Page 87 of Zero Divergence

Three days was a long time for them to find trouble.

“Uncle Sawyer is here!” his niece Cassidy yelled as soon as he entered his parents’ home. Uncle was one of his most cherished titles, and the kids barreling toward him were four of his most beloved humans.

Kennedy, at eight years old, and her brother Tyler, age six, did their best to keep up with the bigger kids: Cassidy, the oldest of the brood at twelve, and Tarron, her ten-year-old brother. He shouldn’t have a favorite niece or nephew, and he would never speak the truth out loud, but he had a closer bond with Cassidy. She reminded Sawyer so much of himself at her age—book smart, not too keen on physical activity, and carrying extra weight that crippled a preteen’s confidence. They often chatted about books and documentaries like two adult friends meeting up for coffee.

Cassidy reached him first, hitting Sawyer hard enough to knock him back a few steps. She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and clung to him. “I’ve missed you so much. I hated that we weren’t allowed to see you when you were recovering.”

Sawyer hated hearing the tears in her voice and hated it more that he was the reason for her distress. “I missed you too, Cass,” he said, hugging her tightly.

“That’s the fastest I’ve seen you run in your entire life, Cass,” Tarron teased when he arrived next. There was no censure or cruelty in his voice, he was just a kid making an observation, but Cass looked crestfallen.

“I can’t run faster than your mouth though,” Cass retorted.

Kennedy and Tyler arrived a few steps behind the other two, and Sawyer opened his arms to pull them all into a group hug.

“You don’t look crispy,” Tyler said, but with his slight lisp, it sounded like cwispy.

“Tyler,” Cassidy admonished.

Sawyer laughed, knowing full well who’d told the kids he looked crispy. “Did your father call me a crispy critter, Ty?”

“No,” Killian said, walking toward them, wearing a smug expression on his face. “I said you looked like a burnt marshmallow.”

“I had bad dweams,” Tyler said.

“Way to go, jack—” Sawyer remembered his audience at the last minute.

“Jackass isn’t a bad word,” Cassidy said. “It’s an animal.”

Tyler pulled back from the group hug, then looked at his father. “Jackass!” he yelled, then skipped deeper into the house where Sawyer presumed the rest of the family was.

“Jackass!” Tarron and Kennedy repeated as they followed behind Tyler.

Killian frowned at Cassidy. “Really, Cass?”

“Sorry, Uncle K. Technically, it’s not a bad word, but I guess you don’t want them screaming it at the grocery store.”

Killian chuckled. “I’m more worried about school on Monday, but I wasn’t referring to their new favorite word.”

“What, then?” she asked earnestly.

Killian slipped an arm around her shoulder. “Maybe not make it so obvious Sawyer is your favorite uncle, okay? Throw me a bone once in a while.”

Cassidy tipped her head to the side and thought about it for a second. “Nah.” She gave Sawyer one more tight squeeze before following after her brother and cousins at a more leisurely pace.

“That’s my girl,” Sawyer told Killian. Then he pulled his brother into a headlock and rubbed his knuckles over his hair.

“Easy,” Killian said, throwing elbows to break the hold. “Or, I’ll return the favor.” Killian stiffened and looked at him with mock horror. “Oh, wait. You don’t have enough hair to mess up.”

“I’m still way better looking than you,” Sawyer countered.

They horsed around until they heard their mother clearing her throat. “Really? Which one of you taught the younger kids to yell jackass at the top of their lungs?” She looked good and pissed.

Killian and Sawyer looked at one another before facing their mother. “Cassidy,” they said, knowing Evangeline’s firstborn grandchild stood a better chance at forgiveness than they did.

Cassidy, who’d returned to the scene of her crime, gasped and covered her heart with both hands.

“Cowards,” Evangeline said, rolling her eyes. “Where’s Royce?”