Darcy sat in her car, once again staring at a door as she willed herself to go through it. Not that this door was anywhere near as terrifying as the last one, but the thought of interacting with people again, with a bunch of strangers who knew more about her family than she did, sounded awful. Her family had always been the only mystery about her. She was an open book, compulsively honest, even when she shouldn't be. She'd never hid the fact that she was a foster kid, bouncing from home to home, had never been one for secret crushes or secret anything really, had never shied away from expressing her opinions or sharing details with friends and semi-strangers alike.

But she never talked about her family. Didn't have anything to talk about. They were the gaping hole in her backstory and they still were, mostly. One afternoon chat over coffee couldn't change that. But the people in that building, they knew her family. Knew her, or the missing, tragic child version anyways. They knew the names and faces of her cousins, probably knew basic things like careers and hobbies. They might have even attended a funeral or memorial service for her and her parents—she hadn't had the courage to ask her grandmother if they'd had one, after enough years had passed. If there was a gravestone somewhere with her name on it.

How was she was supposed to just walk in there and pretend like she wasn't on the verge of vibrating out of her own skin?

She needed alcohol and distance and maybe a void to scream into for a while. She wished she was the kind of person who could dance and enjoy it so she could go lose herself in some anonymous club with loud music and people that were reduced to just bodies and movement for the night. But she'd never learned how to relax enough to do that, to overcome or at least not care about her innate awkwardness, and finding some random bar to get drunk in without Daisy or any of her friends wasn't appealing.

Not that she was ready to talk to them either.

She dropped her forehead onto the steering wheel, hands gripping the molded plastic in frustration. What was she ready for? Because life was moving forward, whether she liked it or not. That was a lesson she'd learned a long time ago—nothing waits for you to be ready. Not time, not people, not even yourself.

Figuring out how she actually felt would be a good place to start, but fuck if she had a clue. Joy and excitement and endless, aching grief were all storming inside of her. Resentment, confusion, and wary hope were in the mix too, and nothing was strong enough to overpower the others, to give her some guidance and the motivation to make her next steps, whatever those should be.

A car pulled into the space next to her Rodeo in the small parking lot for the boarding house and Darcy flushed. Good thing she hadn't been reduced to actually banging her head against the steering wheel. Taking a breath, she raised her head and forced a smile. Well, if she couldn't motivate herself, then worry about how other people saw her would just have to do.

Grabbing her backpack, she opened her door, sliding off the seat until her feet hit the ground. When she looked up, still holding the handle, her breath left her in a silent gasp as the flush in her cheeks deepened.

He was beautiful.

Blue eyes, bright even in the growing dusk. Golden hair that was short and messy but she was sure would be soft underneath her fingertips. His jawline could cut glass and break hearts and his mouth, the bottom lip full and lush, was quirked in a curious smile. Darcy was pretty sure she was as red as her scarf and dropped her gaze, unable to look him in the face any longer.

It didn't help.

His shoulders were broad, arms half bare despite the near freezing weather, with what looked like a galaxy in watercolor curling around his left forearm. She couldn't see the rest of him, hidden behind his car, but she was sure it was equally as delectable. Jerking her eyes away, she closed the car door behind her and took a step forward, determined to act as natural as possible.

Her scarf tightened on her throat, holding her back as she attempted to walk away, and she tugged on it with frantic fingers. What the hell? Had her imaginary invisible stalker become real and gotten violent?

Before she could loosen the strangling fabric, the gorgeous man appeared in front of her, concern and amusement on his face as he reached around her and opened the car door. Suddenly able to breathe, Darcy stared up at him, too overwhelmed by his nearness to process what had happened.

"Your scarf, it was stuck," he offered, stepping back from her, a grin lurking in the corners of his mouth.

The grin enabled her to summon her pride, an edge against the embarrassment threatening to overwhelm all her ability to function. "Thanks for the rescue."

"Hey, are you okay?" It was another voice, right next to her ear. Darcy jerked in surprise, pulse racing. She found a pair of warm brown eyes staring back at her, set in a lovely, heart shaped face framed by soft blonde waves.

What the fuck, Canada. Was it trying to kill her with a combination of beautiful people and bone deep embarrassment? Because if so, it was totally succeeding

"Uh, yeah," Darcy answered, self-consciously touching her throat as her gaze darted between the two strangers. "No lasting harm done to anything but my ego."

The young woman laughed, soft and low, the sparkle in her eyes inviting you to share her good humor. "I totally understand. Far too many people have seen me falling down stairs. Pretty sure I'm cursed."

Darcy smiled, helpless not to in the face of the other girl's warmth and charm. "Maybe we were cursed by the same thing, then."

Something flickered in her eyes, something dark and knowing, but it was gone too fast for Darcy to be sure of herself. The other woman stepped forward, linking her arm through Darcy's with another warm smile. "Well then, we'll just have to stick together, won't we?"

