12. Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Caroline
T he creaky front door to the lake house feels heavier than I remember as I swing it open. Either I’m getting weak because all I do is sit behind a desk and study, or I’m in such a daze from the past twelve hours that my body is no longer functioning properly.
I drop my Weekender bag on the entryway floor, leaving the door open for Weston as I scan the too-quiet space. I offered to help unload the car, but he told me to go ahead while he tried to settle Carter down.
It’s almost ten in the morning, so I figured everyone would be up by now. They should be up by now, considering the caterers are supposed to be here by noon, according to Cassidy’s meticulously detailed schedule.
Right as I’m about to yell for someone to come help with the bags, my sister comes barreling down the stairs in a pink satin pajama set.
Claire stops herself right before she runs into me, juggling a pack of IV tubing in one hand and a massive bag of saline in the other.
“Oh, hey,” she chirps, her lips curling into a smirk that promises trouble. “Nice of you to finally join us.”
I shouldn’t be surprised that she decided to choose violence rather than offering me a simple greeting. It’s par for the course with an older sister who loves to stir the pot.
“What happened in here?”
Solo cups litter the hardwood floors, half-empty suitcases line the knotty pine walls, and streams of toilet paper hang like festive garlands from the antler chandelier. Clearly they didn’t waste any time yesterday before they got the party started.
Claire ignores my question, her face twisting as she looks me over. “What happened to you ? You look terrible.”
A crying baby who couldn’t be soothed for the last leg of our drive this morning—that’s what happened.
I have no idea how people with kids do it. I wasn’t even in the back seat managing Carter’s inconsolable wails, but I was more stressed than I’ve been in my life. It was like my body was in a constant state of tension, and I couldn’t do anything to relieve it. And as fucked up as it sounds, all I could think about for two hours was the fact that I was grateful that this wasn’t my life. That there was an end in sight. Because as cute as Carter is, I’m just not cut out for motherhood.
At least not yet.
I glance over my sister’s shoulder at the mirror above the entryway table.
She’s right—I do look terrible. The only thing that makes me appear remotely presentable is the oversized blue button-down that I tucked into a pair of pleated white shorts. Otherwise, I’ve definitely seen better days because my hair is so frizzy that it could have gotten me cell service last night, and the bags under my eyes are so dark that I could realistically be mistaken for a raccoon.
“Thanks, C. Really feeling the love,” I reply, letting out an exhausted sigh. “Where is everyone?”
“Big boy is still asleep,” she says, glancing up the stairs toward her bedroom. “He needs to get his beauty rest before his big debut as a wedding officiant today.”
“I was thinking more like the bride and groom.”
I’m sure my tone sounds snippy, but I don’t mean it to be. I just feel guilty that I’m here later than I intended, and I want to make sure Cassidy and Parker have what they need to have the best day possible . . . well, I want to make sure Cassidy has the best day possible. My brother is still on the top of my shit list.
“Ohhhh. Why didn’t you just say so?” My sister’s mouth tilts into a teasing grin. “They’re on the screened-in porch with Morg and Walker.”
I’m about to brush past her when she steps to the side, positioning her body in front of mine. She bats her full lashes at me several times, giving me a suspicious look.
“What?” I cross my arms defensively even though I have nothing to be defensive about.
“Have you finally decided that you want to form an alliance with me? Because you know, I’m totally down to vote P off the island. All you have to do is say the word.”
I roll my eyes, even though I’m secretly thankful that this is about Parker and not Weston. The irritation I’m feeling for my brother is much easier to process than the conflicting emotions for the man who just walked through the door behind me.
Before I can respond, Claire lets out a shrill squeal.
“Oh my god, who the fuck is that?” She rushes past me, completely forgetting about her offer to put our family on a reality TV show. “Oh, sorry, I mean freak. Who the freak is that?”
I turn in their direction and can’t help but laugh at the way my sister is jumping up and down in front of Carter. Weston isn’t looking at her, though, his hazel eyes are glued on me, almost like he’s silently asking if I’m okay after the chaotic drive we had.
I give him a quick nod and gesture that I’m going to head toward the back of the house to find the others, not waiting for his response.
