Chapter Ten
Melinda
The nerve of that man.
That was my first thought when I woke up the next morning. The anger rose with the sun—as did the image of Lucien Dumas. He’d been rude to Bryon, inserted himself where he wasn’t wanted, and then had the audacity to call me dangerous after a bit of static electricity.
What kind of man does that?
No, Mel. Not a man. A vampire.
The word bounced in my head, repeating over and over.
Vampire.
Vampire.
Vampire.
I raised my hand, naming each of the vampires I knew now. Each one felt unreal. It was four more than I ever thought I would know.
The thought of meeting a vampire had been a fantasy I entertained in high school, and although it wasn’t that long ago, I thought that they were fictional. They weren’t.
And there was a family of four living in their dead grandmother’s house—the same dead body I had discovered days ago. What the hell had my life become in these past few days? Everything I thought I knew was unraveling into lies with each passing hour.
My eyes drifted across my bedroom, skipping the pile of laundry in the far-left corner where a chair sat buried underneath it. In time one discarded jacket had turned into a pile that gave me mini heart attacks in the night.
And it nearly missed the dresser that lined the wall, where I stacked my old favorites. A small stack—smaller than it should’ve been.
I crawled across my bed and stepped down, leaning in to read the titles. The missing ones turned out to be the entire set of vampire romance.
I blinked.
When did my dad start reading vampire romance?
I pushed the thought away, along with the disturbing image of him reading teen romance.I held back the gag that wanted to happen, hoping to not start my morning off that way.
Waking up and thinking of Lucien instantly was already bad enough.
I grabbed an outfit to run in and headed to the bathroom to start my day.
I never felt right if I didn’t wash my face as soon as I woke up.
IBy the end of the day, my skin would feel greasy again, but I avoided washing twice and causing more damage than it was worth.
Still, there was something refreshing about rinsing away sleep and starting the day fresh.
I tied my hair up, swishing mouthwash as I did, when the familiar creak of the hallway floorboards told me my dad had begun his day too.
Glancing down at my phone to see the time, I paused mid-swish.
The burn hit a second later, snapping me back as I realized how late it was.
I usually didn’t sleep in. I spit the mouthwash out and opened the bathroom door to find my father passing by.
“Good, you're awake and ready for the day. Since you decided to have a cozy morning and sleep in, I’ve been working. How does the saying go? Early bird gets the worm…and Mel helps her dad move hay bales?”
A groan erupted from my throat as I stared longingly towards the stairs that would take me down to coffee and breakfast. My stomach ached at the prospect of missing the most important meal.
“But breakfast.”
“But nothing. You slept late, so you will have to make up for your delay in the day with hard work. I’ll meet you in the barn. Oh, and the chicks are expected to hatch soon, so we might even get a show.”
I swallowed another groan, mostly because I had a feeling it would somehow earn me more chores. My morning run was already no longer an option.
The urge to call him out on his sudden interest in vampire romance books flickered, but I shoved it down just as quickly as I had the groan.
That would only make things worse. I was stuck doing chores.
I headed downstairs and passed by the fridge that called out to my hunger, receiving a growl of yearning in response.
I jogged out the back door, hearing the screen slam against the metal frame before snapping shut.
The wind tossed my hair about and brought the scent of livestock and dirt.
I would’ve normally enjoyed the moment, but the lack of food paired with the smell was not a combination my stomach was agreeing with.
My feet carried me to the barn, but the heat of someone’s stare slowed my steps until I came to a halt.
Looking toward its direction, I saw leaves move in a frenzy against the wind.
My pulse ticked up, but I pushed forward anyway with a threatening shout.
Whether it was an animal or a creeper, I would scare away something for sure.
“Hey!”
The branches stilled as I reached them. Nothing. No animal. No person. Nothing was there except for the lingering scent that was familiar, but not enough for me to place a source. Frowning, I sniffed the air again, but the wind had taken it away before I could catch it a second time.
“Maybe we should start putting out bear traps,” I voiced purposely aloud. I had a sneaking suspicion that a vampire was the blame and I didn’t see Ambrose taking the time to stalk me. Unless I had suddenly become a fascinating specimen.
