I can't stop freaking out the whole way to Montreal. I'm meeting his family, Bastien's family. Moreover, I'm going to another country for a man. Again.

An unwanted bolt of fear shoots up my spine, sends my thoughts into a tailspin. I start peering around corners, jumping at my own shadow. Suddenly I'm that broken little girl again.

Not the same thing.

Not the same guy.

Breathe.

My heart's in my throat when the plane lands. I grip my shoulder bag tightly to my chest, chew my lip as I'm jostled around among a crowd of people scurrying from one flight to another, eager to be on their way in preparation for the holiday season.

I follow the signs toward baggage claim, only half aware of my surroundings and even less aware of the faces that pass me as my mind swirls through every single thing that could possibly go wrong.

What if they don't like me?

That question has haunted me for the past week, ever since Bas asked me to come with him. It's taken Asher's signature spot in my nightmares. I'm damaged, not what any parent would want for their son.

I'm so caught up in my thoughts that I don't see the person in front of me until we collide. The girl yelps, tilts a head of brown hair up, and glares. "Regarde ça salope!"

"Sorry!" I hold my hands up in apology, sidestep her glower, and start paying more attention to where I'm going.

I find the baggage claim not long after, stand idly among the crowd as we wait for our bags to start rolling around the massive conveyor belt. There's a sign overhead, lit in red, which I'm assuming means something like 'shut up and wait'.

I sigh, lean back into the wall, and pull my phone from my pocket. It's still in airplane mode, so I switch that off and wait for a signal. Almost instantly, text messages and missed call notifications flash over my screen, obscuring my background of Bas in his hockey jersey.

Swiping up, I flip through the texts, replying to Kaila and my dad that I've arrived safely. Then there's Bas's message.

Bas: You land yet?

I bite my lips together, suppress my smile, and type out a simple response.

Me: At baggage claim.

I tuck my phone in my pocket, glance up at the sign to find it still red. There's a vibration and I retrieve my phone, only half surprised to find he's already responded.

Bas: Great.

The sound of gears shifting into motion halt my reply. The sign over my head switches to green and the conveyor belts start moving at a crawl. I lock the device and step up to the edge of the belt, eagerly searching for my duffel bag.

I packed light for this trip, not that I really had much to bring anyways. All I wear are jeans and tank tops covered by hoodies. Well, maybe a bit of make-up too. Just in case I have to impress anyone.

Without warning, a band of warm steel twines around my waist. I almost scream, my entire body going rigid. Then the familiar smell of the forest in winter overwhelms my senses and everything is suddenly right in the world.

"Bonjour ma belle." His voice, low and sweet, sends shivers down my spine. I turn in his arms, punching his shoulder in greeting. He flinches, feigning shock. "Hey!"

"You scared the hell out of me!" I chastise, punch him again.

"I've missed you beating up on me." He teases, flashing that crooked smile. A thrill curls my toes and shoots up my body, filling me with warmth.

Bas leans down and kisses me, his mouth warm and soft on mine. I melt into him, only now realizing how empty I've felt this past week. I graze my teeth over his bottom lip, giggle when he emits an X-rated growl. "Not here!" I squeak, twisting my face so that his lips find only my cheek.

His laughter fans my face and I shiver. "Fine, but definitely later." A flush starts in my cheeks and spreads down my neck under his heated stare. Then he shifts away, clears his throat, and pulls my bag from the conveyor belt.

I blink, almost laugh at the perfect timing.

Bas tosses my duffel over his shoulder, extends his hand toward me, and jerks his head at the doors. "I've held them off as best I could, but they insisted on coming with me to get you."

Anxiety shoots through me as Bastien twines our fingers. "Huh?" It's the best response I manage as we step through the doors onto a busy sidewalk where family members hug and individuals with suitcases say goodbye before heading to catch flights. It's a tangle of bittersweet goodbyes and joyous reunions.

There's a massive seven-passenger SUV idling on the curb. When Bas and I approach, the front doors open and two women emerge. One has chestnut hair, the other a soft shade of purple. I recognize her from the FaceTime call – his sister Claude.

Some internal reaction halts my step. But Bas has my fingers locked with his, recognizes my hesitation, and turns to me with a soft look in his eyes, a smile on his lips.

He slips his arm around my waist, thumb trailing under the rim of my jacket to brush the sensitive skin on my back, tracing the jagged lines of a long-healed scar with infinite tenderness. The action calms me, draws my attention to his proximity as he presses a chaste kiss to my temple.