On my way through the kitchen, my eyes snag on a few bottles of champagne on the counter, and I promise myself that once I say hello to everyone, I’m going to come back inside and pour myself a massive glass of champagne. There’s no need to pretend that the orange juice is a necessary mimosa ingredient at this point in my life—I’ve evolved past watering things down.
The first person I see when I walk through the screen door is my sister-in-law.
Cassidy is sipping her coffee at the wrought-iron table that overlooks the back deck, looking stunningly bridal in her silky white PJ set. A beam of morning sunshine peeks through the clouds and lands on her cheek right as she looks up at me with a warm smile.
“I’m so glad you made it,” she says excitedly, pushing back her chair to greet me. “I have a matching pajama set for you upstairs.”
I force my lips into a grin, keeping my attention on my angelic sister-in-law because if I let myself look at her groom, they’re bound to twist into a scowl. And Cassidy doesn’t deserve that on her wedding day . . . not in front of her, at least.
“Me too.” I pull her into a quick hug before stepping back and taking her in. “You’re glowing, Cass. How do you feel?”
She laughs, running her fingers through her shiny blonde hair. “Trust me, I definitely did not wake up like this. I’ve been up for a few hours already, letting Morg and Claire work their magic.”
I glance at Morgan, needing her to work her magic on me too. She’s curled up into a tight ball in the chair beside Cassidy’s with her arms flung over her face, and definitely looks like she’s seen better days.
Cassidy leans in with a whisper. “Well, Morg just kind of directed from the toilet.”
“Who’s ready to get hung?” Claire asks, tearing open the plastic covering on a bag of saline as she walks backward through the door like she’s a surgeon entering the OR.
I arch my brow. “Really helping with that IV fluid shortage, C.”
Our school sent out an email about the saline shortage last week, something about hurricanes and supply chain issues. Hospitals are conserving it like liquid gold, but clearly, Midtown Memorial didn’t get the memo.
Claire rolls her bright-blue eyes.
“Chill, princess,” she snipes, knowing it will piss me off as she pads toward Morgan’s pitiful body slumped at the table. “Morgie is hungover. And I need the practice.”
She glances at Parker and Walker on the opposite side of the table. “Oh, and I told Wes that you guys would help him unload, by the way. He has more luggage than I do.”
“Well, he is traveling with two people, so I would hope so,” Parker deadpans as he stands from his chair.
“P.” I snap and point at my brother to get his attention. “When you’re done, we need to have a little chat.”
I give him the most angelic smile I can muster but narrow my eyes to let him know that I’m serious.
While my anger has definitely cooled off in the past twelve hours, I still plan to let Parker know that he doesn’t get to pull something like that again. He might not know the specifics behind my distaste for Weston—and he never will—but he does know better than to treat me like that.
Claire grins as she wraps a blue tourniquet around Morgan’s arm. “Oooo . . . someone’s in trouble.”
I glare at my sister. “Claire. Stop. Parker. I’ll meet you down at the boathouse when you’re done.”
My brother sighs, but he doesn’t argue as he follows Walker toward the door.
Cassidy shakes her head and looks at me with genuine remorse. “For the record, I told him not to do it.”
“Me too,” Morgan pipes up.
She’s about to add something, but she winces and inhales sharply as Claire misses her vein.
“Thanks guys,” I say with a thin smile as I open the door to step outside. “But you know what they say . . . you can lead a horse to water, tell him he’s thirsty, and even splash it in his face, but sometimes he still won’t drink.”
***
T he spiral stairs creak as I climb them to the upper deck of the boathouse.
I’ve always preferred spending time up here because the views of the Appalachian Mountains are the best on the property. The lush greens that give way to an assortment of reds, yellows, and oranges in the fall have always made the background noise in my mind go silent. It’s the place where I feel most at peace, and that peace is what I’m desperately trying to channel before I face my brother.
I walk towards the edge of the balcony and wrap my arm around one of the massive wooden posts, leaning on it for support as I let my gaze drift over the water in our secluded cove.
Joy-filled memories with my family should be what I focus on, but for some reason, all I can think about is Weston. How he found it amusing to catch me by surprise and toss me into the water while I was tanning on the deck. Or how he would hide my phone in obscure locations around the house and claim that I was losing my mind. It was like he was constantly trying to get my attention, even though I made it abundantly clear that my attention was the last thing I wanted to give him.
