Page 50 of Chaos (The Serenity Ranch #2)

She’s right. He does regret it the next morning.

She’s wrong. He doesn’t regret what he said, only how he said it.

There’s something decidedly, specifically unnerving about walking into your home and finding someone who looks exactly like you lounging on the sofa.

Well, not exactly . Minus the red hair and all the piercings.

While I wear sweaty workout clothes, my almost mirror-image is pristine in a pretty, pink tennis dress.

And as my face settles in a frown, the one that’s only slightly different blossoms with a smile, so bright and so sweet that the handful of other people in the living room smile too.

Frozen with shock in the doorway of the A-frame, I demand answers harsher than I mean to. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Jesus, Lot.” Laughing quietly, the neater, nicer version of me stands. “Two years apart and your favorite sister can’t even get a hug?”

I slip my backpack off my shoulders, letting it hit the ground with a thud. “Eliza is my favorite sister.”

Grace snorts. “Yeah, mine too.”

Briefly, my gaze drifts over each member of our audience before returning to the girl advancing on me. “Liar.”

“Yeah,” she easily concedes right as she wraps her arms around me. “You too.”

I only hesitate momentarily before returning the hug. As my twin goes lax against me, I tuck my chin against her neck, sighing, not fighting the affection nor the content sensation that nestles behind my ribcage. “I thought you weren’t coming until Thursday.”

I can only make it the day before the wedding, she’d claimed.

Dirty little liar.

“Thought I’d surprise you.” Grace pulls back, hazel eyes roving over my dishevelled self. “Did you run here?”

“She does that,” Yasmin pipes up, and we turn to her in unison. “Woah. That’s kind of freaky.”

I crook a brow, and judging by the look on my roommates’ faces, Grace does too. “What’s freaky?”

It’s Theo who answers. “Y’all really look alike.”

“We’re twins, dipshit.”

“ Lottie .” Backhanding me on the chest, Grace sighs. “That wasn’t nice.”

“I’m sorry,” I drawl. “When, exactly, have I ever given you the impression that I am nice?”

From where he’s sprawled on the sofa, Adam quips, “I’m gonna go with never.”

“Hey.” Eyes narrowed, Grace stabs a finger in his direction. “Watch it.”

Holding up his hands innocently, he mouths an apology, but I’m not paying him any attention—I’m freaking gazing at my twin, my nails digging into my palms as I resist the urge to rub at the sudden ache in my chest.

Before I can think myself out of it, I yank her into another hug, squeezing her tightly. “Missed you, Gracie.”

“See. You can be nice.” One hand rubbing soothing circles near the nape of my neck, the other pats gently. “Missed you more.”

We separate again and I cross my arms over my chest, my nose twitching with an itch. “Yeah, probably.”

Grace socks me on the bicep, but she’s laughing, tossing an arm across my shoulders, dragging me towards the kitchen. “We made dinner while we were waiting for you.”

“Yeah?” I peer into the various pots and bowls scattered across the counters. “Whatcha make?”

“Chilli.”

I jolt as a deep timbre rumbles closer than I expected. And again when I turn to Finn right as he slides past me, the side of his arm brushing my chest.

And again when his hand settles on my twin’s shoulder, casually affectionate. “Go sit. I’ll finish up.”

And once more for good measure when Grace is casually affectionate right back, briefly interlocking their fingers and squeezing. “Thanks, Finn.”

I think I black out for a second. A long, unhinged second where my throat feels tight and my skin crawls and I wonder if the guy who claims to like me is thinking he should like the better version of me instead.

If he’s changing his mind right this very second.

If talking to Grace, if just looking at her, makes everything that’s wrong with me seem all the more clear.

I don’t recall moving outside, but that’s where I suddenly find myself, dropped into a deck chair with Grace sitting beside me, poking my shoulder incessantly. “So.”

Slowly, I blink back to reality. At my twin’s expectant look, I sigh and prepare myself for the verbal spanking I know is coming—one to rival the one I got the last time we saw each other, when I was tearing out of town like a bat out of hell and she was yelling at me to get my head out of my ass, to grow up, to stop being so fucking selfish.

Instead of repeating history, Grace jerks her head back towards the A-frame. “Spill.”

Following the motion, I stare through the windows at the group gathered in the kitchen, dishing up dinner. “Spill what?”

“Tell me about Finn, dummy. What’s going on there?”

I want to do a lot of things that are not friendly.

I shift, sinking deeper into my wooden seat. “Nothing.”

