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Shortly after, a smaller female walked through the door. She threaded her fingers with the taller female’s. There was nothing kin-like about the way they held one another’s hands, leaving me to presume that they were a couple.
The smaller female looked like a little doll with her wavy auburn hair and wandering doe-like eyes. Our gazes briefly connected and she immediately looked to the floor. She wore a lovely taupe-colored dress with long, flowy sleeves, the bodice adorned with delicately stitched flowers like icing on a tiny, little cake.
The last person to walk in was nothing but legs. Judging by the brown trousers,itwas ahe. He carried a heap of bags in his arms, the towering stack well over his head, making it hard for him to see. For a second, he reminded me of Kaleb, but before I could let any deeper feelings bubble up, I walked over to him.
“Can I give you a hand with those?” I asked, peering around the stack of bags, seeing his face for the first time. He looked young, boyish still. His dirty-blond hair hung over his brown eyes. He blew up a chunk of hair to the side so he could see and offered me a kind smile. “I think I’ll be alright. If you could just get the basement door.” He nodded in its direction and I peered over my shoulder, noticing it for the first time.
Oh yes, he reminded me of Kaleb—always biting off more than he could chew but pushing forward anyway.
“Of course.” I walked towards the basement door tucked into the underside of the stairs and opened it for him. He used his foot to feel for the step before he slowly started his descent.
“Hello, kids,” Ezra crooned behind me as she bustled over towards them. They exchanged hugs with her, making small talk about the weather before moving on to the headway being made with the rebels and so forth, filling Ezra in on anything she had missed.
Watching her interact with them, these people she clearly had an established relationship with, was—well . . . it was odd. But I supposed it was something I would get used to.
I offered my hand to the doe-eyed girl who just happened to be the closest to me. “Hello,” I said in greeting.
She peered at my hand, leaving it hanging there, as if she were unsure what to do with it.
The tall brunette stepped in between us, and although the movement seemed protective, she offered a warm smile. “I’m Harper, and this is Lyra,” she said, gesturing to herself and then to the petite female at her side. Lyra stepped closer to Harper, the magnetic pull between them impossible not to notice.
Lyra offered me a timid smile, but her eyes did not meet my face.
“Nice to meet you both. I’m Sage,” I replied, returning my name.
The brown-haired male slipped in, his hands in his pockets. He let out a low whistle. “Von didn’t mention you were such a looker.” He flashed a roguish smile, showcasing his perfect white teeth. “I’m Ryker.”
The way he said his name, with such ownership—such confidence, I didn’t doubt that he was. He could slap a copyright mark on it and I wouldn’t think twice.
“Nice to meet you, Ryker,” I said, banking on him having heard me say my name to Harper and Lyra a few seconds ago.
“Pleasure’s all mine,” Ryker replied, that handsome grin making another debut. With a smile like that, I wondered how many women chased him down, begging for an encore.
There was no doubt about it. Ryker was a stud.
Von silently maneuvered to my side, his feet having no business being that quiet.
Ryker looked at Von, his smile fading. In all seriousness, he said, “Did you drink all the bourbon without me?”
Von thumbed over his shoulder towards the kitchen. “Just restocked it yesterday.”
“You two idiots better not be planning on screwing off to the taverns tonight,” Harper scolded.
In that moment, I decided I liked her already.
“Sister, listen here.” Ryker slung his arm over her shoulder, the weight of it causing her shoulder to drop. “The fact that you’re fifteen minutes older than me means diddly fucking squat.”
“I’ll show you diddly fucking squat,” she hissed as she shook off his arm, her hand emitting a ball of burning flame.
Ezra whacked them both over the heads with the back of her wooden spoon, an audiblethunk-thunksounding in the process. “That’s enough, you two.”
Harper’s flame ball retreated into her palm as she reached up and rubbed the ache. Ryker performed the same action, his movements mirroring hers, their synchronicity comical.
Von and I chuckled, and judging by the humor in Lyra’s eyes, she would have as well—if she could. I had yet to hear Lyra speak . . . I was beginning to wonder if she could.
Ezra shooed us to the table. “Alright, kids, take a seat. We have a few things to discuss. But first—” She plucked the giant bowl of mush off the counter and plopped it onto the table. “—let’s eat.”
We were all thinking it.
