With a pep in his step, Ford takes the lead, jogging down the stairs. “Hey, Unc— Oh.” Ford stops short at the base of the stairs, then rushes forward with open arms.
Hawke follows after. “What the hell are you doin’ here, Cobie?”
A divot forms between my brows as I register our little sister’s name. Cobie? What? I hurry after them, caught between surprise and disbelief. Sure enough, there she is. Light brown hair. The sweetest smile. And bright green eyes that mirror our mom’s. My baby sister in the flesh. I haven’t seen her since last Christmas. When we were younger, Titas would dangle her visits like carrots to a horse. As we got older, we gave up begging him to bring her home, resigning ourselves to the holidays and maybe a week or two during the summer. She’s grown a couple inches, and her hair is longer, too. But her smile? It’s the same one she’s had since birth, but now it’s full of white, straight teeth instead of nothing but gums. My chest tightens at the memory. “You’ve grown!” I call as she’s passed around from one brother to the next like a joint after finals. Ford first, then Hawke. In the corner of the family room sits Judge. I can’t decide if it’s relief I see on his face or resignation. What the hell is going on?
“Hey, Judge,” I greet him.
“Hey, Jag.” He stands, offering his hand since he lost all ground for hugs the moment he took our dad’s side instead of his nephews’. I take the subtle olive branch, shaking his hand as my brothers pepper Cobie with questions. Stealing her from them, I pull my baby sister into a hug and rest my chin against the top of her head. “Hey, Cobes.”
“Hey, big bro,” she mumbles against my chest.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, repeating Hawke’s sentiment.
With a final pat against my back, she wiggles free from my grasp, smiles up at me, and looks at each of us in the room. “Dad decided my time in purgatory was up and called me home.” Her slim shoulders lift an inch. “So, here I am.”
“Cobes,” Judge warns.
“Okay, fine,” she caves. “I may or may not have been banished from Purgatory’s grounds for…reasons…and figured I’d crash on my brothers’ couch while I finish out the rest of the year online.” She shoots our uncle a scathing look. “Happy now?”
Purgatory is the nickname Cobie created for the all girls preparatory academy she’s attended for the last four years. Well, three and a half, technically.
“What do you mean, banished?” Ford questions.
“Would’ve been expelled if your dad hadn’t intervened,” Judge mumbles.
With a gasp of outrage, Cobie tosses her hands in the air. “Hey! I thought you said you’d keep it between us!”
“What’d you do, Cobes?” Hawke pushes. I don’t miss the amusement in his voice. Pretty sure the girl could commit murder, and we’d all find a way to see it as cute instead of sinister.
“Well…” She grimaces. “I may or may not have accidentally burned down half the dorms, but how was I supposed to knowvanilla scented candles can burn stuff down if you leave them unattended? It was in a glass container!”
Dropping my head toward the ceiling, I groan, “Coooobes.”
“I know, okay?” She stomps her foot and folds her arms. “I know I screwed up, and I’m sorry.” She scowls at our uncle again. “I told you I’d get another lecture.”
“They also never found a candle,” Judge adds, undeterred by her prickliness.
“Because it melted away!” she argues.
“Mm-hmm,” he grunts, folding his arms over his chest.
Never thought I’d see eye to eye with Judge, but I think he’s onto something.
Yeah, now I see the real problem. Our little angel of a sister is lying through her perfectly straight teeth. Did the little shit start the fire on purpose? If she did, she deserves a standing ovation. Talk about pissing off our father. I glance at Hawke, curious if he’s thinking the same thing. When the bastard feels my stare, his mouth curves up, confirming my suspicion.
“No more lectures,” Ford promises. “Besides, a burned down dorm is nothing compared to crossing into The Drift in Daddy Dearest’s eyes, so you’re still the angel of the family.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she pouts. “Dad was so mad I’m pretty sure he thinks I traded in my halo for a pair of devil horns.”
“Always the overachiever,” I quip.
She gives me her signature wide grin, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “Always.” Threading her fingers behind her lower back, she rocks back on her heels and turns to the elephant in the room. “Hey, Romeo.” Cobie’s smile turns shy. I almost forget. Her interactions with the opposite sex have been limited to blood ties since she was twelve. I always blamed our overprotective father, but if I’m being honest, I doubt growingup with three older brothers has been much of a picnic for the girl.
I cast a quick glance at Hawke, who’s already looking at Ford, who’s busy staring at our best friend. She’s been calling Roman Romeo since she was a little kid. Ford tried it once, and the right hook he suffered knocked him out cold. Since then, none of us have dared to tease him about the nickname. But when Cobie says it? The guy stays quiet. I’ve always wondered if it’s because of the age difference. If he looks at her like a little sister, too, and doesn’t want to hurt her feelings by calling her out for something so trivial. It’s not really any of my business. If Roman doesn’t care, then I shouldn’t, either. But it is a question I always find intriguing. Watching their relationship, I wonder if it’s how we look around her, too. Giving in and bending over backwards, well aware she has each of us wrapped around her pretty little finger.
“Cobie,” Roman says in greeting.
“How are you?” she asks.