"Hi!" The curvy girl with the same hazel eyes as Bas greets. "I'm Mia!" Then I'm crushed into her for a hug.

I'm too surprised to do much more than return it awkwardly. "Uh, hi."

"Mia, let her breathe." Claude laughs, flashing snakebite piercings.

"Hush," Mia bites back.

I glance between them, then at Bas. His lips quirk where he watches the exchange. When he catches me looking, he arches his brow. The pierced one. My insides go to jelly.

"Reece," Bas motions at the tall, slender sister with his head. "You remember Claude." He half-questions, half-states. I nod, reach out to shake her hand. Claude stares at me like I produced an iguana and snorts.

I'm totally unprepared for the second hug. And holy crap this family is strong. "I feel like I already know you!" She exclaims into my ear.

I stumble over my words, wondering if I should return the sentiment or stutter out the typical 'nice to meet you'. To my relief, Bas tugs me into his protective embrace. "Okay, let's go."

Mia rounds to the driver's seat while Claude hangs back, waiting until Bas goes to put my bag in the trunk. Then she drapes her arm across my shoulders.

"Sit with me." She urges, pulling open the door to the backseat.

I can't find the right words to decline so I climb into the SUV, relieved to be immediately engulfed by warm air. Claude slips in beside me and slams the door before Bas has a chance to challenge her.

"Should have known you'd steal my girlfriend" He mutters as he climbs into the passenger seat.

Claude sticks out her tongue impishly. "You've had her all to yourself for months. My turn."

He gives her an arched look. "Claude."

"Sharing is caring." She hugs me tighter and makes a shooing motion. "Scoot."

Bas grumbles something unintelligible and spins back around in his seat.

"So," Claude begins, turning in her seat to face me as Mia merges with the traffic leaving the airport. She and Bas quickly strike up a conversation, one that goes back and forth between English and French, making it hard for me to follow.

Instead, I focus on Claude's warm smile. "So?" I repeat, nervously wringing my hands in my lap.

"Reece," she says my name, trying it on the tip of her tongue as she squints. "Welsh, right? Originally stemming from Ris. Means 'ardor'."

"I guess."

"A lot better than mine. First of all, 'Claude' is a man's name, but Mama wanted to be unique." She rolls her eyes dramatically. "Second of all, do you know what 'Claude' means?" When I shake my head, she continues, "It means 'limping'. How lame is that? No pun intended."

"Hey, Limpy," Bas reaches back and squeezes Claude's knee. "Can we not clue Reece into our crazy two minutes into the drive?"

"Oh shut up." Claude kicks him in the shoulder. "It'll come out eventually."

"Children!" Mia snaps. "I am driving."

Bas grips Claude's ankle and practically wrenches her into the front seat. "She started it!"

"I don't care who started it, I'll finish it!" Mia scolds dramatically, shoving Bas and Claude apart as she stops at a red light. "So help me I will whoop both your asses!"

I choke out laughter, watching the sibling banter. The anxiety I had about his family dissipates. These two are just like him – loud, funny, and spirited. I have no idea what I was so worried about.

Until Claude turns back to me and grins, "Tell me about yourself, I have a feeling we're going to be great friends." She informs me with a wink. "I am Bastien's favorite sister after all."

"You're no such thing, just his biggest pain in the ass." Mia makes an indignant noise, glancing at me in the rearview mirror and smiling.

"Ladies, there's no need to fight over me." Bas chides. Mia, Claude, and I all scoff at him, which prompts the three of us to share a conspiratorial look that he notices warily. "Or gang up on me."

Mia giggles. "You're so easy to mess with Baby Bas."

The animated conversation continues between the siblings. It's like watching a sitcom on TV. Being so readily accepted by two of his sisters is a relief, displaces some of my negative energy. As they converse, I turn to look out the window at the view. Montreal, in all its big city glory. A world away from what I know.

"Right Reecie?"

I start. "What?" I stutter, glancing between Claude and Bas.

Claude reaches over the seats and smacks Bas upside the head. "Told you."

Mia joins in the assault, jabbing him in the ribs. "Nice try Hotshot."

"I thought you were driving!" He protests.

I blink at them all, confused. "What's going on?"

"I was making a case for my irresistibility." He peers innocently at me from under his brown hair. It's grown a bit too long and now dangles into his eyes. "One that you so effortlessly shattered."

