the spade brothers' little sister

fourteen

♤ ♤ ♤

"Get up, babes," Jace spoke, walking into the room we shared.

I groaned and rolled over. "But I'm still tired." I never will understand how he can get up so early and not trudge around everywhere. He was always up and ready to go at ungodly hours in the morning. Even though Larson had to get up early for his construction job when we were home, he never enjoyed having to wake up before the sun. But for some reason, Jace seemed to love it.

"Come on, B," Jace spoke, lightly shaking my shoulders. "I have to get on a work call and this is the quietest place in the house."

I sat up reluctantly. "When can we go back home?"

He sighed. "Me and Lars are working things out. Hopefully soon. I want to go home too," he spoke sympathetically.

"I like our real house better than this one," I replied.

"Hey!" he spoke back, his eyes wide. "Is that because you don't like sharing a room with me?!"

I giggled. He knew that I loved sharing a room with him. It made me feel safe. Especially because I knew that someone was looking for Larson and therefore all of us. Being beside Jace all the time made me feel safe.

"I'm only joking, B," he replied, ruffling my hair. "But really. Go."

I sighed and stood up, grabbing a book that I had brought from home to keep me entertained while I was kicked out from my room.

"Go eat something for breakfast, okay? I think we have frozen waffles," Jace suggested. He sat on the edge of his bed and opened his work laptop, typing in his password to get into his email.

"Okay," I spoke, trudging out of the room.

"Love you!" Jace called out behind me as I left and headed into the kitchen.

When I walked into the kitchen, Larson was standing at the kitchen counter buttering a piece of toast. He glanced up to look at me and didn't acknowledge that I was standing right there in front of him. I looked down to my feet and walked over to the fridge, looking for something to eat.

Behind me, I heard Larson toss his used butter knife into the sink. He grabbed his plate off the counter and walked down the hallway into Brady and Charlie's bedroom. I sighed, realizing that things were now so awkward between the two of us. I didn't mean for him to hear what I said last night; I said those things just to Charlie.

As if on cue, Charlie walked into the kitchen as I pulled some eggs out of the refrigerator. "Hey B," he spoke, smiling at me. "You feeling better this morning?"

I nodded. "Yeah, thanks for being there for me last night, Charlie."

"Always am, babe," he replied, pulling the carton of eggs out of my hands. "I'm gonna make an omelet. Want one?"

I nodded enthusiastically, excited for one of Charlie's world famous omelets. He told me he had gotten some ingredients for omelets when he and Brady had gone food shopping the night before.

Charlie whipped out a frying pan that I didn't even know we had brought from our house and cracked a few eggs in the pan.

I watched him cook, stupidly amazed at how he could transform a few ingredients into a breakfast that looked like it was bought at a fancy restaurant. But that's who Charlie was - someone who could easily impress everyone around him.

We sat at the kitchen table eating our omelets until we were done. I didn't finish my omelet because I wasn't super hungry, so Brady came into the kitchen behind me and ate the rest of it off my plate.