It had to be Lucien.
No, I couldn’t think about him now.
Anything was better than thinking about the infuriating, handsome blond who had already managed to get under my skin in all the wrong ways. My thoughts shifted back to Ambrose instead, which naturally brought the image of Erie to mind.
I smiled softly as I remembered our meeting, turning around to head back to the barn. She was so old—and yet so young at the same time. It was hard to see her as anything but a child, given her outward appearance.
Questions about how their aging worked overwhelmed me as I stepped into the barn and fell into my chores on autopilot. I didn’t even notice when my dad arrived, or the praise he threw my way.
At what age did vampires mature? Was Isadora my age in vampire years or was she still a child? Maybe that would explain why her brother acted like such a jerk.
“So, are we going to pretend Bryon wasn’t here the other night?”
My head snapped in my dad’s direction, my jaw working soundlessly as I searched for something—anything—to say.
I couldn’t even prepare a response as the question came so suddenly.
If his plan was to shock me into a conversation, it both worked and failed.
He raised a brow, unimpressed by my silence, and pressed on.
“That boy has more balls than I gave him credit for,” he said, his voice even, almost amused. But just like with any father finding out this kind of situation happened under his roof, that amusement did not reach his eyes. “Sneaking around with my daughter under my own roof.”
I swallowed, my heartbeat stuttering at the shift in his tone. There was an edge to it now that matched the darkness in his eyes. My father wasn’t a cruel man, but he was a proud one. Respect meant everything to him.
And Bryon, whether he realized it or not, had crossed that line.
A quiet settled over the barn, thick as the dust floating in the rays of light. It didn’t take much to understand what this meant. If Bryon wanted to be anywhere near as close to me as we had been, he’d have to work for it.
Unfortunately, I had no intention of hitting repeat on that night. It wasn’t terrible, but I didn’t feel the sort of connection that would make me stay in this town. Not even a passing thought of his last name following my first had crossed my mind.
“It won’t happen again,” I promised quickly, hoping to quell any rising anger that might spin into a lecture that I desperately did not want to hear.
My dad sucked in a harsh breath, shaking his head sympathetically. “Poor kid. He must have been waiting so long he didn’t have the time to build experience. If he asks, tell him it was me that forbade it. Thinking of him hearing the truth makes me feel kind of bad for the mutt–I mean, boy.”
I hit his arm at the snide remark. Then, a soft cracking sound caught my attention.
I turned toward the incubators lined along the wall, noticing the subtle tremble as life stirred within them.
I shot to my feet and hurried over, crouching just as a thin fracture split across one of the eggs.
Another followed, then another, each tiny sound echoing louder in the quiet barn.
“Well, I’ll be,” my dad murmured, stepping up behind me. “They’re here.”
I focused my attention on one that was more active.
A beak poked through first—small, determined.
The shell gave way in uneven pieces, falling apart as the chick fought its way into the world.
Damp feathers clung to its body, its movements clumsy, but insistent.
One by one, the others followed, each breaking free in their own time.
I watched as one struggled still, only managing to poke its beak through. I wanted to help, my body stepping forward to assist, but my dad stretched an arm out to stop me.
“They always make it look harder than it is,” he assured me, crossing his arms to watch with me. “Whole lot of fight for something that doesn’t even know what it's fighting for yet.”
“It’s kind of beautiful,” I admitted quietly. “Like they already know their purpose.”
He didn't answer right away. When I glanced back at him, his expression had softened into something distant, something quieter than I’d ever seen it.
“You were like that,” he said finally.
I blinked. “Me?”
He nodded, eyes moving from me, back to the unsteady chicks.
“Day you were born, you grabbed onto my finger like your life depended on it. Tightest grip I’d ever felt from a baby.
” A small smile tugged at his lips. “Didn’t make a sound.
Just held on like you were already telling me you could handle the world. I knew you’d make me a proud father.”
I let out a small breath, sounding more like an awkward laugh as I looked back at the chicks while they stumbled over each other.
