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“Here we are,” Riley sighed as she pulled into the circle driveway of our parents’ stone and cedar shingle home. It sat atop three acres of lush grass and overlooked the water. Normally, the sight of the green and the leaves hummed some kind of calm into my veins. But today, the anxiety sitting on my chest stubbornly refused to go away, no matter what I did. Parking the car, Riley sighed again. “Well. Whatever’s going on inside that head of yours, Sash, you better shut that down now. If it’s about me, I told you I never made Natalie pull that stupid stunt last week, and if it’s not about that, then you gotta chill, ‘cause you’re not the only one with shit going on. Okay? We all have to put on a happy face for the holidays, even if we don’t want to, so move your ass,” she said, unbuckling my seatbelt. “It’s time for some good ol’ Blakely-Cage family bonding.”
“Yeah. Definitely.” I mustered up whatever strength I had as I checked my reflection in the mirror. Despite the mental state I’d been in this morning, I still managed to put together the kind of look I knew my mom liked to see – hair up, light mascara, nude lipstick and some cardigan belted over a dress and tights. Riley had on a similar get-up, and if I weren’t so emotionally off kilter, I’d have laughed at how matchy-matchy we looked walking up to the front door of our parents’ house.
“There they are.” Greeting us was Liam’s father, Vic. Instinctively, Riley and I straightened up. We were seventeen and nineteen by the time we met him, and he was a man of very few words, but as a six-five former gunnery sergeant, he had a way of commanding respect. “Riley. Sash.” Vic actually two-armed our hugs, and I had to smile at his effort, though it felt like being embraced by a copper statue. “Good to see you both. How was the ride?”
“Long,” Riley said bluntly. “Mom cooking?”
“She is. I’m sure she could use your help.”
Riley pointed her fingers like a gun at Vic and winked. “Join you later for cigars in the shed,” she grinned before taking my hand and pulling me into the kitchen with her. “If I’m stuck helping with this shit, so are you,” she whispered before putting on her perfect daughter smile as we entered the kitchen. “Hello, Mumsy,” she trilled.
“Hi, hello!” My mother said in the midst of emptying the oven. She had on one of her hundreds of floral boat neck tops, which she always paired with beige cigarette pants. Her short blonde hair, usually worn in a bob, was twisted in a perfect little chignon today. My mother was beautiful. That was undeniable. Her razor sharp cheekbones were visible even from behind, and age had done virtually nothing to the looks she had always been proud of.
I couldn’t help my usual wonder about whether she’d have liked me better if I took after her the way Riley did. “Just getting ready to turn this kitchen into a big, beautiful mess,” she chuckled as she turned around, her smile radiant. But the second her eyes landed on me, it faltered. “Oh. Sasha.”
“Figured you could use another set of hands,” Riley ignored the tension between us as usual. I cleared my throat.
“Hi, Mom.” The smile that stretched my lips felt unnatural. I generally forgot how to talk and move like a human being around my mother, and could barely remember the last time I felt at ease with her. I always tried to tell myself that I was the one being sensitive, but today, she was doing less than usual to help me prove that. My heart dropped as I watched her turn back to the oven.
“Hi, Sasha.” Her greeting came without eye contact. “So, did Travis change his mind at all about coming?” Mom promptly returned her attention to Riley. “I hate the thought of him being home alone on Thanksgiving.”
“Mother, I told you he’s contagious. He can’t come,” Riley said flatly as something in the corner of my eye caught my attention.
My pulse jumped to my throat when I looked outside.
It was Liam.
My mouth dropped, and my heart skipped a beat when I laid eyes on him in the backyard, chugging water from a bottle and looking like a lumberjack in his dirty white T-shirt and scuffed jeans. It was a crisp fifty degrees out but he made it look like the middle of July with sweat beading his hairline, his cotton tee soaked in sweat from what looked like a ton of hauling and hand-sawing.
“Whoa-ly shit, did Liam just redo the stairs on your deck?” Riley exclaimed when she noticed. “Damn, Sash – you see that shit? Paul Bunyan out there.”
“Yeah,” I said casually. But my heart pounded in my ears as I watched Liam through the glass. His biceps flexed and his muscles strained against his shirt, but his face was blank and stoic, making him look effortless in his every move. I stared especially at his arms and his chest – the parts of his body that I was used to feeling close to me at night. I wanted to just run outside and bury myself against his warmth. I wanted so badly to feel his hands rubbing my back, comforting me in the way that only he knew how. But all I could do was stand there and fake nonchalance despite the heartache churning in my chest.
“What – who the hell is that?” Riley’s voice pierced my ear just as my eyes registered the lithe figure of a strange girl keeping Liam company outside. She had his checkered shirt wrapped around her as she handed him a thermos to drink from. When she took Liam’s hand and rubbed up on his arm, Rily gasped. “Seriously, who the fuck is that?”
“Language,” Mom scolded.
I ignored them both, my eyes unblinking as I watched the display. I very vaguely recognized the girl. She had to be someone I saw at Junction Pub every year around the holidays. Something about her wild, honey-blonde waves registered in my memory, but that was all.
“Don’t watch that. Give them privacy,” Mom said tartly.
“Who is that?” Riley pressed on.
“You know her. The Daltons across the street? That’s their younger daughter.”
Riley’s jaw dropped. “That’s Maddy Dalton’s little sister? She was like, five-foot-nothing the last time I saw her!”
“Well, she’s clearly not anymore,” Mom said smartly.
“Did you set this up?”
“I invited her over is what I did. I wanted Natalie Mathis to come over, since she’s a bit more age appropriate for him, but Liam said he didn’t want to see her. So this is the effort I’ve put forth, and maybe he’ll find some interest in Bree. She’s very pretty.”
It was true. My jaw tightened as I slowly remembered Bree. She was a freshman when I was a senior in high school. During some holidays, she snuck into Junction with a fake ID and ran her mouth about how she could drink us all under the table. Back then, she was a tiny little thing and wore her big hair in a sloppy ponytail. Now, she looked about four inches taller and dressed head to toe in bright, skintight workout gear.
“Oh geez, I totally remember this brat.” Riley wrinkled. “Mom, are you trying to hook Liam up with a child? ‘Cause this girl’s like, barely fuckin’ twenty-one.”
“I swear to God about that language, Riley Faith,” Mom warned tightly. “And again, it’s not my business to speak for Liam, but if he decided to start seeing Bree Dalton, I for one couldn’t be happier. She’s a lovely girl,” she said firmly before heading off for the stairs.
