Graceless (Grace Notes #2)

Annabelle bustled to the table bringing out piles of BBQ that their chef, Christos had prepared. The delicious smells made her belly grumble, which in turn made the baby kick. She winced. She looked up to see Lane watching her, so she gave them a reassuring smile.

As the meal was being served up, Cassidy materialized as a small figure coming up the track through the fields, then arrived and took her seat at the table.

“Hey,” Savannah greeted her sister. “How was your day at the studio?”

Cassidy took a long time replying, and for a moment, Savannah thought she was being ignored.

“Great,” she said tightly. Apparently, that was all she had to say on the subject. Savannah dug.

“What did you think of Brynn’s track?”

This seemed to give her real pause.

“It was great,” she said reluctantly. Savannah had heard early versions of it and knew it was approximately twelve thousand miles past great.

“And what did you think of Greta?” she tried. Cassidy gave her a flat, angry look.

“Great,” she almost spat.

“Is something the problem?” Savannah felt beyond weary. She didn’t want to fight with Cassidy, or anyone, but her sister seemed as always to be spoiling for it.

“No,” she replied shortly. “Just you.”

Both Brynn and Lane put down their forks. Savannah sighed.

“Okay,” she said, after she’d managed to bite down about eight angry responses. “How have I put my foot in it now?”

“Now?” Cassidy glared. “Really? Aside from point-blank refusing to help out your own flesh and blood? You know what Brynn pointed out today? You haven’t even heard me sing. You can’t even be bothered to do that.”

“Now, wait a minute-“ Brynn held up a hand.

“Cut it out!” Lane’s voice cut through as they shoved back their seat and stood up, every line of their body tense. “I don’t know if you even believe your own bullsh- BS, Cassidy, but I don’t think it actually matters.” Their usually warm brown eyes were blazing. Savannah was gobsmacked. In the years they’d been together, she had never once seen Lane anything worse than mildly grouchy.

“Oh sure,” Cassidy looked slightly electrified. “Tell me what matters,” her voice was tight and sarcastic.

“What matters,” Lane growled, their voice low, “is that you come here, into Savannah and Brynn’s home, where they give you shelter and safety and a place to land, and how do you repay it? You disrespect them, their identities, and their love. You treat your pregnant sister like she’s a punching bag. And you do all that in front of their child – your five-year-old nephew. Is that the kind of person you want to be? Because I can tell you right now, that’s not the kind of person anyone wants to be around.”

Cassidy looked shaken. She lifted her head and appealed to Savannah.

“Are you just going to sit there and let them talk to me like that? The help?”

Savannah sat bolt upright, despite the ache in her spine.

“Lane,” she said firmly, “is family. And believe me when I say you better get used to that fact.”

Cassidy flushed.

“Great,” she said. “They’re all your family. Except, apparently, for me.” A moment later, the door slammed behind her as she ran into the house.

Lane paused. They stood for a moment longer, wincing and shaking their hands and arms like trying to rid their body of anger. Then they took their seat at the table.

“I’m sorry,” they muttered. “I was out of line. I can go try to talk to her?”

“No,” Brynn and Savannah said simultaneously.

“It’s cool, Lane,” Brynn added. “I know you were just trying to defend us.”

“I’m sorry,” they said again. “I just get mad when someone messes with-”