Jace groaned, retrieving a small, rusted pocketknife from his back pocket—a relic he’d found in one of the house’s many vacant rooms. He stretched his hand across the marble countertop of the kitchen island, starting to stab the knife down between his splayed fingers. He jabbed the knife as a distraction from the three bothersome girls he was stuck with.

Ever since Aggie banished them to the kitchen, Acacia spent the time whining on her phone to her boyfriend while Harper entertained the tiny, fluttery brat with a ‘dolly tea party.’ Jace felt winded just from listening to the child’s relentless, energetic chatter. It was all he could do to not to barf from all the girliness infecting his brain. At least once the Zinnia left, Harper moved on to cleaning… again. The girl had a serious issue with neatness.

A smirk tugged at Jace’s lips as he watched Harper flinch with every thud of the knife against the granite countertop.

From the table, Acacia groaned into her phone, “This place sucks.” She glanced at Jace, still stabbing the knife between his fingers, then at Harper, busy sorting the spice cabinet, and sighed. “The other kids here are total wack jobs... I miss you more.”

“Wait, so you mean you miss your boo-boo bear?” Jace taunted, satisfaction bubbling up as a scowl darkened Acacia's face and she flipped him off. If he had to listen to her whine about missing her boyfriend one more time, he'd gladly jam the switchblade into his own eardrums for relief.

“Can you please stop that?” Harper asked, her voice strained.

“What?” Jace asked, quickening the pace of the knife’s jabs between his fingers once noting Harper’s twitching eye and fixed gaze on the blade.

“You could hurt yourself,” Harper said, trying to focus on alphabetizing the herbs, though her shoulders tensed with every slam of the knife on the counter.

“Didn’t know you cared so much, Little Red,” Jace replied, sarcasm soaking his words.

“I don’t, but you could cut yourself, and blood is messy,” Harper replied, restraining herself from digging her nails into her palms as the stabbing persisted. “"We’d need to use bleach to clean it properly, and even then, bleach is only 99 percent effective at disinfecting, but I guess we could—"

“Shut up!” Jace yelled, lifting his hands in surrender after he slid the knife back into his pocket. He smacked the countertop with his hands as he stood to pull a bottle of orange juice from the fridge. "And here I thought the baby had already left the room."

Jace flicked the cap across the island, deliberately placing it within Harper's line of sight. He strolled over to the table and plopped down beside Acacia, snickering as Harper scurried to retrieve the cap. He then turned his attention to Acacia, who promptly pivoted her body away from him.

“Oh, Edward, I simply can’t bear spending another moment apart from your eternal presence,” Jace whined, mimicking a high-pitched girl’s voice. “Everything means nothing without you.”

“Hey, Pigpen, I get you’re new to having…” Acacia scanned him from head to toe. “Anything. But those of us from actual homes understand this concept called personal space. Might wanna give it a try.”

Jace scratched his head, took a long swig of orange juice, then leaned in closer to Acacia and let out a loud belch. “Personal space? What bees that, Ms. Cacia?”

“Mickey, I’ll call you back,” Acacia gagged, shoving Jace so hard he nearly fell to the floor. “Are you completely deranged or just mentally damaged or something?”

“He’s insufferable!” Harper exclaimed, quickly covering her mouth and tracing a cross over herself.

“Church mouse’s right, but I’d raise her a fucking psychotic,” Acacia hissed while Jace cackled in amusement.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Mommy says people shouldn’t use bad words when they’re upset ‘cause they’ll regret it later," Zinny chimed in from the doorway leading to the dining room.

“Great! Baby’s back,” Jace said, his face souring.

“I’m not a baby!” Zinny protested.

“I thought you left with your mom,” Harper said in a soft tone as Zinny approached the table and began playing with her doll.

“I did, but then she told me to go to my aunt, and the old lady told me to come back in here,” Zinny huffed, glancing up from her toy. “She also said you guys hafta stay in here ‘cause they’re still having grown-up talks.”

Acacia and Jace let out weary groans, dismayed at being trapped together and with the loquacious little girl. They didn’t understand why they had to be stuck in the kitchen, of all places, in this gigantic house.

