Chapter 30

I stared at the list Elijah handed me, my stomach sinking.

"This is actually child labor," I said, holding it up dramatically.

Elijah didn't even look up from where he was organizing groceries. "No, this is consequences."

"Consequences for what?" I argued. "Defending my honor? Protecting my dignity?!"

"Punching someone in the face," Elijah deadpanned.

I huffed, looking back at the never-ending list. It was a mile long—clean the kitchen, vacuum the living room, do laundry, wipe down the bathroom, mop the floors, take out the trash—was this a joke?!

"How am I supposed to do all of this in one day?" I asked, exasperated.

"You'll figure it out," Elijah said cheerfully, ruffling my hair. "Now get started, Cinderella."

I groaned loudly.

Elijah just laughed.

I started with the dishes since they were the easiest. Well, should have been the easiest.

"Why does everyone leave food on their plates?!" I muttered, scrubbing at dried pasta sauce.

Elijah, still putting groceries away, didn't even look at me. "Because they know you'll clean it."

"I hate this family."

I finished loading the dishwasher, wiped down the counters, and then moved onto sweeping. Halfway through, I got distracted and started playing floor hockey with the dustpan and a piece of bread crust I found under the table.

"What are you doing?" Elijah asked, eyeing me.

"Practicing for the Olympics," I said, flicking the crust into the dustpan with the broom.

"Right. And you wonder why it takes you so long to do things."

I scowled but kept working.

Laundry was the worst.

Sorting clothes? Awful. Folding them? Even worse.

I sat on the couch, glaring at the massive pile in front of me. "I hope Elijah's shirts get lost in the void."

I took my time folding, making sure to crumple Elijah's socks as much as possible out of pure spite.

"Adrian, I can see you."

I froze, then slowly, deliberately, folded his next shirt perfectly just to throw him off.

Elijah just rolled his eyes.

I had to hold my breath the entire time I tied up the trash bags because holy hell—something in there had died.

"Oh my god," I gagged. "Who did this?!"

"The consequences of living with boys," Elijah said unhelpfully.

"We need a hazmat suit."

"We need you to take the bag out."

I held the bag at arm's length, trying not to breathe as I carried it outside.

I had just thrown it into the bin when a spider crawled across the lid.

Nope.

I yelped, dropped the bin lid, and sprinted back inside.

"Survive?" Elijah asked, amused.

"Barely."

I had only finished half the chores when the doorbell rang.

Diana walked in, all smiles, before pulling me into a hug. "There's my favorite honorary son!"

"I'm your only honorary son," I pointed out, voice muffled against her shoulder.

"Exactly!" she said brightly. "Now, let's get some food in you."

"Yes, please. I'm dying."

Elijah snorted from where he was grabbing his work bag. "Dramatic much?"

"You literally sentenced me to slave labor, so no, I'm being reasonable," I shot back, already moving toward the kitchen.

Diana just laughed as she started making grilled cheese and soup, and the second the plate was in front of me, I practically inhaled it.

"Bunny, slow down," she said, amused.

"No," I mumbled through a mouthful. "I've been tortured all morning."

She rolled her eyes but kept smiling. Then her gaze flickered to my jaw, and her expression softened.

"Still hurts, huh?" she asked gently.

I hesitated, swallowing. "It's fine."

Diana raised an eyebrow.

"It'll go away in a few days," I added quickly.

"Did Easton put ice on it?"

"Yeah."

She hummed, not looking convinced. "You should do it again later. Bruises take time to heal."

I nodded, keeping my eyes on my plate.

Diana reached across the table, squeezing my hand lightly. "I know this whole thing has been a mess, but you're strong, Adrian. And you're not alone in this, okay?"

I swallowed hard. "Yeah. I know."

We finished eating in comfortable silence, and she made me a cup of tea before I reluctantly dragged myself back to my chores.

As I rinsed my plate in the sink, Elijah walked into the kitchen, now fully dressed for work. He grabbed his keys from the counter and turned to me, eyebrows raised.

