Page 7 of Campfires & Canines
“Of course, I’ll be fine,” Hazel says.
Heath glances my way and gives a subtle shake of his head, ordering me to stay behind. As he follows Fisher, two lanky figures sidle past them. I hear "Hi, Dad!" followed by, "Bye, Dad!"
The twins slide into the empty spots at our table, causing the bench to creak. They’re identical but easy to tell apart. Cedar, the older twin, is clean-cut with a tan from working outdoors, while Onyx needs a haircut and to get outdoors more often. He’s in an oversized band t-shirt and ripped jeans, still looking like a gawky teenager.
"Hey guys, this is Hazel." Marigold smiles sweetly at Cedar.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Cedar." He is courteous and careful, unlike his brother.
"Onyx." His brother stretches out, crowding Sable until she levels a withering glare at him. That causes him to scoot away.
With a tired sigh, Sable rises. “Be respectful, boys,” she warns before walking towards the diner.
The admonition is applicable. Onyx is a loose cannon at the best of times. I used to see him as fun and spontaneous, the opposite of Cedar. Cedar is the friend you ask to pick you up from the bar when you’ve had too much to drink. He is reliable and prefers plants over people, so you know he isn’t out partying too.
Onyx tips his head towards me, a sardonic grin blooming across his face. “How’re you doing, Slate?”
Before I can come up with a response that will put him in his place, the twin’s little sister stomps up to our table. Briar is balancing baby Dahlia on her hip. She got stuck with babysitting duty when Hawthorne was called away with Heath.
Dark curls bouncing, Dahlia is grinning while she yanks on fistfuls of Briar’s dishwater-blonde hair. "Marigold, can you take her until her parents are free?" She shoves the one-year-old into Marigold's lap and practically runs away.
"Oh, she's so cute!" Hazel coos, reaching out and lifting Dahlia’s chubby fist with her finger. The baby grabs on and tugs Hazel’s hand towards her mouth.
“This is Crickett’s daughter,” I say.
“Oh!” Hazel leans around Marigold to smile at me. Marigold might be sunshine, but Hazel’s smile is moonlight washing over me. “So you’re my little cousin too!” Hazel’s tone modulates upwards and she exaggerates each syllable.
"Second cousin," Cedar adds, doubtlessly without thinking. He's a walking encyclopedia. "Technically."
“Oh she is, isn’t she? Want to hold her?” Marigold lifts Dahlia up under her armpits and plops her in Hazel’s lap.
"Aren't you the sweetest little second cousin?" Hazel bounces her knees, making Dahlia gurgle. Her baby smile is accompanied by a drizzle of drool. Marigold wipes it away with a spare napkin.
The girls fuss over Dahlia, squeezing her little thigh rolls and kissing her sticky hands, until Hawthorne finally breaks away to retrieve his daughter.
"She likes you," Hawthorne says, lifting Dahlia to his chest and patting her back. She reaches for his beard and gives it a yank. He chuckles and tries to loosen her grip. "Let's go help Mama."
"She's adorable." Hazel waves at Dahlia as Hawthorne heads towards the kitchen.
"You know, that means we’re family too, Hazel," Onyx drawls.
Marigold frowns. "What are you talking about?"
"Because, you know, Slate is so far up Heath's butt, they must have merged into one person by this point. And he's our cousin, ergo, so is Hazel!”
Onyx's eyes gleam, daring me to react. Marigold smacks the back of his head for me.
Hazel glances between them, nervous energy rolling off her.
"Dude, that doesn’t even make sense." Cedar rubs the back of his neck.
"Knock it off, Onyx." Marigold glares at him, waiting for an apology.
"Sorry, you're right. Hazel is way too beautiful to be related to this guy." Onyx takes another shot, crooking his thumb in my direction.
I let my breath out heavily, my eyes narrowing in warning.
Onyx’s triumphant grin tells me he got exactly what he wanted – to rile me up. Asshole.
