Sixty-Seven

Isobelle

We arrived home, and the atmosphere was intense. I hid my purchases in my side of the wardrobe and swapped my shoes for my slippers.

Four pairs of sheepish eyes stared back at me as I settled on the sofa. I seized the remote before Lucas could, then flicked through the channels at a leisurely pace.

"Shall I start dinner?" Alex offered.

I didn't answer. We were supposed to eat out, but I was in such a foul frame of mind, we came straight home.

"Do you need a hand?" Grayson asked.

Alex didn't refuse his offer to help. Lucas slumped into the armchair, his elbow resting on the arm with his face crushed against his fist. I could feel his grim mood charging the air with static. Mason perched his backside on the arm of the couch. He seemed awkward and on-edge, like he longed to say something but didn't know if he should.

Two minutes later he spoke, "Would you like a cup of tea, love?"

A stubborn part of me wanted to tell him he could shove it up his butt, but my mouth was as dry as