All For You

Twenty

Isla

When we get out of the pool, and the awkwardness has disappeared, and I've taken a shower and cozied up in one of the hoodies and sweats Mia gave me, I decide it's time to get serious.

I've really enjoyed being relaxed and feeling just as peaceful, but all its really done is shove in my face that I'm letting my guard down quicker than I was trained to.

I want to pretend nothing's wrong as much as the rest of them do, but that's not how this works.

I've had enough fun. Enough rest and laughter to make up for the amount of it that I missed out on just in a few days, and now I have to slap the faces of my family with the harsh reality that this fight isn't over, and if we're not careful, it'll show up right on our front doorstep.

I don't care how sure these guys are that this place is untouchable—invincible—because it's not. It never will be—at least not until the organisation and its anger are gone for good.

"So, what's the plan?" I ask, out of nowhere, at the dinner table while we eat macaroni and cheese from scratch. Dad's a chef if I've ever seen one, and I didn't realise how much I'd actually missed his cooking—this amazingly creamy mac and cheese—until I got it back.

Heads turn, and everyone goes quiet, and no-one seems to know what to say. Dad puts his fork down slowly, giving me a look. I fight the warning in his eyes with the stubbornness in mine. "Isla."

"No. Don't 'Isla' me. I've given this whole resting thing a go, and it's been a whole week, and I'm over it. I've tried your way, now it's time you try mine. I'm trying to be cooperative here, you know." I don't take my eyes off his until I feel Warner's eyes trying to catch mine. He's trying to fight me with them as hard as dad was, but I don't care.

I'm done waiting. I'm done pretending I'm not scared shitless. We're sitting ducks in this house, and I'm afraid just one more day is all the organisation will need to find it.

"Cooperative? Where?" Warner scoffs, his eyes not faltering for a second. Fine by me, cause mine won't, either.

"If it was up to me, I would've been out there doing something to keep the organisation off my tail the second I got out of the hospital, but I'm here, eating mac and cheese—which is delicious, by the way—trying to convince you guys to make a plan with me. Don't tell me I haven't been trying." And I have. And as much as I've enjoyed it, it's time to get to work. "So, what's the plan?"

Nick sighs, seeming to have lost his appetite. I don't know how, because this mac and cheese is the best thing I've tasted in a while. "What's yours?"

I smile at him, but it's blown right away when Warner turns his glare to his brother, instead. "Nick! What the hell?"

"Shut up, Warner. She's got a point. It's not like the organisation isn't a problem, and the longer we leave it, the more time we're giving the fucks to plan ahead of us. And how is she ever gonna properly relax if all she can think about is when they'll find and kill us all?" Nick pushes his plate away and glares right back, sighing. I'd pat him on the back just for taking my side if he hadn't kind of insulted me half-way through.

Insulted, observed. Same difference. Whatever.

"You've still got guys working in the organisation, right? And they're still sending you mission details?" Dad hesitates, but he nods, and I smile at him as a thank you. Because I can understand why this must be hard for him. I'm still his little girl, even if I could probably drop him on his ass almost as easy as I did to Nick. "We start from there. Continue messing up missions or whatever you guys were doing before. It pissed them off, and that's probably a good place to start. The angrier they are, the less patience they have, and that's where they've always stumbled before."