The name rings a bell.
“Lacey ... ,” Sal murmurs, recalling the brief rundown of characters Luke mentioned back at the hospital. That she had a baby sister, six years younger, who lived in Los Angeles. “You’re my—”
“Sister,” Lacey finishes. Her hands come up to cradle Sal’s face. Lacey’s eyes leak, thin lines of mascara running down her cheeks. “I can’t believe it, I just can’t believe it. Let me look at you ...”
She squeezes Sal’s arm tight, as if preparing to give her a twirl on the barstool.
“Hey,” Luke says gruffly. He’s leaning in the doorway, hands in his pockets, looking pissed as hell. “She just got home. Can you maybe not go full-throttle banshee on her?”
Lacey draws back. Sal has to smile at the dramatic way she presses a hand to her heart. “She is my sister, Luke. And you’re trying to keep me from her. You’re trying to—”
“Tryin’ to keep Sal sane?” Seth pushes off the counter with his palms. “Yeah, that’s what we’re tryin’ to do.”
Lacey scoffs.
Luke floats Sal an apologetic smile.
“I didn’t want it to be too much for everyone to be here at once. I thought in a week she could fly down after you acclimated, but ...” He breaks off, rolling his neck around on his shoulders as if to release irritation. He breathes deep, exhales. “Lacey does things her own way.”
A snort comes from Seth.
Laughing, Sal untangles herself from Lacey. “It’s okay,” she reassures him.
She thinks it’s funny how Luke and everyone else have kept a respectful distance, not touching her, careful to give her space, while Lacey is all over her with the enthusiastic eagerness of a puppy. Sal guesses that’s the way of sisters. Maybe. She can’t remember.
She turns her gaze to Lacey. Arches a brow. “We’re close, I take it.”
Lacey’s lower lip quivers. “You really can’t remember?”
“What? You thought we made it up?”
Crossing the kitchen, Luke takes a sip of coffee, scowls at its coldness, and dumps it in the sink. Although, the bitter grimace on his face makes Sal think it doesn’t have anything to do with the coffee.
Sal feels the kitchen tense. There’s a dizzying push-pull to the conversation that she can’t quite place.
Sliding forward off the chair, she swivels her head around the kitchen and frowns. “Is everything okay?”
Luke’s expression softens. Every line in his face smooths out as his dark eyes slide her way. Intent. Laser-focused. A blush creeps over Sal’s cheeks. She’s getting that a lot. And she likes it.
“Everything’s fine, darlin’.”
His voice—husky, hoarse.
“We’re fine. We’re fine. We’re all fine,” Lacey singsongs, smoothing out Sal’s hair. “What’re you doing today?”
Sal’s eyes brush to Luke’s, hopeful of their plans. She wants more of this morning. Long talks, learning more about her life, listening to Luke’s lazy twang.
But without waiting for an answer, Lacey claps her hands together, dashing any hopes of a day spent with Luke.
“I’m taking you out.”
Luke’s shaking his head. Vehemently. “It’s her first day home. You ain’t—”
Lacey cuts Luke off with a raised hand. “I am. I am taking my sister shopping. We’re going to catch up, reconnect. Sister stuff.”
“Sister stuff? Is that like pillow fights and bedtime stories?” Sal jokes, attempting to lighten the mood that’s darkened the kitchen.
Lacey stares at her and says, deadpan, “Oh, good. You’re still funny.”