It was dark when Grayson finally pulled up to his parents’ home. He could have driven there blindfolded, so there hadn’t been any need for directions or a GPS. The phone Dade had given him last week was a throwaway, and there was no way in hell he was going to use the GPS coordinates, just in case someone broke into it.

His regular phone had been turned off since they left the clinic. No one could trace it either.

By the time he’d turned off the engine, both his parents were on the porch, heading his direction. They would have heard the car pulling up the driveway. There had been no way to let them know he was coming, and he hadn’t seen them in over ten years as far as they were concerned.

As he stepped from the car, his mother audibly gasped from several yards away, her hand going to her heart.

A smile split his father’s face as he jogged the last few feet to close the distance. He had Grayson in an embrace in moments. It felt good. It felt like home. It was also very weird.

When Charles Maston held his son at arm’s length, a tear escaped his eye. “My God. You have not changed.”

Charles had. He was in his early seventies now. He had aged, undoubtedly partially due to the loss of a child.

Grayson swallowed his emotions as he glanced to the other side of the car. Bianca was climbing out of her side, and Grayson’s mother, Jane, was still frozen, staring at Grayson. He broke free of his father to head her direction.

Her eyes were wide as he pulled her in for an embrace. Tears streamed down her face, but she made no sound until he hugged her tight, and then she gasped loudly. “I can’t believe it.”

He held her for a long time, his father’s hand landing on his back when he joined them. “I know you called, but it’s not the same as seeing you in the flesh. Truly a miracle.”

Grayson smiled at them as he released his mother and turned around to find Bianca waiting by the car several feet behind him. Her lips were pursed. She was barely containing her emotions either. He reached out a hand for her to come to his side.

“This is Bianca. She’s another member of my team. Long story, but we got paired up together, and we need your help.”

Charles frowned. “Anything. You know that.”

“Come inside,” his mother finally managed. “I’ll make coffee.” Her voice was soft. She was far more frail than he remembered. It was hard to see his parents ten years older and know he missed so much.

While they made their way into the house, his mother kept her arm around his waist and her hand flat on his chest. He couldn’t blame her. It felt good to hold her too.

As soon as they climbed the steps to the front porch, Grayson turned around to glance at the Corolla. “We need to hide the car. Do you have space in the barn?”

“Of course,” he father responded.

His mother sighed as he released her to follow his father back to the car. He slid his hand down Bianca’s arm lightly on the way by. “I’ll grab our things and meet you inside.”

She nodded.

He held her gaze for a moment, ensuring she was okay, trying to gauge her emotions. She seemed nervous, but she slowly smiled. “I’m fine.”

“Two minutes.” Grayson knew his mother was one of the kindest people on earth, and she would ensure Bianca had a beverage and felt welcome as if she were family in less than thirty seconds. But Bianca didn’t know that.

She patted his chest. “I’m fine,” she repeated.

He followed his dad back to the car and then drove it into the barn. After he and his father grabbed their meager possessions from the trunk, they shut the barn door and headed back to the house.

Charles was serious when he spoke. “I have about a million questions, but I don’t want you to have to answer them twice.” He glanced at Grayson over and over. “I can’t believe you’re here. And my God, you didn’t age a day.”

“That’s the weirdest part.”

Five minutes later, the four of them were settled in the living room. Bianca had taken a spot on the worn brown leather loveseat that had been in that same location ten years ago. She had a glass of iced tea in her hand which made Grayson smile as he lowered next to her.

“You want coffee, hon?” his mother asked.

“No. Tea is fine. Don’t go to any trouble, Mom.”

She laughed as she handed him the cold drink in the familiar glass he’d used all of his childhood. “My son comes back from the dead after ten years, and he doesn’t want to be a bother.” She winked at Bianca.

An intense nostalgia he hadn’t expected washed over him.

Home.

He hadn’t expected to be so affected.

“Tell us what’s going on,” his father encouraged as his mother sat next to him. She leaned her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her body. She’d lost weight. He hoped she wasn’t sick.

His father’s hair was grayer and thinner. His mother’s hair was blond, but knowing her, she probably still dyed it.

