Page 26 of Chaos

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

I startle with a curse. Head swinging towards the teenager strutting into the barn, barking dogs dancing around her feet, I start to correct her only to swear again instead. “Fuck.” I glare at the stallion who just sank his fucking teeth into my wrist, already back in his beloved corner. “What the hell, my guy?”

“See.” Eliza pulls a face. “Violent.”

Muttering for her to shut up, I whistle for the dogs excitedly scratching at my shins to do the same thing. Naturally, only Grouch obeys, because the only words her yapping brother knows aregoodandboy—the exact words my little sister summons her dog back to her side with, affectionately pattingright above the eyepatch of brown fur that earned the pup his name.

Me, on the other hand, Eliza admonishes with a tut. “You’re not supposed to get so close. That horse is a headcase.”

“No, he’s not,” I defend with a whole of conviction for someone wearing the imprint of his teeth.

Like she’s thinking the same thing, Eliza squints at my hand. “He just bit you.”

“Because you startled him.” Shaking out my wrist, I show off nothing but a red mark, no broken skin. “The dogs did more damage than that when they were puppies. You never called them violent.”

“If bydogs,” Eliza drawls, “you mean your little demon, then I sure as hell did. Pirate wouldn’t hurt a fly, would you, my good boy?”

Hergood boyonce left a dead rabbit on our doorstep, but God forbid I bring that up.

Instead, I push off the stall and get back to work, heading outside to grab the hose and fill up the water troughs. “What do you want, pipsqueak?”

Eliza kisses her teeth at the nickname, but she still holds out a aluminum-foil-wrapped cylinder. “Brought you breakfast,” she grumbles, a terrible attempt at sullenness considering the smile curling her mouth. “Since you keep skipping it.”

Hooking the hose over my shoulder, I peel back the tinfoil and groan at the sight of a loaded breakfast burrito. “You know you’re my favorite sister, right?”

She smiles, somehow haughty and sweet at the same time. “I’m everyone’s favorite sister.”

I snort, but I can’t argue.

“Thanks, little one,” I mumble around a mouthful of tortilla, eggs and avocado, knocking my shoulder against hers on my way back inside the barn.

She makes another huffy noise because she doesn’t like that nickname either, but it’s not enough to deter her. She still follows me inside, stealing the hose so she can refill the troughs herself and leaving me with both hands free to scoff my breakfast.

We finish our tasks quickly, and I take the hose back so I can rinse off my hands, mid-drying them off on my jeans when arms wrap around me from the side.

If Eliza feels me stiffen, she doesn’t acknowledge it. If anything, her grip tightens as she practically suffocates me with an impromptu, unwanted fuckingsnuggle. “Feel like I’ve barely seen you, Lot. I thought you being back would mean you actually being around, y’know.”

Chewing on my bottom lip, I awkwardly reach up to pat my little sister on the shoulder. “I’m always around.”

Eliza pulls away, eyes narrowed—espresso brown eyes she inherited from our mother, the same as Lux and Jackson, darker than mine and Grace’s. “You’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“You're avoiding Lux which means you're avoiding me by default.”

Again, I can’t argue. But Icancounter, “She’savoidingme.”

Eliza scoffs, one hand dropping to her hip while the other dismisses my claim with a wave. “She doesn’t have the time or the energy to avoid you. She’s just busy.”

A fresh wave of discomfort washes over me, my body so stiff it’s like there’s a steel rod where my spine should be. “Is she still…”

“Raising a child, running two businesses, and spitting in the face of any real, meaningful help?” Eliza finishes for me with a sigh and an eye roll. “Of course. What else would she be doing?”

Old habits die hard, I guess. Ifhabitsis a synonym for awhole fuck ton of responsibilities imposed on someone too young to shoulder them.“She’s, like… okay, though, right?”

“She’s as good as any of us,” Eliza answers with a vague shrug before that pretty, young face softens teasingly. “You’re so cute when you care.”

I shove the little shit away only for her to rebound even closer. She wraps her arms around me again, clinging to my side and reminding me why we used to call her our little limpet.

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