"Try to be good while I'm gone, okay?" he said.

"I'm always good," I said, batting my eyelashes at him.

Elijah gave me a look.

"Okay, mostly good," I corrected.

"Adrian."

"Fine, fine, I'll behave," I muttered.

Elijah sighed, then ruffled my hair. "I'll be home later tonight. Don't drive Diana crazy."

"No promises."

Diana smirked. "Oh, I can handle him."

Elijah laughed, giving her a nod before heading for the door.

"See you later, kid," he called over his shoulder.

"Bye," I mumbled, watching him leave.

The second the door shut, Diana clapped her hands.

"Alright, back to work, Cinderella."

I groaned but grabbed my chore list anyway.

Vacuuming? Uhh Annoying. The vacuum was heavy, and I kept running over my own toes.

"Stupid thing," I grumbled, shoving it harder.

"You're the one controlling it," Diana called.

I scowled and kept going.

Then came cleaning the bathroom.

"I hate my life," I muttered, scrubbing the sink.

Cleaning the toilet was even worse. I held my breath, trying to get it over with as fast as possible.

Finally, wiping down the dining table was the easiest.

I tossed the cloth into the laundry bin and collapsed onto the couch.

I had just started relaxing when the front door burst open.

"We're back!" Alex called.

"Took you long enough," I muttered.

Alex and Miles walked in, both eyeing me.

"You look dead," Miles observed.

"I am dead."

"What did Elijah do to you?"

"Made me do chores," I said miserably.

Alex winced. "Oof. Brutal."

Miles grinned. "I bet you didn't finish them all."

"Joke's on you. I did."

Easton walked in just in time to hear that. "And yet, you're still grounded."

"This is oppression."

"This is parenting."

Henry wandered in last, looking half-asleep. He didn't even acknowledge us, just flopped onto the couch with his headphones in, eating straight from a box of cereal.

"Did you put ice back on your face?" Easton asked.

"No."

"Then do it now."

I groaned but got up to grab the ice pack and walked into the kitchen.

"Do I have to help?" I whined, slumping against the kitchen counter.

"Yes," Easton said, not even looking at me as he unpacked the groceries.

"But I don't want to."

"And I don't want to deal with your attitude, but here we are."

I groaned dramatically, letting my head drop onto the counter. "Lasagna takes forever to cook. Can't we just make something faster?"

"Nope. You've been a little menace all day, and this is your punishment."

"This is cruel and unusual punishment," I muttered.

Easton ignored me and handed me an onion. "Chop this."

I scowled at it. "What if I just don't?"

"Then we don't eat."

I sighed heavily, grabbing the knife like it physically pained me.

"If I lose a finger, I'm blaming you," I muttered.

"I'll be sure to frame it and hang it on the fridge."

I rolled my eyes and started chopping. It took approximately three seconds for my eyes to start burning.

"Ow—oh my god—what is this?" I groaned, rubbing my eyes.

"It's an onion, Adrian," Easton said, way too amused.

"This is evil."

"You're so dramatic."

I blinked rapidly, tears streaming down my face. "I'm dying. I can't see. Tell my brothers I love them."

"I'll be sure to let them know," Easton said dryly, taking the knife away from me. "You're getting demoted."

"Good. I quit."

He handed me a pack of minced beef instead. "Cook this, then."

I turned on the stove, tossed the beef in, and immediately regretted it as hot oil popped up and landed on my wrist.

"Ow!"

Easton sighed and grabbed my wrist, dragging me to the sink. "Seriously, Bunny, how do you survive daily life?"

"With great difficulty," I muttered, letting the cold water run over my skin.

"You are a hazard," he said, shaking his head.

"I'm delicate," I corrected.

Easton snorted. "You're something."

Once my wrist was no longer in immediate danger, he sent me to shred cheese.

"This is the only thing I trust you with," he said.

"Wow. So much faith in me."

"Not even a little."

I grumbled under my breath and started grating the cheese. It was the only fun part of the whole thing. At least until Miles poked his head into the kitchen and smirked.