“To be honest, we don’t know, but the bottom line is that there are people who aren’t pleased with our reanimation. They’re tracking us.”

His mother gasped, her hand going to her heart again. “Are you serious? That’s horrible. After everything you’ve been through.”

“Who are these people?” his father asked.

“We have no idea, but we suspect an inside job of some sort. Someone related to the project in some way.”

“Has anyone been hurt?”

“Not yet, but not for lack of trying. The first woman reanimated was kidnapped. The second two people were a married couple—our bosses. They went into hiding, but someone found them and stalked them. It just won’t end.” He didn’t bother to add to the rundown. His parents got the idea.

“Does anyone know you’re here?” his father asked, brow furrowed.

Grayson shook his head. “We sincerely hope not. Our intel indicates no one is watching us right now. But you need to know there is a risk. I wouldn’t have come here if we’d had another option. We are nearly out of money. We need a place to lie low. If you could lend us some more cash, we’ll just stay a few days and then move to another location.”

Jane waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Nonsense. This is your home. We haven’t seen you in ten years. You’re not going off to hide somewhere. You’ll stay here as long as you need.”

Grayson winced.

So did Bianca. “We don’t want to put you in danger,” she stated.

Jane shook her head. “Don’t you worry about it.” She shifted her attention to Grayson. “You’re my son. I thought you were dead. You’ve hidden your car. You’re staying here. End of story.”

“Your mother’s right,” his father said.

Grayson should have realized his parents would be adamant about this. “We’ve been in a safe house for a week. No one tracked us there. We took a bus to a small town and bought that car with cash this morning. Nevertheless, I’m concerned someone could show up here in the hopes we might have sought refuge with you.”

After what happened to Graham earlier in the day at the bunker, Grayson was more concerned than ever, and although he recognized the risk to his family, it might actually be better for him to be on the property to protect them if someone showed up. Did the benefits outweigh the danger?

“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it,” his father insisted.

Jane grabbed her husband’s arm and squeezed. “You’re welcome here as long as you need. You know that. The room you used to use in the basement is still there if you’d like to be downstairs. Or we have plenty of rooms upstairs. Whatever you’d like.” She smiled warmly, her gaze shifting to Bianca. “You look so tired, sweetheart.”

Bianca sat up straighter. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.”

“Oh, don’t apologize. Would you like to go to bed? I can show you to a room. You don’t have to sit politely listening to us yap. Please, make yourself at home.”

Bianca rubbed her hands on her thighs. She did seem uncomfortable, but it was difficult to read her.

Grayson wanted to reach out and pull her to his side, but she had inched slightly away from him when he sat, so he imagined she felt awkward about their weird relationship in front of his parents.

He was not, however, about to relinquish Bianca alone to a guest room. It might embarrass Bianca a bit, but he would do his best to ensure she wasn’t mortified in front of his parents. “We’re kind of in a weird place right now, so we prefer to be together in the same room. It’s hard to explain, but coming back from a ten-year hibernation leaves us confused and disoriented, and the only people who can understand what we’re going through is the rest of the team, so we work through it together.”

His mother nodded. “Oh. I never would have thought of that. There’s so much I don’t know. You know you’re welcome to occupy whatever space you want, anyway you’d like.”

“It’s your home still, son,” his father added.

Grayson glanced around. So little had changed. He felt like he was in a time warp. Then again, little had changed in his entire childhood, so he shouldn’t be surprised.

The same long oval oak kitchen table graced the back wall of the house. The same family photos from his childhood hung on the wall by the front door. The sofa his parents sat on was a match to the loveseat he occupied. There was a new recliner that made him smile. He could picture his dad sleeping on it when he intended to be watching television.

He slid his gaze back to his parents. “I think we’ll use the basement if that’s all right.” He’d moved to the downstairs bedroom as a teenager when his parents finally finished the basement. To him, it was a haven. He hoped Bianca didn’t mind the lack of windows.

“Of course. There are clean sheets and the bathroom has everything you need.” His mother still looked like she might cry. Happy tears.

