Across the Vanishing Sky (Starlight Grove, #1)(51)

Hurt flashed across Maverick’s expression so fast I almost missed it. But he covered it with a grin. “You know, fancy-ass family. Probably just got too cool for me.”

But that wasn’t Aster. Something had happened. I just wasn’t sure what.

Mav didn’t give me a chance to ask a follow-up. He peeled out, heading for the ranch. I scowled after him but got behind the wheel and followed.

I kept an eye on my speedometer, knowing I’d be on the radar after today. Miller would love nothing more than to give me a speeding ticket. It made the trip out to Twisted Oak Ranch seem even longer, but I finally hit the Bigfoot gate and then the tree house. Vehicles for everyone but Orion were already there.

Steeling myself, I shut off my engine and climbed out. As I walked up the front walkway, I went over my argument, every point I had for us to help Brae. Because she deserved it.

I was so caught up in planning my presentation that I nearly missed it. Only the sound of a bell jangling saved me.

Out of the corner of my eye, a flash of black-and-white fur barreled toward me. At the last second, I dodged, jumping up onto the porch. “Jesus, Pepper.”

The goat made a quick one-eighty, running back toward me and headbutting my thigh.

“Ow, hell. That’s gonna leave a mark, Pep.”

“It’s her love language,” Uncle Waylon called from the screen door.

“Her love language is violence? Leaving bruises? Breaking bones?”

He let out a sound of derision, then opened the door and let Lucy the Irish wolfhound out. “When’d you get such a tender sensibility? DC changed you.”

Lucy headed straight for me, rounding Pepper up and off the porch.

“Not wanting to get beat up just trying to get to the door makes me tender?” I clipped.

Waylon shrugged. “You said it, not me.”

I shook my head, giving Lucy a good scratch. “You’ve got my back, my sweet girl.”

She leaned into me for more affection.

As I straightened, it was to find Waylon watching me. Concern swirled in his brown eyes. He might not show it in typical ways, but he was always there for us. When we came to live here, traumatized and scared out of our minds, he’d moved at our speed. And he’d done everything he could to build a sense of safety. It had worked for most of us.

It wasn’t that we didn’t carry scars. We did. But the injuries had healed.

For everyone except Orion.

“Come on in. I got chicken tacos in the slow cooker,” Waylon said, giving me a slap on the back.

“How many salsas and hot sauces?” I asked, knowing that, for him, the tacos were just a facilitator for the “good stuff.”

He opened the screen door and held it for me. “Didn’t have proper time to prepare. Only a dozen.”

I chuckled, heading inside just as the clocks started going off. I passed one on the wall that shot a Bigfoot out like a cuckoo bird. The jerky motion nearly had me stumbling back a step. “Your clocks are violent, just like your damn goat,” I muttered.

Waylon only laughed.

“Took you long enough,” Mav called from the kitchen, where he was dishing up a plate of tacos.

“Some of us prefer not to give the law enforcement in this town another reason to hate us,” I shot back.

Kol glowered at me from his spot at the kitchen table. “You’re the only one flaring that up.”

If it hadn’t already been clear, I now knew I had a battle on my hands. “Sorry. I thought we were trying to help people. My mistake.”

“Hold it,” Waylon said. “Dex, get food. Kol, hold off on the full assault until Orion is here. Don’t want to have to listen to this shit twice.”

Wylder pinched the bridge of his nose in true eldest-brother fatigue. “Me either.”

I snagged a plate, filling it with tortillas, chicken that had been slow-cooking for hours, and some lettuce, beans, and sour cream.

“Sour cream’s for suckers who can’t handle the heat,” Mav jibed as he took a seat.

I just scowled at him as I pulled out a chair, catching sight of Skylar playing in the yard with Tink. The mini-Highland cow wore a feather boa and a tiara while Skylar wore a tutu with ski goggles and had a Nerf gun strapped to her back.

“Not everyone needs a meal to be a gut-rotting competition.”

“Told you DC turned him soft,” Waylon grumbled.

Wylder chuckled. “You know there’s only one way to solve this.”

I groaned, my stomach already regretting what I was about to do. “Hit me.”

“Tier three, two, or one?” Wylder’s hand hovered over the array of hot sauces in the center of the table like he was Vanna White.

Mav let out a hoot. “He’s gonna be feeling this one, ladies and gents.”

“I’d do anything to get you all to shut up,” I shot back.

Wylder’s fingers slowed over the hot sauces on one end of the grouping. “He’s never gone above a level one in tier one. What will he attempt today?”

I met my brother’s gaze. “Give me a level two.”

A grin spread across Wylder’s face. “Might I suggest Hellfire hot sauce, made with reaper peppers and black garlic?”

My stomach churned, but I held out my plate, not losing Wylder’s gaze.