I throw a look at my brother, who scowls back at me over his mug. He’s happy, the kind of happy that only comes from an engineering breakthrough. Sure.” His grin isn’t proportional to my broken heater. Can you give me a ride back from Hal’s tomorrow?” “The heater in my car is broken, I think. He hangs it up on a hook by the door, a big smile on his face. A dad who loves you enough to help you out of your coat. These are the things that matter, in the end. “I can get it, Dad.” I don’t stop him from taking the bag. He hurries across the room, presses a kiss to my cheek. My dad appears at the door to his workshop, patting at his hair like he just woke up and discovered the rest of us are here. “Haley, sweetheart, you’re home.” The warm delight in my father’s voice crashes through Cash’s bad mood. “The house is still standing,” Cash says darkly. Sometimes, those things are whimsical color-changing wind chimes. When you have an inventor for a father, things happen. He’s wearing a cable-knit sweater and glower, which is…not like him. My brother, Cash-all the Constantine good looks, none of the Constantine money-comes out of the kitchen with a big, steaming mug in his hands. After the frigid outdoors the air feels hot on my face.

Nothing, nothing, feels better than pulling open the door and stepping into warmth and light. If we were, we might also have skipped town to avoid the soul-crushing dark and cold. Some Constantines would just hire an assistant to solve this problem. One that can balance the weight of my laptop and books. I need a different bag for next semester. The light swings over the patches of chipped siding and the dent in the garage from when my dad backed into the door a few years ago.īitter wind cuts through my coat on the run from my car to the front door, shoulder bag banging against my hip. My headlights land on the front porch with its spinning wind chime that changes colors based on wind direction. The Camry huffs dutifully down the hill to our house, tucked as it is toward the back of Bishop’s Landing. And I won’t have to drive to campus tomorrow getting tiny shards of frozen snow in my eyes. I’m one semester away from graduating with a degree in literature. The saving grace of this situation is that I’m almost home from class. I’m not a car person, but I’m pretty sure that’s not supposed to happen. The heater in my Toyota Camry blows snowflakes into the air. Bonus Content for Beast of Bishop’s Landing

Secret beast amelia wilde