Page 38 of Faultlines

“Do they only move in packs now?” Lucy shouts from the front porch.

“Pretty much,” I snort.

“When did that happen? I feel like it was just yesterday that she ran to me first.”

“It started about five minutes after she realized we aren’t cool anymore.”

“I’ve never stopped being cool,” Sloane calls out, walking in the direction of the barn.

“Hey, don’t teach Mona any naughty habits,” Lucy yells after her.

“That’s a lot of pressure,” she replies.

“Last time Sloane took Ellie to the movies, she came back with a purse full of contraband snacks. You’re a bad influence,” Jensen says, coming up behind Lucy and kissing the top of her head.

“All part of survival training. I have so much to teach her. That was just the beginning,” Sloane says, then slips into the barn.

By the afternoon, Mona has become absorbed into the family chaos, sitting between Ellie and Sloane, looking both amused and overwhelmed by the sheer volume of personalities surrounding her. I try to focus on something other than thoughts of Ethan’s unanswered text messages. The weight of my phone in my pocket is a subtle, irritating presence.

I try to concentrate as the girls discuss rehearsal, speaking with great speed and enthusiasm that I’m struggling to keep up. Every few minutes, one of them dissolves into laughter over some inside joke that makes no sense to anyone else.

“How is it possible that they’re old enough to have their own language now?” I ask, watching them.

Lucy follows my gaze and smiles. “The same way we used to.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s no different.”

“It feels different.”

“That’s because you’re old now.”

Across the table, Sloane gasps. “Lucy, you can’t just attack people during lunch.”

“You told me last week during lunch that my metabolism has officially retired,” she replies.

“That was a medical observation and not an attack.”

“It was an attack.”

“It was not.”

Jensen doesn’t even look up from his plate, his fork scraping against ceramic. “For the record, I agree with Lucy.”

Sloane narrows her eyes at him. “That doesn’t count. You’re contractually obligated to agree with her.”

After we eat, Lucy insists everyone saddle up for a trail ride, and before long we’re winding our way through the rolling hills that border the property. Golden grass sways in the warm breeze, and rows of vineyards stretch across the distant valley below.

Ellie rides ahead with Mona, their argument carrying back to me in fragments—something about whether Mona’s horse is plotting a rebellion or just has a bellyache.

Lucy and Jensen follow behind me, while Sloane is managing three separate conversations riding one-handed, drifts between all of us.

When we get home, I’m disappointed to find Ethan already asleep. The next day he disappears into his study, and the closed door sends a clear message.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ROCKFALL