I remembered the long gravel roads leading into the bayou. Bald cypress curling toward each other, branches adorned with Spanish moss reaching down as if they were trying to hide the road. To bar the way.
It looked out of place surrounded by colorful houses and soft, sandy shores. A dark shadow hovering at the edge of town.
During my time in Port O’Henry, I never drove down those roads. I didn’t belong there. I wasn’t supposed to.
Gravel crunched under the tires of the truck, and I jumped. Fresh pain radiated down my neck when I whipped around, realizing we were already here.
Goosebumps raced up my arms. My heart pounded faster. The final rays of sunlight slipped between tree branches before disappearing, leaving us alone in the dark cab.
A house appeared in the distance. Stilted, weathered, with a single light shining ominously over the second story porch.
The truck lurched to a stop.
I had a sinking feeling that things were about to get worse.
Chapter 19
Centuries of Secrets
Tara
Mysneakerssquelchedovereach step on the porch. Behind me, I was aware of Isaac’s every movement. The way his gait changed as he nursed the wounds on his side. Every subtle line of discomfort on his face.
He’s bleeding because of me.
Despite everything else, that thought kept circling back to the forefront.
I wanted to be terrified of Issac. I wanted to be angry with him.
Instead, I was oddly calm.
I didn’t know what was going on between us, or what Isaac wanted from me, if anything.
But he was bleeding because of me—because he threw himself between me and the men Jay—Jacques—sent after me.
Jay is his family.
Jay never spoke about his family. I only knew that his parents were dead, and he had no one else. No brothers or sisters. Certainly not cousins.
If Jay and Isaac were blood, it didn’t mean anything to Jay.
Light spilled out over the porch just as my foot hit the landing. A shadow filled the doorway, his features dark and unrecognizable but for his glowing golden eyes.
I shrank back, bumping into Isaac and nearly sending us both down the stairs.
A gentle arm caught me, righting me on my feet. Isaac stepped between me and the man in the doorway, murmuring reassurance.
The shadow shifted, a deep voice rumbling words I didn’t hear. A woman’s voice answered, and suddenly I was whisked inside.
“Eli, get some towels!” This time the eyes staring up at me were a dark shade of blue, framed by tanned and freckled skin.
I blinked at the skinny woman holding both my wrists, helpless as she led me further into the house.
“It’s really not funny,” she chuckled softly, “but it’s kind of funny.”
There were exactly zero things to laugh at right now. “What’s funny?”
“You look exactly like I did when I walked through that door. Seems like half-drowning is the standard initiation into the Barbeaux family.”