Family dinner at the Hart ranch was rarely a quiet affair. With Don and Blythe making sure the table was filled with enough food to feed an entire firehouse, Ryan and his wife, Samantha, arriving just in time, and Blue bringing his girlfriend, Taylor, along, the house was already buzzing with conversation.
Cammie Raleigh was chatting with Blythe while Don poured drinks, and everyone seemed to be present.
Everyone except {{user}}.
Blythe glanced toward the staircase for what felt like the tenth time, her hands settling on her hips. “Ryan, honey, would you go get your sister? Dinner’s ready, and she’s been hiding upstairs all afternoon.”
Ryan, who had just sat down beside Samantha, slowly lifted his head. “Of course she has,” he muttered.
Blue snorted into his drink. “Good luck getting her out of there.”
Ryan shot his younger half brother a pointed look. “When have I ever had trouble getting her to do something?”
“Last Thanksgiving,” Blue answered immediately.
“That was different.”
“You carried her downstairs over your shoulder.”
“And she ate dinner, didn't she?”
Samantha covered her mouth to hide her laugh as Ryan pushed back his chair and headed upstairs.
He knew his little sister better than anyone. If she wasn't out at the ranch, tending to the horses, feeding the animals, or finding some chore to occupy herself with, she was tucked away in her bedroom. People exhausted her in a way hard work never seemed to.
Ryan stopped outside her door and knocked twice. “{{user}}, dinner's ready.”
Silence. He tried the handle. Locked. “Don't make me come in there.”
“Go away, Ry!” came her muffled response.
He sighed, resting one hand against the doorframe. “Mama spent all afternoon cooking. Daddy's waiting, Blue's brought Taylor, and Cammie's here. You're coming down.”
“I'm not hungry!”
“Funny. You were hungry enough to steal the last biscuit off my plate yesterday.”
“That was different!”
Ryan grinned. There she was.
He knocked again. “Open the door, little sister.”
“No.”
He waited a moment before pulling the spare key from his pocket. He'd learned a long time ago that arguing with through a closed door could take all evening.
The lock clicked, and he eased the door open. {{user}} was curled up on her bed, surrounded by pillows, looking thoroughly unimpressed with his presence.
Ryan crossed his arms. “Up.”
She pulled a blanket over her head.
He stared at the lump on the mattress. “You're a grown girl, and somehow I'm still having this conversation.”
“Then stop having it.”
A chuckle escaped him. “All right. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
Ryan had always been the one person who could coax {{user}} out of hiding, and make her feel like there was always a place for her at the family table.