Page 34 of Beautiful Chaos
And hell.
Great. Now I hafta kill someone else.
9
OAKLEY
“How’dyour first month in Wimberley go?” my sister asks as I exit the elevator onto rooftop lit by the late-afternoon sun.
Amelia’s video calling from her artsy tiny space in San Miguel de Allende, her hair in a long braid over her shoulder, dotted with tiny flowers.
She’s a couple of years older than me and has never quite thought of herself as a Wildling. When I realized the news articles never mentioned her, I asked her if she felt left out. She snort-laughed.
“By the time you dweebs made the news, I had my own car and my own friends. We got away with our shenanigans without alerting the fucking press.”
Amelia still calls us dweebs, but she says it with a lot more affection now. I know she’s proud of the work the Wildlings have done, and I’m equally proud of her.
Amelia’s contribution to the giving clause is funding the arts in after-school programs in underserved areas. Additionally, she chairs the board of the Ashford Scholarship for the Arts, whichannually awards twenty college-bound teens with extraordinary artistic talent.
A few years ago, she moved to Mexico to pursue her art and learn more about her birth mother’s culture. I miss her like crazy sometimes.
Don’t tell her I said that.
“Sorry, Melia,” I answer with a smile. “I could tell ya all about Wimberley, but then I’d hafta kill ya.”
Thankfully, the dads decided to bring in the rest of the Wildlings-adjacent crew. Amelia knows she was given a gently sanitized version of what we do, but I’m glad I don’t have to lie to her.
Mostly because she’s scarily good at ferreting out anything I try to keep hidden. Even though we don’t look anything alike—she’s adopted, at least a foot and a half shorter than me, and Latina, while I can barely manage a tan and am very clearly Thane Ashford’s son—you’d have a hard time finding a closer pair of siblings.
“Okay, fine. What do you have going on tonight?” She leans in. “Are you hanging by the pool? During business hours on a Friday?”
“Yes,nosey. We leave early on Fridays and meet here for beers and pool time.” I snort.
She laughs. “Sounds nice.”
“Which reminds me…”
I take her with me as I beeline for the outdoor fridge and grab a Modelo. I pop the top and take a deep drink.
“Oh, excellent idea.” She sets down her phone. Her voice is tinny as she calls out, “Gimme a sec. I’ll join you.”
I listen to her moving about her tiny kitchen as I meander by the pool, still dazed from everything I’ve learned these last few weeks. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about my conversation with Silas.
God, I just want to hold him until he knows exactly how amazing he is, even with the murder room.
Especially with the murder room.
Definitely not telling her that.
Amelia picks up the phone and toasts me.
As I take another drink, she asks, “Have you seen much of him?”
I choke a little, which she definitely notices.
She hasn’t even said his name.
“Occasionally, when he’s not out on assignments,” I finally say. “I mean, he and I have the same lunch schedule, but Sy tends to keep to himself.”
