“Still. It was ugly, and I didn’t want you to see it.”
“I’m okay. Thank you for defending me.” At least, I think he was defending me. I want to know more about Tiffany and about Darius, but they’re obviously sensitive subjects. “Do you fight like that with all your brothers?”
“All the time.”
My eyes widen. “Even Matthias?”
“Matthias brawls as much as the rest of us. He’s just smarter about it. With him, the fight’s over almost as soon as it starts.”
“Twins and triplets. My God. Your poor mother.
“Trust me, she could handle us.”
“Could?” I gulp. Has Teddy been referring to his mother in the past tense, and I missed it? Did she die?
“She’s not dead. She’s just…taking some time to herself.”
“Does she live close?”
“We all live on the mountain.”
“You and all your brothers? Or…almost all of them,” I backtrack when I remember Darius. “Do all your brothers have cute cabins like this one? Are the triplets identical too? When can I meet them?”
“Yes, no, and never.” He straightens with a frown.
6
Lana
“You sure you’re feeling better?” Teddy asks as he serves me pancakes on the couch.
“Great. Much better. I probably shouldn’t do any jumping jacks today, but I avoid doing jumping jacks even when I don’t have a head injury. My boobs once snapped a sports bra after only three jumps.”
Teddy blinks and holds my gaze in a masterful attempt not to glance down at my boobs. “Have you remembered anything else from yesterday?”
“No, I don’t think so. But if I rest up, I bet I’ll be remembering everything in no time. I just need a little peace and quiet.”
“Okay, babygirl. Peace and quiet I can do.”
A blast of sound blows the door open. I shriek and throw up my hands to cover my ears, forgetting I’m holding a fork. It goes flying. Teddy shoves off the couch so fast it nearly topples over with me in it. He stomps to the door, shouting something I can’t hear him over the din. Whatever’s making the noise outside, it sounds like a million weasels getting crushed by a church organ. It’s so loud and so bad, my eyes water.
A second after Teddy exits the cabin, the noise falls away, leaving blissful silence. I wipe tears from my eyes and head outside to see what’s up.
Teddy stands on the stoop, facing three shaggy haired young men. The first and third are in matching plaid kilts. The first is shirtless, showing a scrawny white chest. The one in the middle is dressed head-to-toe in black, and behind the screen of hair in his face, his eyes are rimmed with guyliner.
They’re all holding red plaid bladders studded with ornate black reeds. Bagpipes. That explains the noise.
The shirtless one tosses his hair out of his face, angles his head, and blows a blasting note on his instrument. The sound is like needles in my head.
“No,” shouts Teddy, and the teen drops the instrument.
“C’mon, big bro. If we don’t practice, how are we supposed to get paying gigs?”
Teddy folds his burly arms over his chest. “You think people are lining up to pay someone to play the bagpipes?”
“No,” he scoffs. “The plan is to show up and play, so people will pay for us to go away.”
The young man all in black tilts his head, causing more of his hair to fall in his face. “Then why do we need to practice? Won't it work better if we suck?”
“Enough,” Teddy barks. “We’re not practicing today. We’re not forming a bagpipe band.”
“Fine.” The shirtless guy says. “I have plenty more ideas.”
“Hey,” the third perks up. “Do I smell pancakes?”
“No,” Teddy says, but I push out the door to stand beside him.
“Yes,” I correct. “We have plenty. I’m not going to eat five pounds of bacon.”
“Bacon?” the shirtless one says hopefully.
The other two stare at me. Their shoulder-length hair is still in their faces, but I can see enough of them to tell they’re identical.
“OMG!” I say. “You must be the triplets.”
“The Terrible Threes,” Teddy murmurs under his breath. I poke him in the side.
“Who are you?” the kid in black asks.
“I’m Lana.” I look expectantly at Teddy until he sighs and makes introductions.
“Hutch, Bern, and Canyon.” He points to each in turn. “You can come inside and eat pancakes. But no bothering my guest. And no bagpipes.” He glares at Hutch, whose bagpipe just let out a muffled squeak.
“Fine.” The goth looking one, Bern, drops his bagpipe to the ground. The other two fall in line. They file in after Teddy. The shirtless one, Canyon, winks at me.
Once in the cabin, they fall into a practiced routine. Bern and Canyon flick their hair out of their face long enough to unpin a long pine plank from the wall and set it up as a table. They disappear out the door and return with five polished stumps to use as seats. Teddy mans the stove, sliding trays of bacon into the oven and making stacks of small, sand-dollar sized pancakes, while Hutch sets the table and ferries food too and fro.