Rayston Point Road || Editing

Chapter Two

As I slammed the back door of my car, excessive force being the only way to close it all the way, the huge front door of the house I had pulled up to swung open and my sister emerged, two toddlers attached at her hips. Although six years older, Leighton and I, along with our twenty-two year old twin sisters, were nearly identical, except the long brown hair and bangs that I sported were replaced with a short crop that just grazed Leighton's shoulders, and the subtlest of facial features distinguished us from each other and our perfectly identical sisters. The twin boys that Leighton cradled in her arms had inherited both the Lancaster light-brown hair as well as sea-green eyes I, my three sisters, and my father all sported, but the rest of their features, from fuller lips to curly hair, mirrored their father's. All three of them had tired eyes but wide grins on their faces as I crossed the front lawn and climbed the three steps up to the porch.

"Hey, baby!" Leighton smiled, greeting me with the nickname I had earned from being the baby of the family, something all three of my sisters called me. "I'm so sorry I didn't call you back. How'd you find us?" I did my best to reach around the boys to hug my sister, before I adjusted my two duffle bags on my shoulders and reached for one of the twins, taking Elliot in my arms, kissing his cheek and swaying slightly while he was against my side.

"I had pulled over when you called, and..." I paused as Elliot leaned his full cheek against the crook of my neck, closing his eyes as his twin, Ethan, did the same against Leighton's cheek. The tantrum they had been having while we were on the phone seems to have worn them out. "Do you want to go inside and put them down first?" A small part of me was admittedly asking so that I could escape the brutal heat, not being helped by the warm and sticky cheek laying against my collar, but I also knew that this was the time of day Leighton always put the boys down, and she would panic if their routine was interrupted.

I watched as an expression of relief flashing across Leighton's face before she turned, opening the heavy front door again and motioning with her head for me to go inside. I stepped inside the foyer of Leighton's home, dropping my bags from my shoulder onto the floor before heading straight down the hallway past the wide set of stairs and into the kitchen that sat at the back center of the house, per Leighton's instructions as she followed me. I veered right in the kitchen, into the small family room where a portable crib was set up, and lowered Elliot onto the soft material. Leighton was close behind me, settling Ethan next to his brother before she stood, sighed heavily, and then wrapped her arms around me in a proper hug.

My first thought was that it was a combination of maternal instinct and happiness and being together again, as the last time we had seen each other was six months ago when my mother chartered a private plan to bring Leighton, Dan, and the then five-month-old twins up for the holidays, but as Leighton started to speak, her chin moving against my shoulder, I realized there was more to her embrace.

"Mom called me this morning," she said quietly, and my jaw immediately tensed as I backed out of her grip.

"I don't want to talk about it, Leigh," I sighed over my shoulder, turning away from her and the boys and back into the kitchen, desperate for a glass of water, thankful that I had visited her once before so I had no need to ask where anything was.

"You can't run from her, Loren, or from me." Leighton's voice had always had an undertone of firmness, for as long as I could remember, in part because she was the oldest, in part because our father had left when I was only eight, Leighton only fourteen, and she had stepped up as an additional parental figure when our mother fell short, as she frequently did, and when the dozens of maids, butlers, and caretakers that revolved through our penthouse apartment weren't enough.

"I'm not running," I replied defensively, knowing in the back of mind that it was useless. Having Leighton practically raise me for the four years we had together before she left for college meant that she knew me well, too well, and was excellent at calling my bullshit. Point proven by the way she heavily rolled her eyes at my words.