Seriously? Are you still mad about yesterday?
Okay, I'm starting to worry now. Will you please just answer me?
Six texts—six texts and even more calls to my sister have gone unanswered in the last twenty-four hours. I meant what I said in my message—I'm starting to worry.
Jo has a tendency to be a little dramatic and a lot stubborn, but even she has limits. I can't imagine she'd shut me out before something this big for her. Or, at the very least, not needme for something.
So now I'm standing at the island while Ruthie sits across from me, elbows planted, face six inches from her social studies poster, fully invested. I pretend to be shopping online, but the reality is, I'm scouring the internet for any information I can find on digital media conventions within a thirty-mile radius. There isn't much. Apparently, it's massive to people who fit the niche, but nearly invisible to everyone else.
"Do you remember the third Hollowell sister?" Ruthie asks, peering up at me. "I can only remember Irina and Beth."
"Jo." I lift my head, the name catching slightly in my throat. "Josephine," I clarify. "Irina, Beth, and Josephine."
Her face brightens as she carefully jots the name down next to the image she drew of three very typical witches.
The Hollowell sisters, three women from the town of Mage Hollow where we visited last week, hid in plain sight. There were no pointy hats or black capes like in Ruthie's picture. The women just simply existed in a world that didn't quite know how to walk beside them. The poster is more than the project requires though—Ruthie is just really invested. So, I'm not sure clarifying the accuracy is really worth dulling her interest.
"You liked our little field trip, huh?"
She shrugs, smiling. "I never would've thought to pick witches for my topic on Beliefs, Myths, and Folklore. But it's actually really fun. People thought they were weird because they weren't like everyone else, but they made being different seem cool. I'd take having powers over blending in any day."
I smile, relieved to see her confidence still going strong. I'm happy that she's back to embracing uniqueness rather than feeling pressured into believing there's only one type of normal. "Same. That's why I was always interested too. And Mage Hollow is close enough that it's fun to visit where things really happened. Plus, being weird is kind of my favorite thing to be. Different is cool, remember?"
Her gaze meets mine, and I wink, then stick my tongue out. She laughs, and I look back down at my laptop, that lingering worry creeping back in.
"Your dad should be home any minute," I say, picking up my phone and reading the time. I swipe my messages open to reread the last one from Liam telling me when his flight will land in G.C. Instead, though, my siblings' group chat catches my attention.
"Perfect," Ruthie says as I click open the thread. "I just have to finish this last part, then I can show him the finished poster when he gets here."
I smile at her, peering back down at the texts—nothing new for the last day and a half. I type out a message, short and simple, thinking maybe Jo will respond when it's not just for me.
What's everyone up to?
Setting my phone back on the counter, I watch Ruthie outline the names of the three sisters in black. Something about her steady hand, the deep color of the pencil, and the way the letters jump off the page after she finishes tracing each one, mesmerizes me. I float away for a second, back to the reason Jo got mad in the first place, and the same irritation I felt yesterday returns.
So maybe it was wrong of me to snap. I definitely could have chosen a nicer way to express the way I was feeling. But the reality is, everything I said was true. Jo does need to take more responsibility for herself, and even just for my sake, it would be nice if she at least pretended to care about her readings.
No, she never asked me to watch out for her, but as my baby sister, she shouldn't have to. And she shouldn't be so surprised that I do. Helping my siblings has always been second nature to me. It's who I am—the fixer, the one with the answers. The one who stays standing so they always have someone to lean on.
It's never bothered Jo before. Not when I was egging her ex's car or listening to her gripe about the comments section of her latest post. But now that it's her health, she has something to say? Or rather…nothingto say?
My focus trails back up to Ruthie, still giving her artwork all of her attention, completely unaware of the storm building in my mind. And suddenly, another worry creeps in beside the first. One I haven't considered.
What if she isn't as okay with me and Liam as he thinks she will be?
What if we tell her and that one statement cracks the connection we've been building—one day, one lesson, one adventure at a time?
Maybe it's the fact that I never pictured Jo reacting this way—not seriously at least—that allows that fear in. But the idea of losing any of them—Jo, Ruthie… him… makes that knot in my stomach grow even tighter.
A humming brings me back to reality. My eyes dart to my phone, but the screen is still black—no messages or incoming calls. Then, I spot Ruthie looking over her shoulder and realize it's the garage door rumbling to life.
A flush of relief hits me hard and fast, only taking out half of the nerves. Now, something closer to adrenaline replaces the fear in my belly. That kind that you get standing on the edge of a cliff you're choosing to jump off of. Or before you tell the girl you nanny that you're falling for her father.
My phone buzzes twice on the marble as the click of the laundry room door echoes into the kitchen. I look at the messages lit up on my screen—one from Margot and one from Owen.
"Hello," Liam calls out before I can read them.
I press the balls of my feet deeper into the floor, resisting the urge to run to him for that comfort he always seems to provide.
