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I warned my roommate-turned-best-friend that getting fucked up last night was a terrible idea; hangovers and road trips mix like oil and water. But did he listen? No.
Did he thunder through the front door, drunk off his ass and toting the latest in a long line of giggling women, in the wee hours of the morning? Of course, he did.
Is he now curled up in the back seat of my truck, a grimace twisting his normally handsome face, a sickly green tint to his golden skin, and his brow glistening with a sheen of sweat? Unfortunately, yes—something the man in my passenger seat, Cass Morgan, a trinity of roommate, friend, and teammate, is taking great, mocking pleasure in.
God, this was a terrible idea. I knew it would be the second the eldest of my younger sisters suggested it. But I was blindsided by the shock of Lux, a woman who prefers to be entirely self-sufficient, actually asking for help by subtly implying having a few extra hands around the ranch for the summer would be useful. In my state of surprise, I agreed before I could consider the repercussions of exposing my beloved sisters to my friends.
My equally beloved but lacking in morals and common sense friends.
Twisting in his seat, Cass regards our friend with false pity. “Christ, Nick. What did that girl do to you?”
Brandishing a middle finger, Nick grunts, “Shut the fuck up.”
“Who was it this time?”
Despite the dread bubbling in my gut, I can’t help but join in. After all, I did have the unfortunate honor of bumping into our half-naked houseguest on the stairs this morning. “The one with the claws.” Bright red and fit to gouge an eye out. “Jessie?”
“I thought it was Janice?” Pretending to think, Cass purses his lips, scratching his chin and sliding Nick a look rife with barely hidden amusement. “Care to enlighten us, Nicolas?”
A beat of silence is his only response yet it speaks volumes.
“You don’t remember,” Cass snickers, “do you?”
Nick’s groan echoes around the truck’s interior, and I bet beneath the forearm shielding his face from the sunlight pouring in the window, there’s a harsh glare lurking. “Fuck off.”
A shocked laugh rips from my throat, my head moving in a disapproving shake. God, that’s bad, even for him. No one who knows Nick would accuse him of being soft and sentimental and sensitive to the feelings of the many, many women he coaxes into his bed. It’s not a secret, his blasé attitude towards sex. In-and-out, one-and-down, hit-and-run, all apply to my dear friend. But it’s not like he hides any of that. He doesn’t offer anything different.
But, still. Come on. Hername?
It’s not funny, it really isn’t.
Except,shit, yes it is.
My humor is short-lived, though. It diminishes as unkempt road turns into a familiar dusty dirt trail, as the place that’s been my home for almost a decade appears on the horizon, as we creep closer to the most important people in my life. A nervous feeling of impending doom settles in my gut. Accompanying it; a familiar sense of calm and, most prominently of all, a fuck ton of anger.
The barn catches my eye first. It’s impossible to miss, a huge wooden structure in desperate need of a coat of paint that makes me frown and kiss my teeth in annoyance because it’s bigger than it was last time I was here. Horses roam free in the nearby paddock, and my suspicions are confirmed when I spot new equine faces grazing.
They fucking renovated again.
If they did up the barn, the guesthouses certainly got some attention too; they’re the real money-makers, the mini fucking chalets rich people and fancy companies pay extortionate amounts of money to stay in and get ‘the real country experience.’
Of course, my grandparents expanded their cash grab. Why wouldn’t they, considering how much money they make from it while doing absolutely nothing other than supplying the funds? The actual work is always shucked onto someone who already has enough to deal with.
Someone who’s lingering on the front porch of our home, three figures hovering beside her, their hands a blur as they frantically wave.
“Quick recap.” Cass and Nick groan in unison as my truck rolls to a stop. Adopting a stern expression, I shift to face both of them, jutting my head towards the girls already tearing toward us. “These are my sisters. We do not fuck with my sisters. If you do, you sleep in the barn with the hay and the horse manure.“
“Sir, yes, sir.” It’s a playful yet sincere grumble; they know how much my sisters mean to me, and they know—because I told them, intricately and repeatedly—the last thing I want is the girls feeling uncomfortable in their own home.
They've had enough of that to last a lifetime.
Shouldering open the driver’s side door, one foot barely hits the grassy ground before a thundering of squealed greetings fills the air. Four girls race toward me, hair every shade of brown and blonde whipping in the wind carrying excited chants of my name.
The youngest of the quartet reaches me first, knocking the air out of my lungs as we collide. “Oscar!” Eliza screeches, further inhibiting my breathing capabilities by snaking her arms around my neck. Chestnut hair tickles my neck, suspiciously straight compared to the wild, wavy mess I’m accustomed to. Pulling away, my chest pangs at the lack of baby fat rounding her cheeks, but my lamenting is soon chased away by a grimace as I note the black rimming her dark eyes.
God, are fourteen-year-olds supposed to wear that much eyeliner?
Wisely, I don’t voice that concern aloud; the three sisters that came before her taught me to keep my mouth shut when it comes to things like that.
