Page 1 of The Brothers Hawthorne

TWELVE AND A HALF YEARS AGO

Grayson and Jameson Hawthorne knew the rules. You couldn’t get around rules if you didn’t know them.On Christmas morning, you may not step foot outside your rooms before the clock strikes seven.

Beneath his blanket, Jameson lifted a military-grade walkie-talkie to his mouth. “You set the clocks forward?” He was seven to his brother’s eight—both plenty old enough to spot a loophole.

That was the trick. The challenge. The game.

“I did,” Grayson confirmed.

Jameson paused. “What if the old man set them back after we went to bed?”

“Then we’ll have to go to Plan B.”

Hawthornesalwayshad a Plan B. But this time, it proved unnecessary. Hawthorne House had five grandfather clocks, and they all struck seven at the exact same time: 6:25.

Success!Jameson flung down his walkie-talkie, threw back the covers, and took off—out the door, down the hall, two lefts, a right, across the landing to the grand staircase. Jamesonflew. But Grayson was a year older, a year taller—and he’d already made it from his wing halfway down the stairs.

Taking the steps two at a time, Jameson made it seventy percent of the way down, then launched himself over the banister. He hurtled toward the ground floor and landed on top of Grayson. They both went down, a mess of limbs and Christmas morning madness, then scrambled to their feet and raced neck and neck, arriving at the Great Room doors at the exact same time—only to find their five-year-old brother had beaten them there.

Xander was curled up on the floor like a puppy. Yawning, he opened his eyes and blinked up at them. “Is it Christmas?”

“What are you doing, Xan?” Grayson frowned. “Did you sleep down here? The rules say…”

“Can’t step a foot,” Xander replied, sitting up. “I didn’t. Irolled.” At his brothers’ unblinking stares, Xander demonstrated.

“You log-rolled all the way from your bedroom?” Jameson was impressed.

“No stepping.” Xander grinned. “I win!”

“Kid’s got us there.” Fourteen-year-old Nash sauntered over to join them and hoisted Xander up on his shoulders. “Ready?”

The fifteen-foot-tall doors to the Great Room were closed only once a year, from midnight on Christmas Eve until the boys descended on Christmas morning. Staring at the gold rings on the door, Jameson imagined the marvels that lay on the other side.

Christmas at Hawthorne House wasmagic.

“You get that door, Nash,” Grayson ordered. “Jamie, help me with this one.”

Grinning, Jameson locked his fingers around the ring, next to Grayson’s. “One, two, three… pull!”

The majestic doors parted, revealing…nothing.

“It’s gone.” Grayson went unnaturally still.

“What is?” Xander asked, craning his neck to see.

“Christmas,” Jameson whispered. No stockings. No presents. No marvels or surprises. Even the decorations were gone, all except the tree, and even that had been stripped of ornaments.

Grayson swallowed. “Maybe the old man didn’t want us to break the rules this time.”

That was the thing about games: Sometimes you lost.

“No Christmas?” Xander’s voice quivered. “But Irolled.”

Nash set Xander down. “I’ll fix this,” he swore in a low tone. “I promise.”

“No.” Jameson shook his head, his chest and eyes burning. “We’re missing something.” He forced himself to take in every detail of the room. “There!” he said, pointing to a spot near the top of the tree where a single ornament hung, hidden among the branches.

That wasn’t a coincidence. There were no coincidences in Hawthorne House.