Page 92 of South of The Skyway

“I thought I told you to keep your pants on,” he jabbed as I turned around. Alice was curled up against the sofa with a book in her lap, long, dark locks swept back into a braid. She didn’t bother to look up from her reading, wordlessly hoisting a pillow into the air, which I snatched to cover myself with.

Royal was sprawled out beside her, belly up and head pressed against the side of her thigh. Mav, humming under his breath, sat on the opposite side of the couch, scrolling on his phone, blessedly oblivious. The singing was an omnipresent habit he’d picked up somewhere between first and second grade and never gotten rid of. His brown curls stuck out from under the cap he had on backwards.

“Thanks, Alice,” I grumbled, lumbering back to my bedroom as Jameson burst into maniacal laughter.

I returned the gun to the safe, cursing the jackass as my girl stirred awake to the sound of his resounding humor.

“’S happening?” Brex mumbled, blinking into the gloom of the trailer’s master, long legs stretching out towards the window as she stretched and rotated to her side.

“Nothing, baby, go back to sleep.” I tossed the sheets more securely across her mouthwatering, naked body. I’d had plans for our morning, and my siblings in my kitchen certainly weren't part of it.

I jerked on my sweats, snatching my shirt from the floor. With one last glance as her eyes drifted shut, I closed the door with a click.

“You’re out of milk,” Jameson’s voice trailed back as someone started the stereo. Jack Johnson’s “Better Together” started over the trailer speakers. The front door creaked open again, and I made a mental note to pick up some W-D-40 from the hardware store.

“Have you seen the bunnies?!” Hadlee. My little sister’s voice greeted me a moment before she came bounding in the door with a grin stretching her face. Hads was the smallest of my sisters, clocking in around five foot three and a hundred and ten pounds if she was soaking wet and wearing a winter jacket. She made up for her size with an attitude big enough to make boat captains squirm. Underneath the sass was a heart of gold. Conveniently, the same color as her long, wavy hair.

Her smile twisted into a knowing, mischievous smirk when she spotted me. The same one she constantly plastered on when she was up to no good. We’d called her Hurricane Hadlee as a toddler, due to her supreme ability to remove every single jar, piece of Tupperware, pot, pan, and wooden spoon in the kitchen within thirty seconds or less. The smile only reinforced the moniker.

“Rhy! This place is amazing!” She slammed into me with the force of a linebacker, and I laughed as I caught her, hoisting her off the ground. Petite arms snaked around my neck. “You didn’t tell me we havebunnies!”

“All of Florida seems to have bunnies, Hads.”

“So cute.” She smacked a wet kiss on my cheek, and I laughed, lowering her to the ground to wipe my face. “You look good, Rhy. Happy. Sleepy. Want some tea?”

“Uh, yeah, thanks.”

“I brought a new chai blend. You’re gonna love it. It’s on the counter.”

I poured myself a cup of Hadlee’s tea from the French press, emptying it to make coffee for Brex, who would undoubtedly not sleep long with this level of energy in our tiny space. Camera in hand, laptop tucked beneath her arm, Hadlee reappeared from the small middle room I used as an office, making a beeline to the bar stool beside Elora.

“How’s the blog?” I asked, as she passed by.

“Busy!” She chirped happily. “I’ve got two shoots and about a week's worth of road posts to catch up on.” Hadlee’s passion for travel had entangled effortlessly with a knack for capturing authentic portraits and weaving stories with words. Her travel blog had built up through college and took off in the last year, complete with advertising deals and sponsors sending her free boots, tents, and tools that made life on the road a bit easier. She lived for the adventure.

“Good, sis. Good.” I focused on my tea as Jameson slid another pancake onto the castle of breakfast carbs. If Jameson was in charge, there’d be enough sugar in there to satisfy a small herd of horses. He didn’t bother to vocalize as he turned back to the stove, his inked chest already sweaty, shirt tucked in a back pocket. We were just missing Jeanne, Paxton, Axel, Finn, the twins, and our parents. Parents, who I assumed were up examining the new house or peppering Ed with this morning’s edition of twenty questions.Good luck, Ed.Flicking my eyes to the bedroom, where I swore I’d heard a creak of floorboards, I looked back with a scowl on my face.

“Clothe yourself, jackass.”

“Oil splatter, asshole.”

Rolling my eyes, I poured the coffee grounds into the French press as the kettle whistled. “Because oil burns are better than stains?”

“It’s fucking hot here, okay. Milo is crazy, letting that woman drag his ass into the third circle of hell. This level’s penance? The creatures ofJumanji.”

“You’ve been here for what, an hour?” I said, laughing. Absolutely sure I’d heard a shift in the bedroom this time, I poured the water and turned for a mug.

“I swear to God, I saw a mosquito the size of my palm this morning. Those little lizard things are fucking everywhere.”

“They’re adorable,” Hadlee crooned, not bothering to look up from her work.

“Tell me that when you’re foaming from the mouth, Hads. I’m going to have nightmares about them crawling over me.”

“Has anyone reminded you you’re a freaking baby?” Elora piped up, glaring at Jameson as he flopped another pancake onto the pile. “They’re lizards, not rabid rats.”

Five minutes surrounded in their chaos, and my cheeks already hurt from smiling. “Seriously though? When the hell did you get in? You’re like locusts.”

“You know what it’s like getting anywhere from that godforsaken rock,” Alice grumbled. Flying in and out of a remote island prone to thick fog and rain was a bit like playing roulette. Some days you could leave, some you couldn’t without any idea of which one your tickets were booked on. From there, it was usually two, three, or four connections to get anywhere in the lower forty-eight. Red eyes were a give-in. Overnight layovers, even more so.

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