"You actually helping for once?" he asked.

"Against my will," I said flatly.

"Are you making lasagna? Oh, nice, I love lasagna."

"I hate lasagna," I muttered.

Miles gasped. "That's illegal to say."

"It takes forever."

"But it's worth it."

"Doubtful."

"Bunny, stop complaining and finish the cheese," Easton cut in.

"I'm working under protest," I informed him.

"Duly noted."

Finally, we started layering everything together: sauce, pasta, cheese, more pasta. I was getting so bored.

"How much longer?" I groaned.

"We just put it together," Easton said.

"Yeah, and now it has to bake for, like, an hour," I huffed, crossing my arms.

"Not an hour. Forty minutes," Easton corrected.

"Might as well be an hour," I muttered.

Easton just rolled his eyes. "You are the most impatient person I have ever met."

"Not my fault lasagna is the slowest food on earth."

"You like lasagna."

"Yeah, when it's already done."

"You're impossible."

"And yet, you love me."

Easton sighed dramatically. "Unfortunately."

I smirked as he slid the lasagna into the oven.

"Alright, forty minutes," he said, dusting his hands off. "You can survive that long, right?"

"Doubtful," I mumbled, collapsing onto the couch.

Easton just shook his head, muttering something about hopeless little brothers under his breath.

Casually—too casually—I stood up from the couch and started walking toward the hallway. "Gonna—uh—go wash my hands."

Miles, already grabbing plates from the cupboard, gave me a look. "You're just trying to get out of setting the table."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said, quickening my pace.

I had almost made it I almost escaped when the front door suddenly swung open.

Elijah.

I did not expect him home this early.

"Adrian—"

I yelled. Not because I was scared, of course, but because I was startled. A completely normal reaction.

Unfortunately, in my panic, my foot caught on the rug, and before I could even process what was happening, I tripped.

And fell.

Flat on my butt.

Pain shot through my tailbone, and I groaned, rolling onto my side. "Ow—!"

Elijah blinked down at me, obviously trying very hard not to laugh. "You good?"

"No," I mumbled, rubbing my lower back.

At that exact moment, Henry walked in from the hallway. He looked between me, Elijah, and my tragic position on the floor.

"What happened to you?" he asked, amused.

I huffed. "I fell and hurt my—"

Smack.

Henry smacked my butt.

I yelled.

"Why would you do that?!" I shrieked, scrambling away from him holding my sore bum.

Henry was grinning, completely unbothered. "Just checking if it still works."

"You are a menace—"

"Alright, alright," Easton cut in, walking over. "Henry, leave him alone. Adrian, stop rolling around on the floor."

I glared at Henry as I climbed to my feet. "You're lucky I'm already injured."

Henry smirked. "Or what? You'll throw another punch?"

"You wanna find out?"

Elijah sighed, draping an arm around my shoulders. "Okay, let's all calm down. It's time for dinner."

I immediately perked up. "Finally."

We all moved toward the dining room, and I slid into my usual seat. The second Easton put the lasagna down, I grabbed my fork.

"Wait," Elijah said, raising an eyebrow. "Did you wash your hands?"

I hesitated.

...Crap.

Miles smirked. "Didn't you just say you were going to do that?"

"I—" I started, then sighed. "Fine. I'm going."

I stood up dramatically, making a big show of walking to the sink.

Behind me, Henry chuckled. "He's so dramatic."

"You guys raised me," I shot back. "It's your fault."

Elijah sighed, shaking his head. "He's not wrong."

I smirked as I washed my hands.

The dining room was filled with the clinking of silverware against plates, the warm smell of lasagna filling the air. The first bite was heaven cheesy, rich, and totally worth all the waiting even if I had complained the entire time.

I took another forkful, humming in approval. "Okay... maybe this was worth the suffering."

Across the table, Easton gave me a smug look. "Told you."

"I never said you were right."

"You didn't have to. I can see it all over your face."

I scowled, stuffing more lasagna into my mouth so I wouldn't have to respond.