“Oh, please, Pinocchio.”

She flicks my nose and I bat her away with a huff. “I’m not lying. Nothing is going on.”

Like, nothing nothing. We haven't spoken since that night. Barely a week ago, but what feels like an eternity. He mumbles in my direction and he works in my vicinity and he makes me feel awful because he’s quieter with everyone, not just me, and I feel like I’ve snuffed the light out in fucking Tinkerbell.

I won’t feel guilty. I can’t. I did the right thing, I know that in my bones. He doesn’t like me. Like I said, he’s confused. He’s too nice. He sees someone struggling, he sees a hot fucking mess, and he wants to fix it. That’s all I am. A project. A fascination, a fixation.

He does not actually like me.

He’ll figure it out soon enough.

Grace clucks her tongue. “I don't believe you.”

“Well, that’s your prerogative.”

“Lux says you spend a lot of time together.”

Spent , my silly, emotional brain laments. We don’t anymore . “We work together. We live together. That’s it. He’s single so…” I slice a hand through the air. “Have at it.”

Grace snorts, rolling her eyes. “Eliza said you went to the drive-in together.”

Oh my God. I’m committing double sororicide. “We all went to the drive-in. All the hands.”

“Y’know, Luna and Jackson’s first date was at a drive-in.”

I tilt my head towards the sky. “Kill me, please.”

Taking pity on me— barely —Grace reaches over to pat my thigh. “You look really good.”

“Thanks.” I pretend that I need to look at her, that I need to think about it before returning the compliment. “So do you.”

“Feeling good?”

“Uh-huh.” I look down at my lap, watching my forefinger as it picks at the nail polish on my thumb. “I, uh, get my ninety day chip this weekend.”

“I know.” Instantly, a tan, freckled hand slips around one of mine and squeezes. “That’s great, Lottie.”

“Yeah.” I shift awkwardly, clearing my throat. “And you? How’s the team?

Grace’s shrug isn’t quite the enthusiastic response I expected. “They're fine.”

Uh-oh. Not the f-word. “You having problems?”

“No. It’s just…” She rolls her lips together. “Fine. It’s fine. Everything’s good.”

Before I have a chance to call bullshit, Grace braces her palms against the armrests of her chair and pushes herself to stand. “I’m gonna go tell them we’re done bonding and they can come out now.”

“Jesus, Grace,” I mimic her earlier tone. “Two years apart and you can only stand five minutes alone with me?”

“I’m letting you acclimate. Small doses and all that.”

I roll my eyes, sighing and pretending to be bothered when Grace stoops to smack a loud, dramatic kiss to my forehead. “By the way,” she ruffles my hair as she straightens. “I have zero interest.”

I drop my head back to frown up at her. “What’re you talking about?”

She palms my cheeks, pinching them gently. “I have zero interest,” she repeats, no less cryptic. That is, until her gaze discreetly flicks to the building behind us again. Until she adds, “And he has zero interest in me.”

I stiffen. I grumble that I don’t care. I swat my twin away, shove her towards the door.

But as her footsteps recede, I clear my throat pointedly.

The footsteps stop.

I cough again, slumping low enough in my seat that Grace can’t see me over the back of it, she can’t see me as I ask, “Really?”

There are no quips. No jibes. Just a soft, genuine, “Really.”

And a pause.

And a repeated, re-emphasized, “He has zero interest in me ,” that makes my mind whir as loudly as the cicadas chirping in the darkness.

“Whatcha doing out here, chaos?”

As Luna drops down beside me on the front porch of her house—the one Jackson built for them, nestled in the wilds of Serenity—she scarcely gives me a chance to breathe, let alone answer, before chuckling lowly.

“Ah.” She leans back on one hand, using the other to slide her sunglasses an inch down the bridge of her nose. “I see.”

I shift my narrowed gaze from the thing—the things —I was definitely not staring at to the woman who’s a matter of days away from officially becoming my sister-in-law. “You see nothing.”

“Oh, I see a lot. A whole lot.”

As I reluctantly follow her freaking beady gaze, I swallow. Gulp , really.

Yeah. I see a whole lot too. A whole lot of bared, flexed muscles belonging to the men hauling ass to set up a homegrown wedding in record time— Luna’s homegrown wedding, I remind her with a grumble.

Luna barks a laugh. “And while your lover is quite the looker, I’m not seeing anyone but my future husband.”

My lover ? You’ve got to be kidding me. “Are you drunk? Because if you are, I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t be breastfeeding.”

