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Chapter One
Harbor
Returning to my parents’ house is a mixed blessing. I love my family, but my siblings are a pain in the butt. I am the last of five, with four older brothers. That’s a lot of testosterone to put up with. But it’s my mom’s birthday, and it’s a requirement for the Slater siblings to make an appearance. Not that it’s difficult for the boys. They all still live in Meadow Bay. I had to make the late-night commute from San Francisco.
After stepping out of the shower, I towel off and wipe the condensation off the mirror. Oops, that’s going to leave a mark.
I scrub the smudges off the mirror and frown. Why is it that when you go home, you turn into an irresponsible kid? I’d never smudge my own mirror. But on instinct, I reverted to my teenage ways of leaving a dirty glass on the kitchen counter last night after downing a glass of milk, and now, smearing the mirror.
What’s next? Sneaking out in the middle of the night to hang out with my best friend in the tree house, smoke cigarettes, and drink cheap alcohol.
Laughter from the backyard draws my attention to the activities down below. My brothers and several of their friends sprint across the green grass as Ledger, my oldest brother, arches a ball above everyone’s head and drops it into Cole Thornburg’s outstretched hands.
The ease of their connection is from years of playing backyard football because they were never all on the field together in school due to the age gap between them.
Cole grins as he shoves Weston, the second oldest brother, out of the way and sprints to the makeshift goal line. The rest of Cole’s team rushes to him with high fives and back slaps that would hurt a lesser man. But with Cole’s 6’3” frame, bulging muscles, and cocky attitude, you’d never see him flinch.
Austin, brother number three, punches him in the gut as Connor, the baby of the boys, elbows Weston in the back while racing toward the other guys. The physical contact between them is so hard that it’s surprising I can’t hear it from my vantage point. When he reaches Cole, he shoves Austin out of the way and high-fives his best friend.
Connor and Cole have been inseparable since kindergarten, so Cole has always had a place at our house. My parents’ house.
I frown and turn away from the window. There’s no use feeling envious of their connection. I was the pesky sister and never willingly allowed into their reindeer games. Unfortunately, my parents forced them to let me play until they were too muscular, and then they were afraid I’d get hurt.
And their friends? I wasn’t allowed to look at them or talk to them after I turned thirteen. Not that any of their friends wanted anything to do with me. They were into girls with big boobs and short shorts. And I dressed like a tomboy and played sports. Hell, I didn’t develop until I was a junior in high school.
My bedroom hasn’t changed. It still has a bookcase full of school awards and photos of me with my friends. My graduation cap and tassel are on the top shelf, along with the yearbooks and salutatorian award for my scholastic efforts. In between being told I was stupid for trying to be one of the boys, disgusting for looking at their friends, and growing boobs, I did a lot of studying.
The next shelf boasts my track medals. By the time I was nine months old, I was walking and only got faster as I aged. My mom said it was because I couldn’t wait to be like my brothers and do everything they could. I played softball, flag football, basketball, soccer, everything except real football. They didn’t let girls play back then.
Once I’m dressed, I traipse down the stairs, tired of hiding out to avoid Cole. Of all my brothers’ friends, he was the one I couldn’t ignore. No one can ignore him. He’s gorgeous, athletic, charming, and an all-around good guy.
He’s the type of guy who helps old ladies carry their groceries and rescues kittens from trees. Those skills must have been part of the fireman test. And it doesn’t hurt that he looks like he could sling a girl over his shoulder and rescue her from a burning building.
Not that I know his charm firsthand. I’m the idiot that can’t form a coherent sentence around him.
“It’s about time you made it downstairs.” My mom glances at me while chopping a green pepper. “I thought you were going to hibernate upstairs all weekend.”
“No.” I shrug. “I got in late and slept in.” She continues to slice the vegetables as I wrap my arm around her shoulders and squeeze them. “Happy birthday, Mom.”
“Thank you, dear.” She beams and kisses my cheek. “I’m so happy to have you all here for my special day.”
“I am, too.” I clutch her tighter and let go. “Do you need any help with anything?”
“Yes.” She tips her head toward the sink. “I have some more vegetables and a tomato that needs to be washed.”
“Sure.” I make quick work of the cleaning, grab a knife and cutting board, and chop into the tomato.
My mom sighs and holds the knife steady as she watches me work. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.” I smile at her before returning to the plump, ripe tomato. The seeds and juices slide down to the white cutting board. “It’s good to be here.”
And it is. My parents’ house is homey. It’s warm and welcoming and smells like baked goods and eggs. I inhale. Today, it smells like cake and homemade potato salad. My parents are health conscious, but they believe in celebrating everyone’s birthdays. They claim it’s because they love a full house, but I think it’s an excuse to indulge in sweets on a nearly bi-weekly basis. By the time there are grandchildren, there’ll be cake every day.
I bite my bottom lip and return to the tomato. Never mind. At this rate, they aren’t going to have grandchildren. None of us is close to finding “The One.” Okay, none of my brothers are even looking.
“You know you could move back here.”
“Mom.” My head snaps upward to meet her gaze as she looks pointedly at me. “I’m not moving back home.”
