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I swallowed past the scratchy lump that formed in my throat. Every year it was the same text on my birthday and an almost identical one at Christmastime. No phone call, no card, no visit—just the text.
The Weavers were good people. They had taken me in as a child after being bounced around the state of Michigan’s foster care system. I knew how lucky I was to end up with them in Outtatowner.
Their daughter, Margo, was my age. She was enthusiastic and welcoming, and we instantly became unlikely best friends. Margo was fun and popular and basked in being the center of attention. At that time, all I wanted was to fade into the background, but she wouldn’t let that happen. She and her family took me in and gave me hope for a future I had always thought was for girls who didn’t come from broken homes.
Trouble was that the Weavers weren’t looking for another daughter, and after Margo passed away, it was too painful for them to remain in the town that held so many memories of her.
Without a second thought, the only parents I had ever known up and moved. The only remaining contact I had was a single text on my birthday and one on Christmas Eve.
My phone rang, and a picture of Kate’s smiling face lit up the screen. I immediately released the breath I’d been holding and infused my voice with false cheeriness.
“Hey!” I answered.
“Oh shit. Are you crying?”
Damn it.
Kate and I were close. Before she had moved to Montana—before Lee stepped into the role—I would have considered her my best friend.
“No, I’m good.” I cleared my throat. “Sorry.”
“Okay, well, everything is set for tonight. We’re going to be at Tootie’s—have a few drinks down in the speakeasy, then move on up to the back patio. Everyone’s going to be there. We are all so excited!”
“Wait, wait, stop. What are you talking about?”
Kate groaned in exasperation. “Your birthday, silly. We’re all ready to celebrate!”
Fresh tears prickled beneath my eyelids. “Oh, I didn’t know if you—”
“You didn’t think we weren’t going to celebrate your birthday, did you?” Kate interrupted.
It was true. The Sullivans celebrated my birthday every year without missing a beat. It started with their mother, June, who loved to throw parties. I think she saw my sad little existence as an excuse to be surrounded by children and the town she loved so much.
As a child, birthdays with the Weavers were quiet, understated affairs of a birthday cake, candles, and a single present. At the time, it felt like more than enough.
But as I got older, I realized that the way the Sullivans wrapped themselves around you was the greatest gift I could imagine. Things fell apart for a while after June died, and got even worse when Red got sick, but for the past year, with both Wyatt and Kate returning home, things had started to turn a corner.
Gatherings with the Sullivans weren’t quite so strained these days, and everyone was finding their groove. That groove also included me, and I had never felt more loved. Whether they knew it or not, the Sullivans were the only family I had.
Which was why I certainly should not be thinking of Lee Sullivan in anything other than brotherly terms.
A renewed sense of love and belonging washed over me. With them, all was right in the world.
I smiled for real this time. “What time should I show up?”
* * *
Arrivingat Tootie Sullivan’s house when a gathering was in full swing was like stepping directly into swirling chaos. Chickens pecked at the grass, Duke Sullivan’s dog—aptly named Three-Legged Ed—chased any car that turned down the driveway, and soft, upbeat music played from a speaker.
The Sullivan farmhouse had recently been transformed by Kate and Beckett. What had started as a renovation to rehab the crumbling structure had taken on a life of its own. Kate launchedHome Again, an Instagram page documenting the historical renovation, and it went viral. The virality was one part home renovation andfifty partswatching Kate’s ex-boyfriend’s grumpy older brother fall head over heels in love with her, one post at a time.
*Le sigh.*
As I navigated down the driveway, I tried my best to not turn the dog into Two-Legged Ed. Beckett pulled Kate into a loving embrace and buried his nose in her brown hair. My chest pinched. I was so happy for my sweet friend.
I parked my car next to Kate’s Jeep and hopped out.
“There she is!” Ms. Tootie’s loving voice rose above the chatter and music as she made her way toward me.