Flushing from the nearness and warmth of her body, Darcy nodded, unable to respond with words.

"I'm Lauren by the way," she said, squeezing Darcy's arm. Darcy managed a grin, including the man who'd saved her in her glance. Her very single, very bisexual self might be overwhelmed by the attention from these very pretty strangers, but at least she wasn't stressing about her family anymore.

"I'm Darcy, nice to meet you both."

"Steve," the man offered, his grin not as wide as it had been before Lauren arrived, but his blue eyes warm as they rested on Darcy's face. "If we head in now, we should be just in time for dinner."

"Bobbi's making goulash tonight, it's amazing," Lauren told her, leaning in close like she was confiding a secret. "And whenever she makes goulash, Natasha breaks out the good vodka."

Steve chuckled. "If by good, you mean capable of knocking anyone but her on their ass after one shot."

Darcy grinned at both of them, steadier than she had been since leaving her grandmother's. "Sounds like a great definition of good to me."

Lauren nodded her agreement and started walking toward the boarding house, pulling Darcy along with her. Steve followed in their wake, and Darcy tried to ignore the voice in the back of her head that couldn't stop asking if they knew who she was, if that was why they were being so nice. Some light flirting and some heavy drinking sounded like the perfect balm to the storm inside of her, and for once she wasn't going to question the motives of those around her.

The inside of the boarding house was warm, full of voices and laughter. The decor wasn't exactly homey, lots of red and black and an apparent fondness for displaying ancient weapons, but—sharp edges aside—it looked comfortable. A place to stay a while, not a modern hotel all done in white and fake flowers and ever present staff to remind you that you were just visiting.

Not that a home was any guarantee of permanence. She'd learned that the hard way, over and over and over again, as family after family decided she didn't fit with them. Would this home be any different?

"Steve!" a voice called out, and Darcy blinked her way back to the present as a man came toward them, his smile wide and bright against his rich brown skin.

"It's about time you got here, man, Bobbi's trying to talk us into charades again."

Darcy didn't understand the man's dark, warning tone, but saw Steve wince, his eyes flicking to the weapons prominently displayed on the walls.

Well, that was interesting. Curiousity about her new landlords was temporarily overriding her nerves. Any game of charades involving battle axes could only be an exciting experience, assuming one survived it.

"So, where's this vodka I heard about?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at Lauren, Steve, and the new man. "Because I needed a shot beforeparty games were on the table."

Lauren and Steve grinned at her and the newcomer laughed, then offered her his hand. "Hi, I'm Sam. Let's be friends. There are not enough people with that kind of common sense around here."

Darcy shook his hand and nodded agreeably. "Sure. Although I have to tell you, this is more new friends than I've made in one day since Freshman orientation. Which also involved vodka shots."

"I am putting that on the list of charades topics, just so you know," Sam told her, his grin contagious.

She laughed, a little more tension seeping out of her shoulders, and followed them deeper into the house. Lauren's arm was still linked through hers, her hand stealing down to lace their fingers together. Darcy fought a flush, already feeling dizzy without the benefit of booze.

Maybe a night of flirting, fun, and the apparent risk of dismemberment was exactly what she needed.

x

Three hours later, and she wasn't so sure the evening had been what she needed. She was sure that Canada was trying to kill her. The Goulash had been as amazing as promised, and the vodka as lethal. But not as lethal as the combination of intense emotional upheaval and a room full of strangers so attractive she could hardly think straight, pun entirely intended.

Lauren hadn't left her side all night, warm smiles and casual brushes of fingers as intoxicating as the vodka. Steve had been nearly as present, bright grin and blue eyes wry with good humor.

Sam was the life of the party, and his girlfriend, Maria, reminded her of Jemma's intensity, all brilliance and biting wit. Bobbi and Natasha were forces of nature, Bobbi loud and Natasha quiet, but both as sharp as the weapons that littered the walls. Darcy didn't think they needed weapons to be dangerous, but could admit that the sight of them with blades in their hands had inspired entirely new kinks. Sharon had some kind of history with Steve and Bobbi, lots of inside jokes and references that would have gone over Darcy's head even if she hadn't been more than little buzzed. But she hadn't neglected Darcy, had a way of looking at a person like she knew everything about them even before they did. Her fiance, Antoine "Call me Tripp" Tripplet, had a quiet humor and easy grin that balanced Sharon's intensity well. They were an amazing group, reminding her achingly of her own found family, now a border crossing and an old/new life away.

She did not want to replace them, could not even if she tried. But maybe she could create a space for herself here as well, a place with family both blood and not.

A way for Darcy Lewis and Darcy Lang to find peace, and happiness.

Lauren laughed and Steve looked at her through lowered lids and Darcy hid her smile in her glass.

Maybe, just maybe, she could even go on that mysterious, magical thing known as a date.