“No, I don’t really have time for much these days.”

Eric turns to me and his grin grows into a full smile before he wraps an arm around my shoulders and squeezes me to his chest. “I’m going to have to confiscate all these old T-shirts when you move into your apartment in the fall. I can’t believe you still have them!”

“I can’t believe she wears them!” Kendall chides. Kendall’s always up on every fashion sense, from hair to clothes to the latest nail trends.

I look down at my old track shirt, worn and washed to the point that it’s soft and comfortable and shrug with indifference.

“Hey, Ace, can I borrow you a sec?” Kyle calls from the open patio door.

It’s not that I feel awkward per se, I just haven’t felt at ease since Max Miller joined us on the patio, so without a second thought I follow Kyle in through the house without looking back.

“Want to try your skills at another window? The neighbor locked himself out.”

“Last time you guys did this, you nearly got your face bitten off by a Doberman.” Savannah eyes me wearily, standing in front of the door as a barricade.

“Which neighbor?” We turn to see Max approaching us, tucking his cell phone in the pocket of his jeans.

I should be paying attention to Kyle’s answer, but I’m too distracted wondering who Max was talking to, wondering if it was a girl, and if the same parade will return now that he’s back.

“You should be safe, then. He doesn’t have any dogs.” He winks at Savannah, causing an irrational pang of jealousy in my chest. “Come on, we’ll see if I can fit.” Savannah slowly moves, allowing us permission to exit, looking slightly dazed by Max’s charm.

“You won’t be able to fit, dude. It’s a bathroom window,” Kyle explains.

Max doesn’t seem to find it necessary to respond as we cross the street to the Janes’s and loop around to the backyard.

“Alright, Jack, I think I found our ticket in,” Kyle announces.

“Hey, Mr. Janes.” I smile in greeting.

“You went and got the prettiest one. What, are you trying to make me feel even worse?” Jack replies gruffly. I doubt he can actually tell us apart; he has a tough time recalling how many of us there are.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Janes, with four older sisters I was often used to test theories, and small spaces,” I tease.

“How come I haven’t seen many of you around lately?”

“They flock to the malls, like moths to the light,” Kyle jokes as his eyes travel to the side of the house landing on our point of entry—a small bathroom window that’s slid open. The bottom of it sits at least eleven feet from the ground.

“Mr. Janes, where’s your lovely wife?” Max’s eyes are fixed on the same window.

“Oh, she’s inside, asleep in front of the TV with her hearing aid turned off,” He grunts, shaking his head.

“Kyle! I think something’s wrong with Emily!” Mindi’s scream has us losing focus on the window, and turning to look at Kyle.

“She’s pregnant, and it hasn’t been a good day. I’m sure everything’s fine, but I should probably go check. Do you guys think you can handle this?” Kyle looks from me to Max apologetically before Mindi starts screaming his name again.

“We’ve got it covered,” Max assures him.

Kyle gives a weak smile and dashes out of sight.

“That isn’t from the pregnancy; she’s always been like that,” Jack mutters.

I smile and look over to see Max jump and grab the windowsill, watching as the muscles in his biceps and forearms become more prominent as he pulls himself toward the window with little exertion. I take the opportunity to study his left arm and the many tattoos that create a sleeve down to his elbow—a new addition to his appearance since leaving for Alaska. Max twists and tries to maneuver himself forward, but it’s quickly apparent that there’s no chance his shoulders are going to fit through the gap. He lowers himself back to the ground with a soft thud and looks over to me.

“Sorry, it looks like he was right. You sure you want to try this? I can go see if I can maneuver the locks or check other windows.” He looks down at me with reluctance apparent in his gaze.

“Kyle tried all that before going to get you kids.” Jack scratches his thinning gray hair as he looks over the back of his house. “I can just wait on the porch, eventually Ethel will wake up.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Janes. It’s no problem.” I assure him and turn my attention to Max. “I’m going to need your help though. I don’t think I’ll be able to pull off that Spiderman move.”

Max smirks and my breath catches seeing his eyes grow bright with humor. I consciously force myself to exhale, and then inhale again as I divert my attention back to the window that as I stand closer, appears higher.

“Alright, prepare to feel like Spiderman,” Max says, creating a stirrup with his hands. Using my right foot I pull myself up and shimmy my way through the narrow window, anchoring myself by gripping the side of the house and the window.

I’m directly over the bathtub, which is exactly what I’d been hoping wouldn’t be the case, because getting down will prove to be more of a challenge. I glance around the bird-themed room, trying to ascertain exactly how to ease my way in without face-planting in the bathtub and notice a small alcove where the soap and shampoo are nested. The cool tile tickles my fingertips as I reach toward the inlet. My muscles tense with the sudden panic that ensues as my grip on the windowsill slips. My stomach scrapes painfully against the windowsill as my hand rakes across the small space I’d been trying to reach in an attempt to brace myself, sending everything to the floor of the tub with an alarming crash. My scream echoes back at me as I feel Max’s hands grip my ankles stopping my descent.

I sigh in relief as the soap bottles continue to roll, clanging around the empty tub with the same loud volume that my heart beats.

A breeze rolls across my bare legs, and my skin, more sensitive to the cool air with the blood pulsating through my limbs from the adrenaline makes me abruptly aware of my short shorts, and uncomfortable positioning that has my butt and hips propped in the air.

“Are you okay? I’m pulling you out, this was a bad idea!” Max calls.

“I’m okay. Just a bruised ego.” My voice sounds strained and too loud from the pressure of the windowsill and the tile wall cutting into my stomach. “I just need to resituate.”

I carefully work to readjust myself, making sure to grip the house and windowsill so tightly my fingers ache as I slowly move and readjust until I have both feet dangling in the window. I reason that the easiest way in will be to jump the few feet inside and hope that I don’t slip.

My nerves from the near face-plant have me stalling a few breaths. The bathroom door flies open as I watch the shampoo bottle finally roll to a stop and see a flurry of purple and teal that causes my heart rate to speed up again. Thankfully my fingers are locked around the windowsill and frame from the first mishap, otherwise I would likely be on my backside in the tub right now. My focus clears to see all five foot nothing of Ethel Janes staring down at me from the end of a shotgun barrel aimed directly at my chest.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you’d better get out of my house before I shoot you!”

My eyes sweep over hair that’s tightly pulled up in curlers and her purple and teal housecoat, zeroing in on knotted and arthritis-bent fingers looking unsteady as they shakily rest on the trigger.

“Ace!” Max yells, grabbing at my backside from the ground.

“Ethel, put that goddamned gun down before you shoot yourself!” Jack yells.

I’m immobile from fear as I watch the wheels turn in her head.

“Ethel, it’s just Ace. She’s tryin’ to help. I locked myself out again!” Jack continues.

Ethel’s eyebrows knit in confusion, like she isn’t positive that it’s really her husband yelling at her. I fight to create a coherent explanation over the fear screaming in my head.