Jace
"For fucksake, Jacy, sit down!" Luce sighed at me as I turned in my pacing, pausing to look at her. Her long hair was pushed back, her fingers constantly moving through it with worry, her bite-proof jacket was slung over the arm of the chair she sat on and her steel-capped boot thudded with every impatient tap of her foot.
She didn't often call me Jacy, a childhood nickname existing only because she added a y to almost every word she said that had meaning to her when she was two and Jax and I were five. Twenty three years later, she hadn't changed, using it when she wanted to be a brat-kid-sister, or she was feeling vulnerable and wanted to lash out in a way that wasn't harmful, knowing I hated it.
"I'll sit down when Melody's in my lap," I growled at her, no real heat in my voi