Parker’s heavy footsteps across the worn wood pull me out of my head, and I feel my shoulders tense because I’ve never actually formally confronted my brother like this before.
“So,” he says carefully, his tone cool and composed like usual. “Want to tell me why you’re upset?”
I take a deep breath and turn to face him.
He’s leaning against the opposite knotty pine post with his arms crossed defensively like he’s expecting me to yell. Which I almost do until I drag my gaze to meet his and only see concern swimming in the deep blue depths of his eyes.
“You really don’t know?”
His brows dip in confusion. “Know what? When I talked to you yesterday afternoon, everything was fine.”
“You asked me to pick something up. Not someone . Those are two very different things.”
I can hear the way my tone changes, but I can’t stop myself because it feels so fucking good. It feels good to stop placating our relationship to avoid conflict. To put myself and my feelings first for once.
“Woah, woah, woah,” he laughs, talking to me like I’m some sort of skittish horse he’s trying to break. “Carol, calm down for a second.”
The pounding of my rapidly escalating pulse echoes in my ears, drowning out my ability to hear anything other than my own rage.
“Don’t tell me to calm down, Parker Andrew Winters. And stop calling me Carol. You know I hate that name.”
My brother raises his hands like he’s surrendering.
“I’m sorry,” he offers, his expression softening just enough to disarm me. “You’re right. I should have just asked if you would drive Wes up. But to be fair . . . I thought you were fine with him because you stood up for him when we talked.”
I scoff because his rationale doesn’t surprise me one bit.
“Just because I told you that you were being a dumbass, doesn’t mean I’m on good terms with Wes. And it definitely doesn’t mean that I just forgot how he treated me every summer.”
Parker sighs heavily, dragging a hand down his face. “He didn’t. He was just—”
“Don’t,” I snap, cutting him off before he can finish. “Don’t take his side. Don’t gaslight me. Just don’t.”
I feel the telltale sting of emotion rising in my throat, my lower lip threatening to betray me, but I push through it, forcing the words out.
“You have no idea what it was like. How he constantly undermined me and made me feel like I was some sort of uptight, unlikable joke. How he made me question if I was good enough. And how much it hurt when everyone—including you—just laughed along with him.”
My words hang in the air between us, and I feel a wave of relief wash over me because I didn’t realize how deeply seeded my emotions were until I said them out loud.
For my entire life, everyone saw the version of myself that I was desperately trying to portray—the placating, overachieving younger sister who did everything she could to make her family proud. Everyone but Weston. It was like my perfectly crafted facade was invisible to him, and he seemed to relish in that. To relish in my imperfections.
Parker rubs the back of his neck, his gaze dropping to the weathered planks beneath his feet. “I didn’t realize you felt like that. I thought . . . I thought maybe he was flirting with you, or something. You know he’s not serious about anything he says or does.”
I let out a long exhale. “I honestly have no idea what I believe anymore.”
Weston and I might have made some progress yesterday—maybe even more than I expected—but that doesn’t undo the pain he caused over the years. And being here, surrounded by those memories, seems to stir everything up like the sediment at the bottom of this murky lake.
“P,” I say, finding my voice again as I redirect the conversation. “This isn’t about Wes. It’s about you . And how you lied to me. How you did something without talking to me because you thought you knew better.”
Parker’s lips twitch as he looks up at me, like he can’t resist himself despite the guilt clouding his expression. “Well, that’s because I usually do.”
I narrow my eyes at him, unimpressed by his joke.
“Okay, okay,” he says quickly like he’s finally realizing that I’m not in the mood, and he’s skating on thin ice.
“Listen, I really am sorry, Carol—Caroline,” he corrects himself with a sheepish smile. “I mean it. I screwed up, and it won’t happen again.”
I don’t fight him as he steps forward to pull me into a hug.
“It better not,” I warn as I lean into his embrace. Because despite everything, despite all of his flaws and infuriating tendencies, he’s still my big brother.
“For what it’s worth,” he says, his voice muffled against my hair, “I’m proud that you didn’t kill each other.”
I pull back just enough to glare at him, though the corner of my mouth betrays me with the hint of a smile. “You should be proud I didn’t kill you. ”