Even Hamilton looks impressed, though he tries to hide it behind his usual mask of indifference. We all knew there were lakes on the land, but seeing one up close like this… it’s breathtaking.
“This is perfect!” Prescott exclaims, already tugging off his backpack. “Can we swim? Tell me we can swim.”
Ruby laughs—a genuine sound that echoes across the water. “That’s why I brought you here.”
Prescott needs no further encouragement. He strips down to his boxers, his tail wagging so hard it’s practically a blur. I catch Hamilton’s eye, and for once, we share the same thought: our nerdy, introverted little brother is happy.
“What the hell,” I mutter, pulling my shirt over my head. “When in Rome.”
“We’re not in Rome,” Hamilton points out dryly. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, about to swim in an unregulated body of water that probably contains parasites and—”
His lecture is cut short by Prescott’s spectacular cannonball into the lake, sending a spray of water high into the air. His delighted squeals echo off the surrounding hills.
“Come on, Ham,” I tease, unbuckling my belt. “Live dangerously for once.”
“I take calculated risks,” he corrects stiffly. “This isn’t—”
Ruby suddenly darts past us both, stripping down to her sports bra and boyshorts with fluid grace. “Last one in is a corporate sellout!” she calls over her shoulder before diving into the water with barely a splash.
I laugh at Hamilton’s scandalized expression. The tension between him and Ruby has been uncomfortable at best, explosive at worst. The fact that they’ve hate-banged each other hasn’t exactly helped matters.
But here, in this hidden corner of Wolfstone, the dynamics feel different. Lighter.
I kick off my boots and jeans, leaving me in just my boxers. “Coming, big brother?”
Hamilton glares at me, but I don’t miss how his eyes track Ruby’s movements as she surfaces with a triumphant whoop, water streaming from her hair.
“This is highly unprofessional,” he grumbles.
“That’s kind of the point,” I reply, then turn and run for the water, launching myself in with abandon.
The lake is perfect—cool enough to refresh, but not so cold it shocks. I surface with a gasp, shaking water from my eyes to find Prescott already engaged in a splashing contest with Ruby. A pig having the time of his life.
My own ears twitch happily, picking up the sounds of birds, rustling leaves, and my brothers’ voices.
“Come on, Hamilton!” Prescott calls. “The water’s amazing!”
To my genuine surprise, Hamilton actually begins removing his hiking gear, methodically folding each item before placing them on a rock. Even when letting loose, he can’t help being Hamilton.
“I can’t believe it,” I say to Ruby as she swims closer. “You broke Hamilton.”
She grins, water droplets clinging to her eyelashes. “Not broken. Just… rebooting.”
Hamilton enters the water with considerably more dignity than the rest of us, wading in slowly rather than diving. But once he’s chest-deep, something in him visibly shifts and he tilts his head back to look at the sky.
“It is… pleasant,” he admits reluctantly.
Prescott seizes the opportunity to send a massive splash in Hamilton’s direction, drenching his carefully maintained hair. For one terrifying second, I think Hamilton might actually murder our little brother—but then something miraculous happens.
Hamilton Porkwell, CEO and notorious hardass, splashes back.
What follows is the most ridiculous, childish, and utterly delightful water fight I’ve participated in since we were children. All four of us splashing and diving and laughing like we don’t have competing business interests and complicated histories.
At some point, I swim to the far edge of the lake, drawn by something I spotted from the center: a stretch of shoreline composed of dark, rich mud glistening invitingly in the sun.
I haven’t had a proper mud wallow in years. It’s not exactly socially acceptable for the architect of Porkwell Development to roll around in dirt. But here, with the others distracted by their splash war…
I haul myself out of the lake, water streaming from my boxers, and approach the mud patch. It looks perfect—not too thick, not too thin, warmed by the sun to just the right temperature.