"In that case, I'm glad I could help," I respond cheekily. "You need to let a bit of air out of that ego or your head will pop."

Bas's eyes widen and he clutches his chest dramatically. "You wound me, Reece."

"Oh, I love her!" Claude cackles, patting my shoulder. She pulls her phone from her pocket and snuggles closer. I barely have enough time to turn my head away and throw up a hand before she snaps the picture.

"Aw, come on, I need a good one for my Instagram." She pouts playfully, even as her eyes grow sharp. Like she can suddenly see the darkness roiling in my thoughts.

I don't like it one bit.

I deflect. "I...don't look good in pictures."

"Bullshit." She continues that stupid appraising gaze. "You're gorgeous."

I shift under her stare, glance down at my hands and realize with horror that my sweatshirt sleeve was pushed up in all the excitement. Claude follows my gaze, catches sight of the neat lines before I can turn my wrist away. In my haste to hide the marks and shift as far away as I can, my shirt rucks up, giving her an eyeful of my hip and the ghastly reminders of Asher's abuse.

To my relief, she doesn't comment, simply puts her phone away and shrugs. "No big deal."

In a matter of moments, she's transformed from a giggly airhead to a professional inquisitor. Vaguely, I remember Bas telling me one of his sisters is a sex therapist. Looks like I found her.

My heart does this funny flip flop in my chest and a red tint colors my cheeks. "I just like to keep my life private." I rush to explain.

"Right." Claude gives a calculated nod and glances at Bas and Mia, bickering over the radio station. Then she leans in close, lowering her voice so that only I can hear her. "A lot of my work includes victims of domestic violence or sexual assault." As she speaks, her eyes never deviate from me. I feel her gaging my reaction, watching for tells.

"I don't—um—" I wish I could disappear. "I don't know what you mean."

Claude backs off just enough to give me space to breathe. "Maybe we could talk after Christmas. If you want." She glances toward the front seat, at the back of Bastien's head, and then to me. "I promise I won't bite. And..." she trails off, tilts her head at me sympathetically, and smiles. "I think I can help."

Before I can come up with a response, the car pulls into a driveway. Bas and Mia quit their jabbering as she climbs from the car. Claude turns away and follows her sister, but I remain frozen in my seat, feeling very much like a deer caught in headlights.

The moment Bas catches sight of my face, he's out of the car and blocking Claude where she moves toward the house. They converse in hushed voices, Bas's face full of protective ire, Claude speaking in calming tones and using soothing gestures.

Oh hell, what have I gotten myself into?

Finally, Bas steps aside and Claude strides past. Then he rounds the hood and opens my door. "Hey," he brushes a rogue curl of hair from my cheek and I slip out of the car. He pulls me to him, banishing the bitter cold. "Claude told me she offered to talk with you." He whispers into my hair, breath warm and soothing on my cheek.

"I don't need anything like that." I can't keep the defiant edge from my voice, my hands from fisting in his jacket.

Bas pulls back slightly, brows furrowed. His hands come up to cradle my face and a tirade of emotion flutters through his eyes.

"I..." he starts warily, pausing to arrange his thoughts. "What I told you about pain and pleasure and that thin line between the two. It's something she helped me with."

"Helped you?" I repeat, incredulous. Of all the people I think would need help, Bas certainly isn't one of them.

"Yeah." He gives a rueful chuckle. "I thought I was sick, that I was going to end up on an episode of CSI or locked in an asylum. Claude sorted me out. I didn't feel so disgusting."

I had no idea. "Because you're a masochist?"

He shrugs. "She can explain it a hell of a lot better than I can. Maybe if she does then it won't sound so intimidating anymore. I know you accept it, but it's still new to you."

I open my mouth to argue, dead set on not needing another shrink in my life. One was more than enough. There was no way in hell I need someone else going through my sex life and the trauma I've been through all over again. Especially not his sister.

Bas dips his head, his mouth smothering mine in a soft, yet overwhelming kiss that makes my toes curl and silences all of my protests. Then he pulls back and brushes his lips over my cheek gently. "Just one time, please?"

His openness, the pure look of affection, breaks me down into a puddle of willingness. I bite my lips together, flash him a glare so that he knows I'm agreeing to this under duress. "One time. After Christmas."

Bas grins. "Great. Now," he slams the car door and slings an arm over my shoulders. "Brace yourself. I can tame my sisters when they're isolated from the rest of my siblings. My mother is an entirely different story."