Five Brothers Read Online Penelope Douglas

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, New Adult Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
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“But it rains in the kitchen”—Krisjen grins—“which is kind of cool.”

“There’s no central air-conditioning,” I tell the kids, “and the water tastes like mud.”

“And there are bones in the backyard,” Army says, “because every animal in a ten-mile radius comes to our house to die.”

Mars laughs as he eats a spoonful of ice cream.

“The lights go off in thunderstorms,” Krisjen tells them, “and it always sounds like a creaky shutter and smells like early-morning fog and old wood.”

Army looks at her over his shoulder, Dex trying to climb out of his grip.

“The ceramic tile floors are this beautiful red-orange color, and the stairs are all uneven like a Dr. Seuss house.” She smiles to herself as she makes Paisleigh’s sundae. “Because they’ve endured years of all the Jaeger boys, and all the people before them, running and stomping up and down them and moving furniture on them …”

The glow on her cheeks brightens with every word, and I meet Army’s eyes, both of us going silent.

“And kids learning to climb them,” she continues, “and there’s a thin hole about three inches long on one step halfway up that I’m always worried will give me a splinter, but I hope it never gets fixed.”

I know that step.

She really loves our house, doesn’t she?

“Why don’t you want them to fix it?” Paisleigh asks.

But Krisjen doesn’t answer her sister. Because beauty is in the small things and character is in the flaws, and learning that fact can’t be taught or told.

I’ve never loved my house, but Krisjen sees it as magical.

Army’s eyes fall as Dex swats at him, and I finish doling out the ice cream.

“How can you see if the lights go off in a thunderstorm?” the little girl asks Krisjen.

But I drop the scooper, replying, “Like this!”

And I dive down, force my head between her sister’s legs, and haul Krisjen up onto my shoulders, high in the air.

“Trace!”

I plant Krisjen’s hands over my eyes, and I hear a peal of laughter from the little girl.

“Don’t break anything,” Army grumbles.

I hold out my hands, blindly feeling for the refrigerator. “No promises.”

I open the door and pull out a small plastic container of something I can’t see. “Okay, is this the ice cream?”

“N—”

“Yep!” Krisjen laughs. “That’s it.”

More giggling from the other side of the island.

I uncap it and start dishing out scoops into a mug.

“Krisjen!” Paisleigh shouts.

But all her big sister says is “Shh.”

“And some sprinkles,” I singsong, grabbing something that feels like olive oil. “Must have sprinkles!”

“Oh no,” Paisleigh groans.

I can hear her palm hit her forehead.

“And I need some chocolate sauce.” I reach to my right, feeling for a container.

“No, not there,” Krisjen tells me, still covering my eyes. “To the left. More. More. There.”

I grab what I’m sure is a pepper grinder.

“Krisjen, but …”

“Shh, I know what I’m doing, silly,” she tells Paisleigh. Then instructs me, “Now twist it.”

I smile, happy to hear the light tone in her voice again.

“Mmm, this is going to be so good,” I coo. “I can’t wait.”

I feel for a spoon, dip it into the mug, and scoop up a mouthful. “Ugh.” Mars groans.

Paisleigh giggles, waiting for me to take the bite.

“I can’t watch this,” Mars finally says, and I hear his stool scrape against the floor.

I take a huge bite of sour cream and gag, acting like I’m going to vomit as the little girl starts laughing hysterically.

I keel over, and Krisjen starts to fall, letting out a laughter-scream combo as her hands leave my eyes.

I try to catch her, but she topples to the side and into my brother’s arms. He holds her, both of them staring at each other for a moment.

“There she is,” he says, both of us clearly glad to see her smile back again.

We take our sundaes to the table, while Mars disappears upstairs and Paisleigh plays with Dex in the foyer.

“Thanks for this, guys,” Krisjen says, setting her mug down on the table. “I just don’t want to be a problem for Mariette or Macon. With my parents and their problems—”

But she doesn’t need to explain. “That’s how the Bay survives, even given all of its struggles and fighting and noise,” I tell her. “We never think we have to do anything alone.”

And neither does she.

I inhale the cool air, the central air-conditioning alone possibly worth marrying her and moving in. “I like your room.”

We lie on top of her bed, fully clothed, the unfamiliar territory making me a little uneasy. Every time she left my bed this summer, I never gave one thought to where she slept. It’s kind of hard to picture her in this house. It’s all white and gold and clean and cold. Except her room. The walls are baby blue, and she has a canopy over her bed, because Krisjen was always told she was a princess.



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