Across the Vanishing Sky (Starlight Grove, #1)(28)

Opening the screen door, I reached for the doorknob. But I knew I’d get no resistance. It didn’t matter how much Kol or I tried to get Waylon to lock his damn doors—he never did.

I shook my head as I stepped inside. “The front door was open,” I called.

“I meant for it to be,” Waylon grumbled, his voice coming from the kitchen.

But I didn’t hurry toward it. I took my time, savoring the feeling of home. Most would find it cluttered and a little odd, but I took in the walls full of clocks Waylon had created and random bits of art, and felt like I could breathe a little deeper.

The furniture in the living space was mismatched in a way that only made sense in Waylon’s brain—a brightly striped chair paired with a pastel, flowered couch and a couple of antique wooden chairs. And I was pretty sure the bench on the far wall had been a church pew at one point.

I moved through the space, past the tall grandfather clock whose painted base featured a battle between gnomes and fairies. Whimsical, ornate, and so very Waylon. I moved deeper into the house and paused to place my hand on the tree at the center of it. The trunk managed to be both smooth and rough at once, but it was the ultimate reminder of home.

“Took you long enough,” Waylon muttered from where he stood at the stove, stirring something in a pot.

A low moo sounded, and my gaze snapped over to the mini-Highland cow standing by the back doors—but most definitely inside—and the goat next to her.

“Seriously?” I asked Waylon.

“You want me to be safe. That’s my attack cow and my goat of protection.”

The two creatures ambled over to me as if responding to their duties being stated. The cow nudged my hand, and I knew exactly what she wanted. “I missed you, too, Tink. Even though you shouldn’t be in the damn house.”

The goat began nibbling on the edge of my shirt.

“Pepper,” I warned.

She simply headbutted my side.

“Tinky!” Skylar called, running in from another room. The cow was her favorite animal on the ranch, likely because Tink let Skylar play dress-up with her.

“Why are they inside?” Kol moaned. “It’s gotta be some risk for disease or contamination.”

“It’s definitely against the health code,” Wylder muttered, an amused look on his face.

“Who knew you lot were so touchy?” Waylon said, turning away from the stove and revealing that he was wearing an apron that made him look like Bigfoot itself.

Wylder choked on a laugh while I managed to stifle mine. Kol just stared at him in horrified awe.

“I loooooove having Tinky and Pepper over for dinner,” Skylar assured him. “I can make them salads, and they can eat at the table right along with us.”

Kol pinched the bridge of his nose. “I draw the line at eating with livestock.”

Skylar sent her dad a furious glare. “They’re not livestock. They’re my bestest besties.”

“Dude,” I said, my voice low. “Do not insult the Little Princess’s bestest besties.”

“Baaaaaad move,” Wylder agreed.

Skylar crossed her arms over her tiny chest. “That’s right.”

Kol scowled at me and Wylder but let the expression ease as he raised both hands in defeat. “Apologies, bestest besties.”

“That’s better.” Skylar’s stance eased.

Kol lifted her into the air, ruffling her hair. “I’m still not sharing a table with them, animal whisperer.”

Skylar giggled.

“What’s cookin’, fam bam?” Maverick called as he made his way into the kitchen.

Waylon gave one of the pots on the stove a stir. “Three-chili challenge.”

My brothers and I all met each other’s stares, grins starting to form. But Wylder muttered a curse. “I didn’t bring Tums.”

“Tums are for weaklings,” Mav accused.

“Tums are for people who don’t want to be shitting pure fire for the next twenty-four hours,” Wylder shot back.

“Swear jar, Uncky Wy,” Skylar singsonged.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wylder grumbled as he pulled out his wallet and stuffed a dollar bill into the massive mason jar Mav had painted with all sorts of starred-out bad words.

I patted my stomach as I crossed over to the stove. Inhaling, I swore my nostrils even recoiled at the ferocity of the spice. “Jesus. I think I’m out of spicy shape.”

Waylon looked up from his work. “Disappointed in you, boy. What’ve they been feeding you in DC? Rabbit food?”

“Something that’s not going to corrode my insides.”

Waylon guffawed. “I took it easy on this round. And you can stay with the beginner pot if you’re scared.”

Mav snickered. “You’re so going down.”

My brothers and I all had a thing for spicy food, but it had turned into a vicious competition somewhere along the way, each of us trying to one-up the others.

A clock let out a gong, signaling the top of the hour. But it wasn’t alone. Within half a second, dozens of others chimed in with everything from beeps to dings, birdcalls to songs, and bells. There was even a Bigfoot call.

As it ended, I stuck a finger in my ear, trying to get the reverberations to stop. “Someone tell me how we slept through that growing up.”