Page 40 of Chaos

It’s Eliza who answers, something a touch defensive to her usually upbeat tone as she squints at me from the stove. “Finnisfamily.”

Finn is family. Notlikefamily—family. The other ranch hands are employees, but Finn is family. Finn has a seat at thetable. A seat that was mine, and that’s directly across from the one I guess is mine now because Luna guides me to it. A seat that he casually slouches in, looking so very comfortable at a table I feel like I don’t belong at anymore.

Someone who’s been here for the last two years,he said. I didn’t quite catch the words at the time. I was too busy being pissed at his holier-than-thou tone.

Now, though, it sears itself into my brain.

A nice, shiny replacement, indeed.

10

Her lips left a pretty, pink ring on the unlit cigarette.

He stares at it for longer than he should.

He thinks about things he definitely shouldn’t.

When a giant behemothof a man starts running full tilt towards you, you should probably run.

Unless, of course, you recognize said behemoth because he’s been a side character in your life since you were fifteen. As has the matching giant that clunks along behind him, who helps his brawny buddy do severe damage to my internal organs by torturing me with a hug I did not ask for.

“Get off of me.” I wriggle and protest to no avail, no match for the men my brother long ago deemed Tweedledum and Tweedledee. “Simon.” I pinch an insanely developed deltoid. “Charlie.” A rock-hard oblique almost breaks my poor, poking finger. “Off.”

Whining like the overgrown manchildren they are, the ranch hands who I can’t really remember ever not being around grant me mercy.

“Really, kid?” Charlie rubs his ribs, pouting. “No love for your favorite guys?”

Ever the charmer, Simon winks. “She’s just playing it cool. You know you missed us.”

“Oh, yeah,” I drawl, not even trying to sound like I mean it. “Cried myself to sleep every night, thinking about you two.”

The duo howl and pretend to swoon, jostling me around like the completely annoying dumbasses they are, and while I roll my eyes at the losers that are the closest thing I have to extended family, I almostsmileat their antics. Because that’s what happens when I’m in a good enough mood, when I have a good enough morning.

True to his word, Jackson let me help out with Ruin and the specialist. Admittedly, the extent of my help was getting the fickle stallion from his stall to the training paddock, but I did it. And then I got to watch a professionally-trained equine behaviorist utterly fucking fail to even get within a couple of feet of him.

Honestly, I can’t blame the horse. The guy’s got a vibe. I clocked it the moment he introduced himself—Wallace van de Camp, he’d announced like I was supposed to know who the fuck that is, and didn’t evenpretendto care who I am. He’s not the right guy to work with Ruin, I knew that in my gut the second I laid eyes on him, but I kept my mouth shut.

Jackson’s smart. He’ll figure it out. If I tell him, on the other hand, he’ll be a stubborn ass and keep Van de Dickhead around just to prove a point.

Following my gaze to the stallion who seems to have a severe aversion to staying still, Charlie asks, “You’re helping with that demon?”

Snickering, Simon claps his hands over my shoulders. “Course she is. Like calls to like.”

I twist to punch an enormous, protein-powder-fuelled pec, and as I do, I catch sight of the group walking towards the barn. I don’t know if it’s the almost good mood or if my period is fucking with me, but I find myself lifting my hand in what could definitely be considered a wave.

It’s just a greeting. I’m just trying out the whole polite thing. But while most of the ranch hands take it as what it is and wave back, one of them takes it as a cue and veers my way.

The one who iced my ankle and made me a grilled cheese only a few nights ago, and who says now, “You were up early.”

I jerk my head towards the horse specialist lurking by his truck, talking to my brother. “He wanted to get a look at Ruin without anyone around to bother him.”

Obsidian eyes flick to the trainer before Finn nods. “Here.” He holds out the mug cradled in the palm of one big hand. “Thought you might need it.”

“Oh.” More than a little confused, I accept the offered beverage. God, it’s like I’ve never seen coffee before in my life, the way I stare at the dark liquid. “Thanks, Finn.”

Surprise, surprise, he smiles. Tipping his head at the men on either side of me, he jogs over to join his friends in the barn, and I’m still staring at his receding form when the snickering starts.

In a poor imitation of my voice, Charlie croons, “Thanks, Finn.”

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