Page 63 of Chaos (The Serenity Ranch #2)

He can’t pinpoint the exact moment his heart decides to leave his body and live in hers.

He just knows it does.

I wake up with a dry mouth, a throbbing headache, and completely alone.

Talk about deja vu.

Even though my insides protest, I roll out of bed.

My pillows, my sheets, it all smells like Finn, and it only makes my stomach roil even more.

Although, as I stagger across the room, I realize my hair smells like him too.

As do the clothes I fell asleep in—as does my entire damn room, which is why I not only crack open the window, but I climb right out of it.

With the early morning winter chill stinging my sensitive eyes, I settle on the window ledge and hug my knees to my chest, slumping against the glass.

Breathing in the fresh air, I hold it in my lungs until they start to burn before exhaling, repeating the cycle as I stare at the endless expanse of frosted green.

And even though there shouldn’t be a drop of moisture left in my body, my eyes still mist over as I think about not being here to see the first real snow of the season.

To wake up one morning and find the grass blanketed with white.

To watch the spring sunshine melt the winter away and coax out the wildflowers once more.

I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t open them when the window hinges creak, when I feel another body carefully settling beside me.

I don’t say anything and neither does my new companion, and if it’s a battle of wills they planned on waging against me, they won the second they arrived because I don’t have the energy to fight.

In a matter of seconds, I relent. “I’m sorry.”

Lux says nothing.

Digging the meaty part of my palms into my eye sockets, I try and fail to scrub away the unrelenting itch plaguing them. Just like I try and fail to cough to clear the raw rasp to my voice. “I’ll get a ride to my meeting later and then I’ll, uh…”

Eyes burn the side of my face. You’ll what? my sister silently challenges.

I swallow. “I’ll go. Get a bus or something.”

Still, she says nothing.

“I know we said six months,” I continue, even as my throat constricts. “And I know I still owe you. I’ll get a job. I’ll pay you back. You can keep the money, I don’t want it.”

“So, what?” she finally deigns to speak, and it’s not at all what I expected. Not angry. Not chiding. Just… tired. As tired as I feel. “You’re just gonna disappear again?”

“I broke the rules. Isn’t that the consequence?”

I hold my breath as I wait for an undoubtedly affirmative response. For the confirmation that this is my last morning here. That I’ve decimated my nine lives.

“I owe you an apology.”

A shocked splutter whooshes out of me. I almost tumble right off the ledge with how violently I turn to my sister. “ What? ”

“I…” Lux starts, staring at her hands, and it’s her who looks cowed, who looks ashamed. “I knew you were gonna drink the second you left Bishop’s and I didn’t do anything. I didn’t stop you, didn’t come after you, and I should’ve.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours either.” Shining eyes flit to me, hold my gaze steadfastly. “You’re an addict, Lottie. You’re sick. And I’m sorry I’ve been treating you like this is just another case of bad behaviour instead of what it is.”

My mouth gapes, nothing coming out.

“You’re not disposable, kid. I’m so, so fucking sorry I ever made you feel like that. You’re not going anywhere, do you hear me? I won’t let you. I don’t want you to.”

Turns out, I do have some tears left. A lot of them, apparently, and as they start to fall, my sister carefully bundles me in her arms with a gentle shush.

Lux holds me and it’s nice. So nice that I forget that I don’t like to be touched—I start to wonder if I’ve been pretending all along, that really, I’m just not accustomed to casual affection, not equipped to accept it.

“I am so fucking proud of you, kid,” she whispers against my cheek, right beside my ear, as if she’s giving the words the best chance possible to find their way inside me and stick.

“Last night doesn’t change that. It doesn’t erase those three months.

I will always be proud of you, and I will always want you, okay?

No matter how much we fight, no matter how much we think we hate each other, I am always gonna want you to be my sister.

You’re my girl. I need you to know that. ”

Eyes stinging and heart swollen, I can’t do anything but nod.

“Last night changes nothing,” she repeats, she insists, and I stiffen because she’s wrong.

She’s so, so wrong.

“Finn…”

Though I can’t see it, I feel her gaze soften—sympathize. “He’s working.”

“He’s mad at me.”

“Hm.” Gentle fingers tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “He was pretty upset yesterday.”

I shut my eyes again. Suck in a breath. Shift so my face is smushed against my bent knee, so the words I dare to admit are muffled—to keep Lux from hearing them, or to keep myself from, I’m not sure. “I really like him.”

“I know you do.” The weight of her head settles on top of mine. “You’ll fix it.”

“I don't think he wants me to.”

A noise rumbles in Lux’s throat, disbelieving and dismissive. “You know he called me last night?”

I nod.

“I came right over. He didn’t say it, but I knew something was wrong, I just had this feeling, and I needed to see you were alright with my own two eyes.

You were asleep when I got here, but he was awake.

Holding you. Looking at you. You know what it reminded me of?

The way Jackson looks at Luna. The way Hunter looks at Caroline. ”

That’s… I scoff. Half-hearted. Hopeful . “You’ve been reading too many romance books again.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe if a hot cowboy looked at me like that, I wouldn’t need to.”

I laugh, a watery, broken noise. And then I retreat from my hiding spot, head flopping to one side so I can assess the level of consolation behind Lux’s claim, the hilarity behind it.

I don’t know how to feel when I find none of either.

Through the windshield of my sister’s truck, Ponderosa Falls Community Center mocks me.