She drops a hand to the downy hair of the toddler latched onto her chest, rubbing in slow circles. “They teach you that in rehab?”

“First day.”

“Your first first day, or your second first day?”

“Y’know, you’re supposed to support people in recovery. Not mock them.”

“So you admit it.” She tilts her head, grinning smugly. “You’re in recovery.”

The look I shoot her is anything but amused.

The look she shoots me is… well, it’s not amused either. It’s soft, her touch just as gentle as it grazes the skin above my knee. “I’m sorry we won’t be here to celebrate on Sunday.”

I scoff. “You’re sorry you’ll be honeymooning on a white-sand beach instead of listening to some lady wax poetic about the magic of sobriety in a draughty community center? Okay .”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

Behind us, the front door squeaks open. “What’re you doing?”

Luna glances back to grin at my older sister. “Staring at your hot ranch hands.”

“Speak for yourself.” I was just sitting here.

Occasionally, unintentionally looking in the general direction of the men constructing a gazebo that doesn’t quite look big enough to accomodate the big, fancy wedding I imagine Luna wanting.

Yeah, my gaze glazed over them once or twice, but it didn’t linger.

Certainly not on Finn and the strong thighs fighting a losing battle against a worn pair of Levis or the muscled torso that might as well be bare, considering how tightly a gray compression shirt clings to it.

It didn’t linger that much.

“Yeah, right.” Lux snorts as she joins us, taking up residence on the other side of Luna.

Our missing sisters file out behind her, and Luna’s sister, Pen, too, and the subsequent appearance of the two best friends she basically considers sisters makes me wonder if my brother built this damn porch so wide in preparation for moments like these.

“ Line .” Lux hollers over her shoulder. “Get your ass out here. Our favorite show is on.”

Palpable reluctance taints the air. And then, the front door opens again. With tentative footsteps, my brother’s ex-girlfriend slowly fills the gap between me and the porch railing of a house that in some alternate universe might’ve been hers. “Hey, Lottie.”

I mentally pat myself on the back when I manage to muster up a smile. “Hi, Caroline.”

Before an awkward silence can brew, Lux breaks it. “God, he is so in love with you.”

Following her line of sight, I’m completely unsurprised to find a very large man carrying a very large table, but focusing a very large portion of his attention on the blushing woman beside me.

Jesus. Even I blush a little. I don’t know how the hell Caroline doesn’t disintegrate under the weight of all that.

Although, glancing aside, she does look one strong breeze away from toppling.

“Twenty bucks says you’re pregnant before the wedding even starts.”

Freckled cheeks flush even redder. “Not happening.”

“Hm.” Lux muses. “I wouldn’t wanna push that baby out either.”

“ Anyway .” Caroline shifts and Lux yelps, and I surmise that the former reached behind me to pinch the latter. “One of them yours?”

It takes me a second to realize she’s talking to me—and I only do because the question is so damn hesitant. I, on the other hand, don’t waste a second before barking an emphatic, “No.”

Unfortunately, at the exact same time, more than one other person claims, “ Finn .”

An impressed whistle echoes through the air—one of the bridesmaids, Amelia, dares to tear her gaze from the bronzed, tattooed figure responsible for the soft swell of her stomach just long enough to cast me an approving look. “Good choice. I like him.”

“I didn’t choose him.”

In a soppy, pathetic voice, Grace croons, “Her heart did.”

Luna shifts to face me, wide-eyed. “You have one of those?”

My eldest sister snickers. “She’s borrowing Finn’s.”

Unlike everyone else, I don’t find that quite so funny. I curl in on myself, hit by something awfully similar to shame. “Enough.”

“He’s hot,” Eliza practically yells, and Jesus Christ, I don’t think her sudden raging interest in men will ever not make me shiver.

“He is hot.”

I side-eye Luna. “You’re marrying my brother.”

She blinks innocently. “You want me to talk about how hot your brother is instead? Because I can do that. All day long. Explicitly .”

I grimace, a sentiment pretty much everyone but Luna echoes.

Cackling like the witch she is, the woman set to become the newest Jackson digs her elbow into my ribs. “Would it really be that bad?” she murmurs in a tone that’s entirely unlike the one typical of her, no tease or trouble to be heard.

I don’t request clarification. I don’t need it. I know exactly what she means. Just like I know the answer because I’ve asked myself the same question.

No, I admit to only myself. It wouldn’t be bad at all.