Page 12 of Faultlines

Ellie folds her arms. “It’s always work.”

Lucy and Sloane exchange a weighted glance.

“It started with the drama program,” I say, the words tumbling out. “They need volunteers, but Juniper House might not even make payroll, and I haven’t really slept in a week, and—” I stop, pressing my palms to my eyes. “My brain just feels full of static.”

Sloane leans on the island. “Maybe you should see your doctor.”

I sigh. “Sloane⁠—”

“What? I’m serious.” Everyone stares at her. “Don’t look at me like that. I have serious thoughts occasionally. If you don’t want to see your doctor, Lucy can ask Saint Finn of Fertility for a recommendation.”

Before anyone can respond, Sloane stands. “Okay. I gotta go. I’ll see everyone tonight?”

We all look at her.

“Tonight?” Ethan asks.

“Family dinner, duh.”

Lucy smiles. “Oh yes, at the ranch.”

“Do I get a vote?” Ethan asks.

“No!” we all say simultaneously, and he raises both hands in surrender.

By late afternoon, we’re at Lucy and Jensen’s ranch. Music and the scent of food from the grill fill the air.

I stand by Jensen, who is manning the grill. “Thanks,” he says, as I hand him a bowl. “How’s it going saving today’s misguided youth?”

“It’s going. It’s not a trauma department though. You literally save people.”

He points his beer toward the grill. “Right now, I’m just saving dinner.”

“Much more useful,” I reply as Lucy appears beside me.“Who else is coming? I think we’re almost ready.”

Jensen glances toward the driveway. “My old friend from nursing school,” he says.

“The mysterious nursing school bestie I’ve never met,” Lucy muses.

“You have friends outside of us?” Sloane winks at Jensen.

“I have lots of friends, smart ass.”

Before Jensen can retort, a red sports car speeds down the long gravel drive, kicking up a cloud of dust behind it. The car slows near the barn, and Lucy straightens.

“Is that her?” Ethan asks.

“Should be,” Jensen replies.

The driver’s door opens and a woman emerges holding a pie. She’s tall, with bright red hair and a yellow romper that looks like it belongs in the city, not at a ranch. Her wedge sandals immediately sink into the grass, and I can’t help but wonder if Jensen forgot to mention where he lives.

“Jens!” she exclaims.

“Jens?” Sloane mouths to me with a questioning expression.

He grins, a genuine smile reserved for old friends. “About time,” he says, walking over to her. “Glad you could make it, Vivi.” They share a brief embrace, packed with years of history.

Lucy elbows me. “She brought pie,” she says out of the side of her mouth.