Page 114 of Chaos

Grace’s shrug isn’t quite the enthusiastic response I expected. “They're fine.”

Uh-oh. Not the f-word. “You having problems?”

“No. It’s just…” She rolls her lips together. “Fine. It’s fine. Everything’s good.”

Before I have a chance to call bullshit, Grace braces her palms against the armrests of her chair and pushes herself to stand. “I’m gonna go tell them we’re done bonding and they can come out now.”

“Jesus, Grace,” I mimic her earlier tone. “Two years apart and you can only stand five minutes alone with me?”

“I’m letting you acclimate. Small doses and all that.”

I roll my eyes, sighing and pretending to be bothered when Grace stoops to smack a loud, dramatic kiss to my forehead. “By the way,” she ruffles my hair as she straightens. “I have zero interest.”

I drop my head back to frown up at her. “What’re you talking about?”

She palms my cheeks, pinching them gently. “I have zero interest,” she repeats, no less cryptic. That is, until her gaze discreetly flicks to the building behind us again. Until she adds, “And he has zero interest in me.”

I stiffen. I grumble that I don’t care. I swat my twin away, shove her towards the door.

But as her footsteps recede, I clear my throat pointedly.

The footsteps stop.

I cough again, slumping low enough in my seat that Grace can’t see me over the back of it, she can’t see me as I ask, “Really?”

There are no quips. No jibes. Just a soft, genuine, “Really.”

And a pause.

And a repeated, re-emphasized, “He has zero interest inme,” that makes my mind whir as loudly as the cicadas chirping in the darkness.

“Whatcha doing out here, chaos?”

As Luna drops down beside me on the front porch of her house—the one Jackson built for them, nestled in the wilds of Serenity—she scarcely gives me a chance to breathe, let alone answer, before chuckling lowly. “Ah.” She leans back on one hand, using the other to slide her sunglasses an inch down the bridge of her nose. “I see.”

I shift my narrowed gaze from the thing—thethings—I was definitely not staring at to the woman who’s a matter of days away from officially becoming my sister-in-law. “You see nothing.”

“Oh, I see a lot. Awholelot.”

As I reluctantly follow her freaking beady gaze, I swallow.Gulp, really.

Yeah. I see a whole lot too. A whole lot of bared, flexed muscles belonging to the men hauling ass to set up a homegrown wedding in record time—Luna’shomegrown wedding, I remind her with a grumble.

Luna barks a laugh. “And while your lover is quite the looker, I’m notseeinganyone but my future husband.”

Mylover? You’ve got to be kidding me. “Are you drunk? Because if you are, I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t be breastfeeding.”

She drops a hand to the downy hair of the toddler latched onto her chest, rubbing in slow circles. “They teach you that in rehab?”

“First day.”

“Yourfirstfirst day, or your second first day?”

“Y’know, you’re supposed tosupportpeople in recovery. Not mock them.”

“So you admit it.” She tilts her head, grinning smugly. “You’re in recovery.”

The look I shoot her is anything but amused.

---