“Awesome,” Acacia muttered.

Zinnia eyed the other kids and set down her doll. “Hey,” she said, tilting her head to the side.

“Yes?” Harper responded, offering a soft smile, noting how deep in thought Zinnia seemed.

“What’s a prostitute?”

Harper blushed; Jace choked on the last of his juice, and Acacia stifled a laugh.

“Where did you hear that word?” Harper asked, sending an accusatory glare toward Jace.

“My mommy said my aunt was one…. I think.”

Jace burst into laughter, hurling the empty bottle onto the floor. Harper hurried to pick it up and dispose of it before it could roll too far.

“A prostitute’s probably what Bambi here’s gonna be once she cracks her virgin Mary façade,” Jace said with a smirk.

“Jace!” Harper exclaimed, turning to Zinny. “It’s a grown-up word you should never ever, ever, ever repeat…. Ever.”

“Like ‘crap’?”

“Your dolly’s hair is so pretty. Did you style it?” Harper asked, shifting the conversation. Zinny nodded proudly, and Harper pulled up a chair beside her and began playing with her.

Jace let out a derisive snort as Harper complimented the doll’s dress.

“Whatever. I’m done,” he scoffed, staring at Zinny with disdain. “I’m no baby watcher.”

“It’s ‘sitter,’ idiot,” Acacia corrected.

“I’d gladly sit on it,” Jace said, a sinister grin tugging at the corners of his lips. Zinny shrank back from him as Harper bared her teeth at him.

“He’s just joking,” Harper assured Zinny, though her tone remained icy.

“Maybe,” Acacia shrugged.

“Screw it,” Jace declared, striding towards the dining room door.

“They said to stay here,” Harper reminded him.

“Yeah, well, in my experience, the only reason adults hide conversations from kids for one of two things: they’re either talking about the kids, or they’re actually saying something interesting for once in their lives.”

Acacia arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Really? Those are the only two reasons you think a person would want privacy?”

“Either way, it beats staying here,” Jace remarked before disappearing through the door.

Acacia’s brows furrowed as she considered following Jace, but the thought of enduring more of his failed attempts at being clever kept her glued to her seat. She watched the door swing back and forth until it finally settled closed. She then decided to call Mickey instead and finish their conversation in peace, but her face dropped as a busy tone shattered her hopes. A grimace crossed her face as she watched Harper and Zinny absorbed in their play.

“So… what are you into?” Acacia asked Harper, feeling just as awkward asking the question as Harper looked hearing it.

“I like studying. Mathematics mostly. I know it’s summer, but you can never put brackets on learning,” Harper giggled, though Acacia wasn’t entirely sure why. “I also read the Bible a lot. My favorite scripture is Luke 15—”

“For fucks sake,” Acacia sighed, her patience depleted. She made a beeline for the dining room door, eager to escape the overly wholesome conversation.

Petunia stormed into the living room, her mind a chaotic whirlwind as she struggled to sort her emotions so she could articulate them clearly. She was determined to stay composed and intended to pull Aggie aside for a private conversation. However, the moment she saw her, Petunia’s simmering anger erupted like a volcano.

“Why does Gene think that Acacia girl is related to us?” she demanded, her purse crashing down onto a side table. Her eyebrows knitted together, and her cheeks flushed with the heat of her emotions.

“Gene? Like your Gene?” Briar questioned, her face twisted in confusion at her sister’s sudden outburst.

“He’s not my Gene, but yes,” Petunia said curtly, her gaze glued to Aggie.

Briar-Rose didn’t know what was going on. She had never seen Petunia this upset before. Perhaps seeing Gene caught her off guard. "Why was he here?" she asked, her eyes darting between Petunia's livid expression and Aggie's serene demeanor.

“He was here to question Acacia Everthorne about her parents' deaths,” Petunia disclosed, eyes scanning Aggie for any trace of shock or confusion. But Aggie merely took a calm sip of her tea, unfazed.

“Everthorne!” Briar gasped, her voice escalating to a high-pitched squeak.

Ignoring Briar, Petunia continued, urgency saturating her voice. "For once in your life, Aggie, be completely upfront with us. What aren't you telling us?"