“You don’t have many belongings,” his father pointed out, nodding at their bags which had been dropped inside the front door.

“That’s for sure,” Grayson agreed. “We’ve lived in scrubs. Heck, we were living in scrubs for months at a time before we were preserved too.” He glanced down at his jeans and the ones Bianca was wearing too. “Luckily, the people we were staying with arranged some clothes for us. It almost feels weird to wear denim,” he joked.

Bianca chuckled. “It’s like they’re heavy or something.” She tugged at the denim at her knees. In addition to jeans, they both now owned a few regular T-shirts. They hadn’t had a need for anything else.

Grayson pushed to standing and reached out a hand to grab Bianca’s. Looked friendly, right? He released her as soon as she was up. “I’ll get Bianca settled and then come back and we can talk for a while. She’s only been reanimated ten days. She’s still extremely fatigued and not completely up to par.”

His mom stood, smoothing her shirt with her hands. “Wow. I wouldn’t have guessed that. You look amazing.”

“Thank you,” Bianca whispered. “So nice to meet you both. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Of course. Sleep as late as you’d like. Don’t worry about a thing except getting stronger.”

Grayson led Bianca to the basement. It was calming to find everything almost exactly as he’d left it. In fact, he was surprised to find the bedroom he’d often used whenever he visited in the same condition as he’d left it. Bianca stood in the doorway as Grayson headed for the closet, his hands shaking.

When he opened it, he stopped breathing. Boxes of things he’d saved from his childhood were still in the closet. His high school letter jacket hung on a hanger. A few items of clothing he’d had long ago were in the same place he’d left them. He dropped to his knees and tugged a box out from the floor, opening it at the same time.

The tape he’d used to seal it was still in place. It crinkled with age as he ripped it. And then he set his butt on his heels and his hands on his thighs and stared at the contents.

He sensed Bianca coming up behind him, and then she set her hand on his shoulder.

“I can’t believe it,” he muttered.

“What a gift,” she responded quietly. “I’d give anything for a box that looked like that.”

He twisted his head to look up at her. “Maybe your mom has one too.” She’s said so little about her family, nothing but that one mention of her mother. A childhood memory. He’d decided on day one not to pressure her. She’d talk about them when and if she was ready.

She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Wouldn’t matter. I’d never know.”

His heart ached for her.

She reached down and pulled out a trophy. “Did you play a sport?”

He laughed. “I could lie and say I was a great soccer player to impress you, but the truth is that although I did play varsity soccer in high school, it was only because that sport wasn’t as popular as football, and my school was rural and small. So, sure. I kicked a ball around. I was no jock.”

She lifted the trophy. “You must have done something right. You have several medals and trophies in that box.”

He chuckled again. “Nerd trophies, honey. Mathletes. The chess team. I might have even won a spelling bee in elementary school.”

She smiled as she leaned down and carefully replaced the trophy in the box. And then she surprised him by planting a kiss on his cheek. “I happen to like nerds.” With that, she turned around, grabbed her bag of toiletries, and headed for the bathroom.

He stared at the empty doorway for several moments, enjoying the feel of her lips on his skin far too much. A combination of nostalgia at discovering a piece of his childhood mixed with sadness at her belief that no such thing would exist in her world. He hated that for her.

He wondered for the millionth time who had hit her. Was it her mom? Or her dad? Had she been trapped in a life of abuse for years or had it all been from a single incident? An incident that would have put her in the hospital according to Damon.

He shoved the box back into the closet and stood just as she returned to the room dressed for bed in her usual T-shirt and shorts. “I feel awkward sleeping together in your parents’ home.”

He shuffled toward the bed and pulled back the blankets, patting the mattress so she would slide under the covers. “We’re grown adults, not teenagers. My parents aren’t that conservative. They don’t mind. Trust me.”

She shivered as she climbed into the bed and pulled the covers up high on her chest. “Still weird. I’m not going to be able to shake the weirdness. They’ll assume we’re sleeping together.”

He chuckled. “We are sleeping together.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

He leaned close and kissed her forehead. “You want me to tell them we’re not?” he teased.

