Resolution.
Whatever it is, she’s smiling. Maybe I overreacted. Maybe nothing’s wrong.
Iz nods. “Yeah, dinner.” She lets out a deep breath. “Can you tell Jon and Aiden, too? Saves me searching for them.”
“Yeah, sure, I’ll get them there.” I step forward hesitantly and stop about six feet from the wall of girls. “Are you okay, Sissy? Everything okay?”
I want to fix this, but she’s drawn her battle lines. She looks to the left, to Kit, then to the right, to Tink. Taking their strength, she looks back and meets my gaze. “It’ll be fine. See you in bit.”
* * *
“We’re home.” I step in my front door and pull the keys from the lock. Jack moves around me with his arms loaded with pizza boxes, and drops his gym bag by the foot of the stairs.
With my heart in my throat, I follow him to the kitchen. The house is silent, but there are cars out front and shoes on the front porch, so no doubt the girls are in the kitchen standing behind their battle lines and preparing for our descent.
After they left the gym, Jack, Jim, and I packed up and showered, then because I’m an idiot, I called Jon to tell him to come for dinner.
Big mistake.
I told him I was worried about Iz, which didn’t result in a calm‘okay sure, I’ll come over.’It resulted in him blowing up and demanding answers I didn’t have. He didn’t take it well, and by the caliber of his blow-up, I’m surprised he’s not here right now.
I follow Jack into the kitchen and stop at the sight of the girls huddled at the far end of our table. Tink on the left, Kit on the right. Izzy in the middle being protected by her sentinels.
I’d smile at their formation if I wasn’t so worried.
They each sip at a mug of tea, and Iz’s fingers stroke the corner of a white envelope that sits on the table in front of them. Its plainness is unnerving, and the fact it has no writing on the front sends shivers down my spine. I have a terrible, terrible feeling that envelope’s going to change our world.
Kit watches me closely. Her blue eyes watch and wait for my blow-up, and her silence only has the oily ball in my stomach growing larger. She’s waiting for me to go berserk, so what does she know that I don’t? What does she know that’s going to upset me?
I smile in an attempt to let her know I’ve got my shit under control. I hate that she’s so tense, and sitting beside Iz, she’s stuck in the middle. She pledged her loyalty to me, yet she feels as though she needs to be on Iz’s side.
Jesus, they’re going to kill us. Whatever they’re here to talk about tonight, it’s going to kill us.
When she doesn’t run from the room screaming at my pathetic attempt for a smile, I walk through and drop a kiss on the top of her head. She’s on Iz’s side, but that doesn’t mean I have to stay away. I breathe in the scent of her coconut shampoo and gently squeeze her bad shoulder, then moving to Iz, I do the same. “I’m on your side, Sissy. Whatever it is, I promise not to go crazy.”
She holds her breath and nods.
Standing tall, I add a third sentinel to Iz’s guard detail, and I watch as Jon walks in with a dangerous scowl. His eyes zero in on his sister and his fists flex and close. His eyes skim over a nonchalant Tink, over a scared to her bones Iz, and stopping on me, his glare narrows.
I shake my head softly.Not right now, Jon. Give them space.
Pissed, scared, on the edge of an emotional breakdown, he rips the dining chair out at the opposite end and sits down heavily. Aiden walks in behind him and scans us the way Jon did. He stops on Iz, and just like everyone else, he feels the tension choking the room. With a curt nod, he silently steps back and crosses his arms. He won’t be sitting. He’s ready to jump and react when the shit goes down.
Izzy’s lean frame vibrates with nerves, and Kit scoots closer and takes her hand under the table. Jesus. I want to tell myself we’re overreacting. I want to think this is like the freak-out of eight years ago when Iz first got her period. But it’s not.
This is worse. Way worse.
As though we knew we were waiting for Jim, he walks through the door last and stops when his eyes meet Iz’s. Jim and Iz have been close their whole lives. Barely more than two years apart in age. When Jon was my best friend, Iz became Jim’s.
His gaze wheels around the room and stops on each set of eyes, and when no one starts, he goes back to Iz. “What’s going on?”
Like a gunshot in the night, Iz jumps at his snapped words. Finally lifting her head, she meets his glare with tears. Her shaking frame turns to silent sobs, and as the first tear spills over, the girls circle their wagons and huddle in close.
“Sissy?” Jon’s deep voice cracks with worry. “You need to talk to us, baby. I can’t fix it till I know.”
Dropping his anger and layering up with sickly worry, Jim steps forward. “Bubs? Say it. Say whatever you’ve gotta say.” Walking past Aiden, past Jon, around the table and cutting through the girls like a warm knife through butter, he untangles the girls and takes Izzy in his arms. At the first contact, she buries her face in his chest and howls like nothing I’ve ever seen her do before.
This is bad. Really, really bad.