Page 240 of Things Left Unsaid

His nose crinkles as he clicks his fingers. “My plans are foiled.”

“They’re certainly something.”

An hour after I drop offGrand-mère’s coffee in the French press she likes and with some of the cookies I know she prefers, she makes an appearance downstairs.

That’s when I’m shown another side entirely to my stalwart grandmother.

The tripletsribher. And she lets them.

Walker was grounded for talking back and I was never allowed to sit at the kitchen table with my elbows on it, but Carson’s still embracing his naturist self and Calder never lets her get away with anything yet doesn’t earn so much as a harrumph.

But, as I watch their interactions, their byplay, I can’t help but be grateful that their relationship with her is different.

They didn’t have Mom and Dad around like Walker and I did. They were our light in the shadows. It’s only right that she softened that harsh exterior to let them in because if she hadn’t, they’d have had no one.

For that and that alone, I can be thankful.

I can also feel guilty because clearly, I’ve sucked as a big sister more than I even realized.

So, when Callan comes and picks me up after receiving our code, I kiss her on the cheek in silent gratitude because if it weren’t for her, the boys would have been orphans for real. And if it weren’t for her, I’d never have been able to escape Pigeon Creek to mature in NYC…

She might be a pain in the ass, but she’s our pain in the ass.

I don’t suppose I can ask for anything else.

Colt

Run - Stephen Fretwell

“Hey, Colt!” Mia, Cole’s fiancée, chirps in greeting.

My younger brother, on the other hand, looks like someone died.

“Mia.” I press a kiss to her cheek. “Good to see you.”

She nudges Cole when he folds his arms in greeting and glowers at me. “Don’t be a baby. He wanted you to spend your birthday with people who love you. That’s not a crime, Cole.”

He squints at her. “Whose side are you on?”

“The side of righteousness.”

“You and your sci-fi books.”

“What does sci-fi have to do with righteousness?”

“Duh. Isn’t it obvious?”

After all these years of railroading three brothers, I’m a pro at spotting an argument in the making so I clear my throat.

His attention flickers to me, and so does his fist—he punches me in the shoulder. “You suck.”

“I don’t.” I’m in no mood for his BS, birthday or not.

Ignoring the big baby masquerading as my little brother, I go through the preflight checks and we’re in the air not long after.

One smooth flight later, we disembark. Unsurprisingly, the whole family—aside from Zee—is waiting beside the runway.

Mrs. Abelman included.

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