Failure , I swear the bland building leers. Weak .

I undid my seatbelt at least ten minutes ago, but I’ve yet to open the door.

I can’t. My shaky, stubborn, prideful hands won’t do it.

They prefer to pick at a scab on my knee that I don’t even remember getting, the prick of pain infinitely more appealing than what’s sure to be pure and utter humiliation.

Before I manage to draw blood, a hand settles on top of mine and laces our fingers together, squeezing. “Lot?”

I mutter some unintelligible acknowledgement.

“Look at me for a sec, chaos girl.”

With a shaky exhale, I lift my gaze and meet my sister’s solemn, determined one.

“You can do this.”

I don’t share her confidence—I don’t think I can. Not alone, at least.

“Will you…” I swallow hard, wetting my dry lips. “Will you come in with me?”

She was always supposed to—what with it being such a momentous occasion and all, Erica encouraged me to bring family—but I assumed she wouldn’t anymore. Evidently, we both did, because Lux blinks, surprised.

She erases her shock quickly though, nodding as enthusiastically as is considered appropriate, considering the circumstances.

When she exits the truck, I follow her lead—actually, it’s more like I’m yanked in her wake, out of the car and up the stone steps and into the draughty hall that’s already bustling with people.

Part of me—okay, maybe all of me—expects a barrage of accusatory looks the second I cross the threshold.

I wait for a whole lot of noses fine-tuned to the stench of alcohol to smell it on me, never mind the fact I’ve showered enough times to kick start a drought.

I wait for Erica to appear, ringing a bell and screaming ‘shame’ in my face.

None of that happens. Nothing happens. Nothing out of the usual, at least.

Like always, I beeline for the refreshments table, especially greedy for coffee this particular morning. Like always, someone else has already beat me there. Like always, Silas greets me with a grumbled, “Little heathen. You forget about me?”

“Old man,” I grumble right back, accepting the coffee he offers. “I could never.”

He grunts, and then he grunts again after doing what’s become a ritualistic assessment of my attire. “What’s wrong with you today?”

I play dumb, acting like I don’t already know his concern stems from the decidedly flat shoes on my feet—or maybe it’s the casual leggings and baggy t-shirt that’s confusing him. “Whatever do you mean, Gandalf?”

Silas harrumphs. “I don’t wear flip flops.”

“That’s Gandhi , Einstein.”

Another displeased noise, and then weathered blue eyes finally register the person watching our exchange with tentative, surprised amusement. “Your ma rise from the dead or something?”

Both Lux and I choke, though I don’t think her breath gets caught on laughter like mine does. “This is my sister . Lux. Lux, this is Grand—I mean, Silas.”

The old man kisses his teeth at me, then at my sister. “You the one who called me last night?”

My eyes go wide as they bounce to Lux. “You called him?”

Looking torn between apologetic and defiant, she nods. “I was hoping you’d called him.”

I should’ve. God, I wish I did. “How’d you get his number?”

Her expression turns dry. “Your passcode is your birthday.”

My passcode is Grace’s birthday, but point taken.

Rolling my bottom lip between my teeth, I warily eye Silas.

Obviously, he knows. Even if Lux didn’t explicitly say why she was looking for me, it would’ve been an easy thing to piece together.

I search his wrinkled face for the disappointment he surely feels.

For anger, maybe. How’s a sponsor supposed to react when their charge fails? Yell? Reprimand sternly?

Hand you a cookie, apparently. A good cookie. The least crumbly, dry one in the pile.

“Whatcha gawking at, girl?” Silas snaps, but there’s no anger behind it—just that typical, curmudgeonly irritation I’ve come to associate with him.“Ain’t nothing I can say to you that you haven’t already thought or heard. Pick yourself up and get on with it.”

Lux guffaws. I make a similar noise. A much more watery one that matches a stuttered, “Well. If Grandpa says so.”

Grandpa says, “Fuck off, devil child.”

And then, Grandpa leads me and Lux to the circle of chairs in the middle of the room, politely pulling out one for her while trying to upend the one I flop onto.

Erica starts the meeting before I can return the favor. Like she always does, she asks who wants to kick us off.

Like I never do, I lift my hand.

A dozen or so shocked gazes land on me. I find Lux’s, drawing strength from it, before clearing my throat.

“Hi. I’m Lottie. And, uh…” I suck in all the breath my lungs can hold. I lift my gaze from my ruined nails. And I say the words I don’t think I’ve ever said aloud, “And I’m an alcoholic.”

I stay longer than I usually would.

I talk to other people, for once—I talk to Erica.

I go to the diner across the street with her and Lux and Silas, and the whole ordeal doesn’t feel like much of one. It feels okay, actually. It feels nice.

My cold, quiet room does not.

I don’t bother turning on the lights. Blindly, I shuffle towards my bed, frowning as I pull back sheets that smell suspiciously fresh, but I don’t question it too much.

I just fall beneath them. Practically passing out the second my head hits the pillow, I sleepily reach for another, dragging it against my chest in a quest for soft comfort only to get fucking stabbed instead.

Squinting into the darkness, I fumble for my inanimate attacker, frowning at the unfamiliar, solid shape. I prop myself up and reach for the lamp on my bedside table.

A quiet, warbled noise rips from my lungs when light floods my room.

Because in my hand is the little, wooden horse that looks like Ruin.

With a single strike carved onto the bottom.