Too many hands in one house

If there was one thing Aria Carter hated about summer, it was how it refused to end quietly. The last week of August always carried an unsettling stillness—heavy in the air, humid and slow—like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. And Aria, just freshly eighteen, had hoped this year would be different. She had envisioned a calm week before classes started again: late mornings, iced coffee, the house blessedly silent. But peace was never something her life offered for long. Not with a brother like Mason. Mason, who was twenty-three, messy, impulsive, and loyal to the wrong people. Mason, who carried the kind of smile that promised trouble before he even opened his mouth. Mason, who thought the world was a playground and consequences were optional. And unfortunately, where Mason went, his friends followed. They were practically legends in their small town—legends for all the wrong reasons. The type of men mothers warned their daughters about. The type of men fathers glared at when they walked past. The type of men Aria had spent most of her teenage years avoiding. There was Ryker, the one with a criminal record he wore like a badge. Dark eyes, darker temper. Rumor said he once killed a man in a bar fight two towns over, though no one could prove it. Aria had seen the way he looked at people—lazy, slow, like he was measuring how much effort it would take to ruin them. Then there was Jace, the flirt. The charmer. The one who laughed too loudly and smirked too easily, always with a cigarette between his teeth. He was dangerous in a different way—dangerous because he knew he was attractive and used it like a weapon. And Lennox, quiet, unsettling Lennox. Sharp jaw, sharper stare. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, the room listened. There was something coiled beneath his calm exterior, something unpredictable, like a wild animal preending to sleep.