Across the Vanishing Sky (Starlight Grove, #1)(29)

Mav snickered. “You always slept like the dead.” He carefully left out the fact that I slept like the dead until a nightmare grabbed hold. “Remember when I drew all over your face?” he asked with a shit-stirring grin.

My eyes narrowed on him. “With freaking Sharpies? Yes. Yes, I do. I had to go to school with foot licker written on my forehead for a week.”

Mav simply shrugged. “Shouldn’t have stolen my Oreos. Payback had to be made.”

Skylar stretched on her tiptoes, trying to see into the pots, revealing a T-shirt that read Feral like my uncle. “I think I’m ready for two chilis this time.”

Wylder hoisted her into his arms so she could get a better look. “You sure about that, Little Princess?”

She nodded with confidence. “Sometimes, you gotta grab ’em by the balls.”

The entire kitchen went silent and then erupted into laughter—everyone but Kol.

“Who the hell taught my daughter that one?” he demanded.

“Bad word, Daddy. And Uncle Mav said sometimes you gotta grab life by the balls. Balls isn’t a bad word. We play with them all the time at school.”

Kol’s face got redder and redder the longer Skylar spoke. “You aren’t playing with any balls.”

Mav started coughing, and Wylder smacked him on the back a few times. “You really know how to influence the youth, Mav.”

Mav winced as he looked at Kol. “Sorry?”

“Not yet, but you’re gonna be,” Kol growled.

“Now, boys,” Waylon warned.

The back screen door slammed against the frame, and we all looked up. Orion filled the doorway, his gaze sweeping the space, taking in every detail as if searching for enemy combatants before finally settling on me.

I couldn’t stop staring at him. He’d gotten bulkier since I saw him last. We were all pretty close in height, but Orion had gained an inch or so on everyone right around the time everything had happened, and he hadn’t lost it. Only now, he carried more muscle on that six-foot-five frame.

But it was more than that. The shadows under his eyes were more pronounced, and his eyes themselves were shot through with red streaks, telling me his sleep had gotten even worse.

Fuck.

Annoyance flitted through me that none of our brothers had shared just how bad things had gotten. But I also understood why: Orion wouldn’t let us help. He wasn’t open to assistance in any way.

“Hey, man. It’s damn good to see you.”

His throat worked as he swallowed, the scruff along his jaw shifting with the movement. For a moment, I thought he’d speak. But that was a false hope.

Instead, Orion’s hands lifted, moving in the sign language he resorted to when he didn’t have the option of texting or writing on a pad. “You, too.”

We’d all slowly learned it over the years as we gave up hope of Orion using his voice. At least this way, we could meet him where he was, in the ways that worked for him.

His hazel eyes, a shade darker than the rest of ours, scanned the room again. He stopped for a moment on each face, analyzing as if he thought any one of us could turn on him the same way our father had.

“How’s work?” I asked, testing the waters, hoping for a little more.

Orion’s gaze narrowed on me, hands lifting one more time. “Fine.”

“Geez,” Mav muttered. “Stop monopolizing the conversation, Orion. It’s a little much.”

It was Mav’s way of helping, getting the focus off our middle brother—the one who’d saved his life. The one who hadn’t spoken since the day he killed our father.





12





BRAEDYN





“Why do those cookies look like boy boobies?” Owen asked, coming up beside me at the kitchen counter and studying the cutouts that looked like male torsos.

My lips twitched. My boy and I had a unique relationship—likely a touch more honest than some parents would be with an eight-year-old. But we’d sort of grown up together. I’d had to learn on the job with limited people to ask for advice.

My parents had kicked me out the moment I told them I was pregnant. They didn’t want a damn thing to do with a daughter who was having a baby outside of marriage. And Vincent had all but crushed my world when I told him. Nova was the only person on the planet who stuck by me.

The familiar ache took root in my chest, and I laid a hand over my ribs and the phoenix tattoo there. The one that was all about hope for me and her. That we would make it out of the ashes.

“Mom?” Owen pressed, his tiny brow furrowing.

“Sorry,” I said, calling on the smile I needed. “I’m in an icing haze.”

I set the piping bag down and bent to tickle Owen’s sides. He squealed and danced away, bringing Yeti to investigate.

“You want to help?” I asked him.

“Only if I get to eat the leftover icing,” Owen hedged.

My kid was smart, and he wasn’t above a good haggle.

I put my hands on my hips. “One spoonful.”

“Two.”

I sighed. “You drive a hard bargain.”

He grinned wide.

“Hands,” I instructed, sending Owen to the sink to wash up.

“You never said what’s up with the boobies.”