Tangled Hearts.

~Chapter 30~

~Raelyn~

~Wednesday March 26th~

Sunlight streamed through the blinds like nature's way of saying, "Get your lazy asses up."

The trap house was already buzzing—well, the girls were, anyway. Me, Isa, Devyn, Tara, and Katrina were running a full-blown breakfast operation like it was a Michelin-starred brunch spot and not... a house that still had solo cups in the bathtub.

"Yo, Tara, don't burn those pancakes again. This isn't a crime scene," Isa said, flapping a dish towel like a coach at a culinary bootcamp.

Tara flipped one dramatically. "Relax, Gordon Ramsay. I'm in my redemption arc."

I was aggressively whisking eggs like they owed me money. "I'd just like to remind everyone that I did faceplant off a paddleboard yesterday and still showed up to cook. I am a warrior."

"Warrior?" Katrina snorted. "You screamed like a Disney princess being chased by a bee."

"Okay, first of all, that bee was the size of a raccoon," I said.

The smell of bacon, butter, and pure chaos wafted into the living room. Like clockwork, the boys stumbled in one by one, lured by the scent of food and possibly the fear of missing it.

Corey stretched like he was auditioning for a yoga commercial. Jake's hair looked like it lost a fight with a weed whacker. And Colby walked in like a man who hadn't slept in seventeen years.

Colby blinked at the sunlight. "Anyone else still haunted by that psychotic swan from the picnic?"

"Oh my god, yes!" Devyn wheezed. "You were running like it was the final lap of the Olympics."

"That thing had murder in its eyes," he muttered, grabbing a coffee like it might solve his trauma. "It's still in my dreams. I think it's plotting something."

Isa cackled. "It was like Mission: Im-swan-ible. You were the target."

Sam wandered in and wrapped his arms around Katrina from behind, stealing a slice of toast like a gremlin. "Chef, permission to taste test?"

"You mean steal my breakfast while whispering sweet nothings? Denied," she said, smirking.

Corey hovered over Devyn's skillet. "Are those hash browns golden or just really confident in their self-worth?"

Devyn shoved him lightly. "If you touch one, I'll golden you."

Colby, still 60% asleep, dropped his head on my shoulder. "Any chance we're having revenge swan for breakfast?"

I kissed his cheek and grinned. "Not unless you go hunt it yourself, Rambo."

Jake strolled in holding plates like he was Moses delivering the Ten Commandments. "I'm on dish duty, but I charge extra for syrup removal."

"Better put that on your resume," Tara said, high-fiving him.

The kitchen was a full-blown sitcom—clattering pans, flying bacon, and someone (probably Corey) yelling "Hey! That was my pancake!"

Finally, we all squeezed around the bar, plates loaded like we were preparing for hibernation. Little Blake climbed onto my lap, clutching a fork like a knight with his sword.

"To Rae's majestic paddleboard dive and Colby's feathered nemesis!" Isa raised her orange juice.

"And to Isa's last few days in LA!" I added. "Let's make 'em count."

Clink. Orange juice sloshed. Someone snorted. Laughter filled the air like background music in the final scene of a feel-good teen movie.

~