Lost and thrown into the world without guidance.
I didn’t feel any different from these chicks, especially considering the discovery of the existence of vampires and a secret world to top it off.
“I haven’t exactly done much with my life, though.”
“That so?” he asked.
I shrugged, not taking my eyes from the incubators. If I looked at him in this heart to heart moment, I would undoubtedly cry and I wasn’t ready to experience that on such a nice day.
“I’m still here. Same town. Same barn. Doesn’t really sound like something to be proud of.” As the words left my mouth, I realized how they would sound to him. Cringing, I apologized. “Sorry, no offense.”
“You’re alive,” he said simply. “You’re healthy. You’re standing right here talking to me.” His voice softened. “That’s enough for me to be proud of.”
I finally glanced over at him, searching for something more complicated in his expression, but there wasn’t anything hidden there.
We shared a small smile before settling onto a pair of stacked hay bales near the incubators to watch the last of the chicks break free from their shells.
The barn began to slowly fill with soft, uneven chirps.
Chickens nearby had wandered in, curious to the sound.
Some took to pecking the hay while a few aggressive ones decided my fingers and legs were better.
The next to attack would be dinner, I thought while flicking another beak that went after my leg. It flared its wings and I thought it was attempting flight, but it stopped its threat just as quickly as it started it.
I watched it leave, taking a moment to muster enough courage to ask one of the more sensitive topics in this house. Now that he had opened the door to the conversation, I could step through without fear of opening it myself.
“What was mom like?” I asked, watching the dust drift through the slats of the barn as sunlight slipped through the cracks. I felt him stir beside me, but I didn’t dare look. I pushed the topic, “I don’t remember her, but you always say I’m just like her.”
He chuckled and I heard his hands busying themselves with a bale of hay, pulling it apart for the barn floor. “Your mom was strong willed. Stubborn too. She was crazier than a raccoon trapped in a trash can.”
I laughed at his analogy, imagining it. “Are you trying to say I’m crazy, dad?”
“Oh, you’re the craziest in Burrow Hills,” he said, tossing some hay at me. It drew both my attention and a laugh. He took in the moment, grinning like an idiot. “But you’re my daughter so I tell everyone it’s just part of your charm.”
“What did I get from you?”
He paused, tilting his head back to study the barn roof, thinking about his answer. The piece of hay was forgotten, falling through his fingers. “I’d say the Hardgrave blood didn’t do you any favors. All that sass and sarcasm would definitely be from my side.”
“But it’s part of my charm, right?” I nudged his arm with my shoulder.
He nodded, patting my head before pushing himself upright. His knees cracked with the effort, and the low groan that followed only added to the years worked.
“I think it’s time to head back.”
“I thought you needed help on the farm? So far, all we’ve done is moved some hay bales. What about watering the vegetables? Feeding the animals?”
He waved off my question, dismissing it without attempting an explanation.
He grabbed a red gas tank on his way out of the barn.
I bounded after him, my ponytail slapping my back with each swing.
He stopped and turned, arms crossing as he stared me down.
Then he frowned, brows knitting in confusion. “Do you want more work, Melinda Marie?”
“No, sir. Roger that,” I answered quickly, before he could change his mind. I headed off to change and make my way to Saddleback. A drink after all that hauling sounded like a reward.
Thankfully, Lucien didn’t make an appearance, and neither did Bryon. For once, I was left alone—no drama, no awkward encounters.
By the end of the night, I was fifty dollars richer, and my drinks had been paid for by the losing parties of my pool matches. Honestly, this town should know by now, but everyone thought they had the capacity to get better. They didn’t. At least not here.
Growing up in this place had a way of keeping people exactly dumb enough to stay. I at least had the advantage of one parent who hadn’t been from here. It gave me a sense of adventure for what was beyond Burrow Hills. I only hoped I would leave before I became too pathetic to leave.
When I returned to my bed, there on my pillow was the missing book from this morning. I quickly shoved it in its spot before closing my window and shutting the curtains.
Was it Isadora?
Or was this a threat from her brother?