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My arms are only empty for a second—the twins are quick to fill the vacant spot. With equal vigor to our younger sister, Grace and Lottie launch themselves at me. Once more, I have to bite down the urge to comment as I twine a strand of Lottie’s unnaturally blonde hair around my finger, a definite change from the usual sandy brown. Swatting my hand away, she meets my narrowed gaze with one of her own.
Again, I choose to exercise wisdom and keep my mouth shut, averting my gaze and finding a small miracle in Grace looking exactly the same. Hair the same brown, eyes the same hazel, no dramatic makeup to be found.
She always has been the easy sister.
Over their shoulders, a face the spitting image of mine lurks, and the goofy smile I'm sporting grows exponentially—I know I’m not supposed to have favorites but, God, Lux is mine.
“Alexandra,” I drawl, coaxing a scowl out of the eldest Jackson sister. She hates her full name as much as I hate mine—the only difference is she actually managed to make her nickname stick.
“Oscar,” she replies in the same tone, glower relenting when I yank her into a hug. “Nice of you to finally make an appearance.”
It’s a snippy joke, I know it is, yet combined with the circles marring her under eyes, almost as dark as the irises that match mine, a knot of guilt settles in my gut. “You look tired.” An understatement—drained is probably a better word.
The second Lux graduated and decided not to attend college, the responsibility of the ranch fell on her shoulders, whether she wanted it to or not. Further education or family business, that was the ultimatum our grandparents gave all of us. Personally, I suspect she chose wrong but, again, not my place.
Lux shoves me away. “That’s how you greet your favorite sister? Seriously?”
“Yeah, Jackson,” an accented croon cuts through the round of indignant huffs Lux’s comment is greeted with, and I swear, more than one of my sisters sigh. “You’re supposed to compliment pretty girls.”
“Stop flirting with my sister.”
“I’m notflirting.” Nick rakes a hand through his dark, curly hair before flattening it against his chest. “I can’t help if I’m naturally charming.”
“Naturally nauseating,” Cass corrects mockingly, slinging an arm around our friend's shoulders and tossing Lux a wink. “Leave the poor girl alone. It’s bad enough she has Jackson for a brother, she doesn’t need you ruining her life.”
“I would never,” Nick protests dramatically, hitting Lux with puppy dog eyes before pinning Cass with a scowl. “You’d be lucky to have me as a brother-in-law.”
“Lucky.” An exaggerated snort leaves Cass. “Remind me to bulk-buy condolence cards for whatever poor girl’s family gets stuck with you.”
* * *
It should be impossible, after spending my entire life surrounded by them, to forget how loud my sisters are. Yet somehow, the sheer volume they’re capable of achieving always shocks me.
Not only loud but hectic, too. Food flying, cutlery clanging, a million conversations happening at once, hard to focus on any one thing kind of hectic. Like four freight trains colliding simultaneously. By the time the guys call it a night and escape to their room, both Cass and Nick look a little shell-shocked. Even I feel a migraine incoming, and I should be used to the nonsense after almost twenty-one years.
The front door screeches as I escape the mayhem-rife kitchen, weathered wood creaking beneath me as I settle on the top step of the porch, tilting my face toward the stars twinkling above me. Besides my sisters, this is one of the things I miss most about ranch life; clear, country skies, nothing but stars for miles.
A moment of peace is all I get before footsteps sound, a body plopping down beside me at the same time a beer, ice-cold and dripping with condensation, nudges my hand. Accepting the drink, I slide Lux a disapproving look as she sips one of her own. She rolls her eyes. “I’m nineteen, not nine.”
“Still not twenty-one.”
“Neither are you.”
Only a couple of months shy, I could argue, but I’m not in the mood to bicker. Instead, I sigh, resting back on one hand and bringing the beer to my lips with the other, an honest admission changing the subject. “This place looks really good.”
More understating; ‘really good’ doesn’t begin to cover it. A single walk-through and a glance at the books proved this place is running smoother than it ever did under anyone else’s control. Dream career or not, Lux is a natural at this.
“It better,” my sister grumbles, her smile weak as pulls her knees up to her chest, resting a cheek atop them. “It’s taken enough of my blood, sweat, and tears. The renovation almost killed me.” Her attempt at humor falls flat, probably because there’s too much truth to be found behind her words.
“They didn't help?“ I don’t know why I ask when I already know the answer; of course, they didn’t. They never do. Our grandparents' idea of ‘parenting’ involves depositing a hefty cheque in our bank accounts once a month.
Although, that is slightly better than that of our parents, which involves simply disappearing from our lives altogether.
“They paid,” Lux drawls, the defeat in her tone hiding behind a layer of sarcasm. “That’s enough for them.”
I must not hide my annoyance very well because Lux lays a hand on my knee, patting comfortingly. “It’s fine. I have help.”
I scoff—knowing who her help is, I’m not exactly soothed. “How are Dopey and Sleepy?”