“No,” she blurted. “I don’t want you to mention it at all.”

He laughed again. “Then don’t worry about it.”

“I could have slept in another guest room,” she pointed out.

“Did you want to?”

“No.” She swallowed. “Does that make me awful?”

He frowned and sat on the edge of the bed, one hand resting on the other side of her small body. She was so tucked in, it was almost comical. She was also adorably cute when she got all modest on him. He wondered if she were in a sexual relationship if she would be a prude about it and hide under the covers, keeping the lights off. And then he rationalized there was a distinct possibility she was a virgin.

He found her more and more attractive by the day. She had a big heart. She was the kindest person he knew. She molded to him perfectly when she let him hold her. She smelled amazing, like whatever floral soap she used. Her lips enticed him like a siren. Her hair begged him to stroke it with his fingers. He would love to do that for hours.

She wasn’t his. And she also had only been awake ten days. He was an ass for even thinking such thoughts about her. She needed him as a friend. Not a lover. If they fucked, it would ruin everything.

Except there was no way he would ever fuck her. He’d probably give his right arm to make love to her, but she wasn’t a “fucking” type of woman.

He realized she was staring at him, waiting for an answer, her face flushed. He cleared his throat and shook lude thoughts from his mind. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not awful. Not even close.”

“I feel like I’m using you for emotional support. It’s one-sided and unfair to you. Tell me to stop, and I’ll back off. Tell me to move to another room, and I will.”

His stomach lurched at that thought. “Not a chance. You’re not using me. We fill a mutual need for human contact from someone who understands the other one. And I only want you to move if you want to. I’m not sure I’d sleep well if you weren’t in reaching distance, though.”

“Good,” she whispered. Her hand snaked out and reached for his jaw, cupping his face. “I can’t explain it, but I like being near you. I sleep better when you’re next to me. You calm me in a way I don’t understand. But I don’t have more to give. I’m…broken. So, if I’m leading you on or you’re thinking it will someday be more than this, you’re wrong. I’m sorry.”

His breath caught at her frank words. She gave him another tiny piece of herself each day, whether she realized it or not. He set his hand over hers, pressing her palm into his cheek. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. You also calm me, but it hurts my heart for you to think you’re broken. You’re the least broken person I know.

“You’ve had a rough life. I get that. Things happened to you that should never happen to anyone. I feel sad for that little girl. I can’t imagine how alone you must have felt.” He was reaching a bit, assuming she’d been young. Assuming no one had stood up for her.

Her eyes grew glassy, and she bit into her lower lip to hold back emotion.

“You’re not leading me on for a number of reasons. First of all, I instigated this thing between us, so I’m responsible for the path it takes. Secondly, I know you have a wall around you that is thick and solid. I can practically see it. So, anything I do is with that knowledge front and center. And thirdly, I believe in my heart that you’re wrong. Someone will penetrate that emotional wall.

“Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to be that man someday. Maybe I won’t. But you have too much to give another human being, and you are way too young to shut your heart down for good and live in quiet agony, trapping all that hurt you bury so deep.”

She blinked several times, tears falling slowly.

He wiped them with his thumb. “Maybe you think you’re protecting yourself from hurting. Maybe you think you’re protecting other people by holding your secrets close to the heart. But it’s not healthy. You need to trust someone enough to share. Trust someone enough to let them in.

“If it’s never me, I’ll live, but I hope I can at least help you get to the place where you can let a man in because it makes me very sad to imagine you spending the next sixty years alone because you’re too scared to share a few scars and the tale that goes with them. I know opening up makes you feel vulnerable to further hurt, but I also believe you eventually need to trust someone enough to do so.

“You need your head examined if you think you’re not worth loving.” He leaned his face until only a few centimeters separated them. “You’re worth more than any woman I’ve ever dated, emotional scars and all.” And then he gently kissed her lips, pulling away as quickly as he’d moved in.

She looked stunned, but her lips were parted, and dammit, she’d returned the kiss with precisely the same intensity as it was given. A brief brush of one mouth to another.

A small piece of heaven.

He was falling for her. And he feared his heart would get broken if he didn’t guard it close.