Lark's face lights up and she reaches for Isabelle's hand, shaking it warmly. "So nice to meet you! Alex has mentioned you. He says your food isunreal."
Jack steps forward and extends his hand, and his grin turns absolutely wicked. "Sorry about your dad, by the way. Alex says he sounds absolutely insane. You mustreallyhate Alex for agreeing to the whole spy thing."
I groan. "Jack?—"
"You know, it was pretty rocky at the start there," Isabelle says, and she's laughing now, relaxing slightly. "In fact, he's still on my shit list in some ways. But slowly climbing out."
"Hey," I protest, looking between the three of them. "I am actuallyIsabelle'sspy at this point. I show her every message before I send it to her dad. I'm like a double agent. It's quite noble, really."
Isabelle smiles. "To be fair, hehasbeen doing that, so I can'treally be mad at anyone but my father. Who, like Jack said, is insane."
"Oh, you have to tell us the whole story over dinner," Jack says, grabbing Lark's bags and slinging one over his shoulder as he heads toward the SUV. "I love a good insane father saga."
"Deal," Isabelle says, falling into step beside us. She glances between me and Jack as we walk. "You know, you two don't look that much alike. Apart from the height."
"We're all adopted," I say. "But I think our parents must have put in a specific request at the agency. Tall genes only, please. No exceptions."
Her eyes widen slightly. "I had no idea."
"Five brothers, all adopted, all inexplicably tall," Jack adds, shifting the bag to his other shoulder as we weave through the crowd of people waiting for pickups. "It's like they were building a basketball team."
"Well, you'll have to give me all the dirt on Alex," Isabelle says to Jack, and I immediately regret every decision that led to this moment. "I feel like there's a lot I don't know."
Jack's grin goes absolutely feral. "Oh, I can give you dirt. Though unfortunately most of Alex's dirt is also incriminating to me, so it's a delicate situation. A lot of mutually assured destruction."
"Jack and I used to get into a little bit of trouble," I say quickly, hoping to control the narrative before Jack gets to the really good stuff. The stuff that makes me look like an idiot.
Lark snorts. "Alittlebit? You two are the reason Dark River's sheriff knows the Midnight family by first name."
"Are we talking skipping class kind of trouble?" Isabelle asks, looking between the three of us with growing interest. "Or something more creative?"
Jack tilts his hand back and forth in a so-so gesture. "Middle ground. A few fights, some light trespassing, one memorableincident involving the town's water tower and spray paint. Then of course there was the car incident."
"That was all you," I say.
"It was a collaborative effort and you know it." Jack turns to Isabelle with an earnest expression. "We stole this car."
"Jack,you?—"
"Okay, fine,Istole a car," he says, cutting me off without missing a beat. "It was actually the second car I stole, which sounds worse than it is. But this one belonged to a bully at our school, so we were really more like vigilantes than criminals. Robin Hood but with grand theft auto. No harm to any innocent citizens, though plenty to ourselves."
"He's now referring to the time he broke my collarbone in a dirt bike incident," I say.
Jack waves a hand dismissively. "That was an accident. I just wanted to see how fast we could go down Spruce's hill. How was I supposed to know there'd be a fence at the bottom?"
Isabelle is laughing now, her whole face lighting up. "Wow. Alex has been holding out on me. This whole time I thought he was mildly insane but fundamentally responsible."
"The responsible one is Theo," Jack and I say at exactly the same time, which makes Lark shake her head and Isabelle laugh harder.
"Dominic is a close second," I add, popping the trunk of the SUV. "Calvin third. And then waaaay down at the bottom is Jack and me. But I'm slightly above Jack on the responsibility scale."
"Debatable," Jack says.
"Not debatable at all," I say, and wink at Isabelle.
I notice a woman about Isabelle's age walking toward us, beaming, with a sticker-covered duffel bag over one shoulder and the kind of outfit that looks like she raided a vintage shop. She's wearing bright yellow pants, a cropped band t-shirt, and at least seven necklaces layered at different lengths. Lark catches my gaze and turns to wave her over.
"Oh, and this is Mia," Lark says. "She's a professional dancer and overallamazinghuman being. We're collaborating on a music video concept. We're all heading to LA together and got along so well we thought she should come out tonight."