Henry, meanwhile, was practically inhaling his food. "So, Adrian," he said through a mouthful. "You gonna start punching more people when you go back to school?"

I glared. "No."

Miles snorted. "Shame. You actually did some damage."

"Lucas did most of it," I pointed out.

"Yeah, but you started it." Alex grinned. "Didn't think you had it in you, Bunny."

I rolled my eyes, but before I could respond, Elijah gave them all a look. "We're not encouraging violence."

Henry grinned. "We're not discouraging it either."

Easton sighed, rubbing his temples. "You should be discouraging it."

I nudged my fork into my mashed potatoes, poking at the small gravy river I had made. "Can we change the subject?"

Elijah, thankfully, took the hint. "Fine. Who's on dish duty tonight?"

Immediately, everyone started talking at once.

"Not me."

"I cooked."

"I set the table."

"Adrian should do it he's grounded."

I scowled. "I have been working all day! Diana can confirm!"

Miles smirked. "So, what I'm hearing is... you have plenty of experience."

Elijah sighed. "We'll all help. Happy?"

The grumbling around the table meant no, but no one argued.

For a few minutes, things were quiet, the only sounds being the occasional clinking of silverware. I leaned slightly into Elijah's side, half-focused on my food, the warmth from his arm comforting.

After dinner, I leaned back in my chair, feeling full for the first time all day. I wasn't sure if it was because I had actually helped make the lasagna or if I was just exhausted, but it had hit the spot.

I was about to melt into my chair when Elijah spoke up. "Alright, Adrian, you finished all your chores, so you can have your sweets now."

I blinked. Then my eyes widened.

"Oh my god, I forgot!"

I jumped up so fast that my chair nearly tipped over, making the others laugh as I sprinted toward the kitchen. I heard Henry snicker behind me. "He's never moved that fast in his life."

Ignoring them, I dug through the shopping bags, my hands finally landing on the pack of sweetsI had picked earlier. Victory.

By the time I flopped onto the couch, the others had already settled in to watch TV. I curled up between Easton and Elijah, opening my sweets and popping a few into my mouth as the show started.

The rest of the evening was peaceful. For once, no one was teasing me, and there wasn't any tension. Just all of us, lounging in the living room, feeling content.

But, of course, it couldn't last.

The second the program ended, Elijah stretched and ruined everything.

"Alright, bedtime."

I froze.

"Wait, what?"

Elijah gave me a look. "It's late, and you've had a long day. Go get ready for bed."

I glanced around, realizing that none of my brothers were moving.

"Wait—they're staying up!" I argued.

Miles smirked. "Because we're not babies."

Alex grinned. "Yeah, and the baby is getting cranky."

"I am not cranky!" I huffed, sitting up straighter.

That was apparently the wrong move, because suddenly all of them started cooing at me like I was some toddler throwing a tantrum.

"Awww, look at him, fighting sleep!"

"Poor thing, he's all grumpy."

"Bunny needs his rest, or he'll be extra moody tomorrow."

I scowled. "I hate you all."

Easton just chuckled and stood up, stretching. "Come on, kid. Let's get you to bed."

I didn't have a choice. If Easton decided I was going to bed, I was going to bed.

Muttering under my breath, I let him guide me up the stairs, dragging my feet dramatically.

When we reached my room, he ruffled my hair before pulling my hoodie off. "Alright, go get changed."

I sighed but obeyed, changing into my sleep clothes while Easton pulled my blankets down for me. When I flopped onto my bed, he tucked the blankets around me and kissed my forehead.

"Goodnight, Bunny."

I mumbled something mostly unintelligible, already halfway asleep.

As Easton turned off the light and shut the door, I sighed into my pillow.

Yeah. Maybe I was a little tired.

But I'd never admit it.

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Word count: 2623

Hey Guys Thanks for reading this story so please be nice and kind. I am sorry if there are any spelling mistakes or bad grammar.

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More chapters will be coming out soon.

*EMMA HETHRON*