My lip twitched in an almost-smile as I watched her get out of her beat-up Toyota Corolla. Her blond hair was in a ponytail and she wore a loose t-shirt and cut-offs, a pair of flip-flops on her feet. She paused outside her car, her hands on the open door, and looked around, like she was taking it all in.
Our houses sat at the end of a private drive, the narrow road bumpy with potholes. Her mom’s house was newer than ours, but you wouldn’t know by looking at it. The front porch was a patchwork of reclaimed wood my brothers and I had used to shore it up, and the whole thing needed a fresh coat of paint. The yard was tidy, mostly because Gram treated it like an extension of her gardens. Flowers bloomed in window boxes, and my brothers and I took care of mowing the lawn. But the whole place still looked tired and worn.
What was Grace thinking out there? Was she glad to be home? Or was she wishing she’d stayed in Pullman, where she was going to college? Maybe wishing she’d kept her job there over the summer so she wouldn’t have to come back. So she could still see her boyfriend.
The hint of a smile on my lips melted into a scowl. Grace was dating some shithead at school. Actually, I had no idea if he was a shithead. She’d never brought him home, so I hadn’t met him.
My eyes darted to the passenger seat of her car, an awful thought hitting me like a truck. Had she brought him with her?
My grip on the window trim tightened. The thought of spending the summer watching Grace with her college boyfriend made me want to put my fist through the glass.
Not that I had any right to be angry that she was dating someone.
Grace Miles was the literal girl next door. Sweet, pretty, and smart, with a stubborn streak that was as unshakable as the mountains we lived in. We’d grown up together. It hadn’t been that long ago that the land surrounding our two houses had been our entire world. We’d been friends for most of our lives, but we’d never dated. And we certainly weren’t dating now.
I released my grip on the window frame. Her passenger seat was empty. No boyfriend, shithead or otherwise.
Truthfully, I didn’t want the guy to be a shithead. I wanted him to be great, because more than anything, I wanted Grace to be happy. She should have been dating a guy who was awesome—who treated her like a treasure. That was what she deserved.
“Stop licking the glass.”
I whipped around and shot a glare at Logan. The floors up here creaked, so either my brother had been trying to sneak up on me, or I’d been too distracted to hear him. Probably the latter.
“How about I kick your ass?”
He grinned at me, the cocky little shit. Not that he was little anymore. He was eighteen, and we’d been the same height for a couple of years. My brothers and I—there were five of us—had inherited our father’s stature. None of us were under six-two, even Gavin, who was only sixteen.
But I was the oldest, so I still had big brother power.
“I’ll take a raincheck on that. I’m going out tonight. Don’t want to mess this up.” Logan gestured to his face. “Although a black eye is a great way to meet girls. Maybe I should take you up on it.”
“You’re an idiot.”
He grinned again. “Maybe, but at least I’m not a stalker.”
I stepped away from the window. “I’m not stalking her.”
“Sure you’re not.”
Maybe I would give him a black eye. “Shut your face, asshole.”
“Boys! Language.” Gram’s voice carried upstairs.
Logan and I furrowed our brows. We could start up our grandad’s old truck, which had an engine so loud it rattled the windows, and she’d barely notice. But let us utter a single curse word above a whisper in Gram’s house and she’d scold us like we were still kids.
“Sorry, Gram,” I called down.
Logan wandered over to the window and glanced out. “Cool that she’s home, though.”
“Yeah.”
Even without my face practically touching the glass, I could see her. She’d popped the trunk and pulled out a big suitcase. Her little brother, Elijah, burst out of the house and barreled into her, throwing his arms around her. She leaned down and kissed the top of his head.
“Quit being weird, dude.” Logan said. “It’s Grace.”
“I know it’s Grace, and I’m not being weird.”
His forehead creased and he raised an eyebrow. “I can see that. Just like you’re not stalking her.”
Before he could react, I hooked an arm around his neck. I yanked him down, going for a headlock, but he twisted out of my grip and wrapped his arms around my waist. Driving with his legs, he pushed until my back crashed against the wall.
I got my feet under me and changed my grip on him. Lowering my center of gravity, I pivoted and flipped him over my shoulder. He landed hard on the bed, and his foot sent something on the bedside table crashing to the floor. I spun, getting chest to chest to maintain control. I’d wrestled in high school and now I took jiujitsu at an MMA gym in town, so my grappling skills were still sharp.
They had to be, in this family.
He grunted as I held him pinned down beneath my weight.
“Can you not break my stuff?”
A mirror image of Logan’s face glared at us from the doorway. His twin, Levi, stood with his arms crossed. They looked a lot like me, but their features were more angular than mine, their cheekbones sharper. Even though they had identical DNA, I’d never had a problem telling them apart. Levi was so serious, whereas Logan always looked like he was up to something.
“Sorry.” I stood and helped Logan up. This was the bedroom they shared, and I’d just body-slammed Logan onto Levi’s bed.
Levi grunted and moved past me to pick up the lamp we’d knocked over. At least it didn’t look like it was broken.
“Grace is home,” Logan said.
“Yeah.” Levi replied without looking at his brother.
“She needs a proper welcome. We should go give her a five-moon salute.” Logan smirked and mimicked pulling his pants down to show his ass.
“Why would we do that?”
“Because it would be funny.”
I shoved Logan. “Leave her alone.”
“You two are boring as fuck,” he said under his breath, then paused, as if waiting to see if Gram had heard him. The scolding didn’t come, and he grinned. “Gavin’ll do it with me.”
I was about to tackle Logan again—or maybe Levi, just because—when the smell of strawberries wafted upstairs from the kitchen.
We all froze, sniffing the air, our eyes widening.
“Is Gram baking?” I asked.
Logan nodded. “Smells like—”
“Strawberry rhubarb,” Levi finished.
I moved toward the door, but Logan knocked into me with his shoulder. Levi pushed past us both and we all scrambled to get to the kitchen first.
Our feet thundered on the old wooden staircase. We shoved each other all the way down, as if we were a pack of rowdy kids, not three guys who were technically adults. The tantalizing scent grew. We burst into the kitchen just as Gram pulled a pie out of the oven and set it on a wire rack next to another. Despite the noise we’d just made rushing down here, she only spared us a quick glance over her shoulder.
Silver was replacing the black in Gram’s long hair. She wore it in a thick braid down her back, and had for as long as I could remember. Although she’d recently turned seventy, her dark skin was only just starting to show her age and her posture was still straight. Kind of surprising, considering she’d had to unexpectedly raise five unruly boys, years after having raised her own children.
She claimed it was the mountain air, copious amounts of bacon, and her Native American ancestry that kept her young. I tended to think she was simply too stubborn to let age have its way with her.
For over two decades, my grandmother had been known as Gram to everyone who knew her—related or not. But before she’d married my grandad, Frank Bailey, she’d been Emma Luscier, descendant of both the Chelan and Wenatchi tribes. Her ancestors had lived in the Cascade mountain range for countless generations.