Chapter 2
Chapter Two
“Time to get your ass up!” A large and heavy body lunges in the air, then slams on the mattress beside me.
“Landon, what the hell?” I shove my brother away as he attempts to shake me awake, as if I could still be sleeping.
He sits up and bounces on the bed because he’s an obnoxious pain in the ass. My brother has scruffy auburn hair, and he’s dressed casual in a long-sleeved dark-green Carhart shirt and black athletic shorts. “Mom sent me to wake you up. It’s almost one p.m. How are you still sleeping?”
“Get out.” I yank my comforter up to block out the chill of the cold room. Landon’s rude wake-up interrupted a delicious dream starring Harlow I’d very much like to get back to.
“Mom said you didn’t get in until after two a.m., which is weird since I thought you told me your flight landed at nine. Did you get lost in the hour drive from the airport?” Landon waggles his eyebrows suggestively. He’s lucky I love him. Otherwise, I’d suffocate him under my pillow.
“Were you with Casey?” he asks.
“No, dumbass, she’s dating Dakota, remember? And she’s not even in town.”
Landon snaps his fingers and points at me. “Oh, yeah! Good for her.”
I nod in agreement. Casey is one of my oldest friends.
Spending the summers with Em and her on the lake are my happiest childhood memories—they make up my only happy childhood memories if I’m being honest. And while Casey and I had a friends with benefits situation that went on for years, I couldn’t be more excited for her that she’s finally with Dakota.
They’re one of those sickeningly cute couples you can’t help but adore.
“So, if you weren’t with her. Who were you with?” Landon pries. “I know you’re not sleeping in past noon. You’re a pilot! There’s no way you still get jet lag.”
“I’m not immune from jet lag.” I roll my eyes. “And, you know, just because you work with high schoolers doesn’t mean you need to act like one. Mind your business.”
Landon chuckles. “If you think this is bad, you should meet my students.”
My brother is an athletic trainer at a sports-heavy high school in Florida.
They are state champions in football, girls’ soccer, and softball.
Landon’s always been a huge jock and loves how busy work keeps him.
But it kind of sucks because, between his career and mine, we only see each other once or twice a year.
I miss his annoying ass. And it’s that thought that convinces me to drag myself out of bed.
“Fine. Run along and tell Mom I’m coming.” I shoo him toward the door. “And make me coffee, please.”
“Already brewing.”
“And that’s why you’re my favorite sibling.”
Landon winks. “As if it’s a competition.”
“Oh, fuck off, both of you,” our older sister Lucy says from the hallway. I didn’t know she was there, but, by Landon’s shit-eating grin, he did, and we both burst into laughter.
Lucy has five and six years on Landon and I, respectively. Growing up, my brother and I never wasted an opportunity to annoy the hell out of her. Now that we’re all adults, Landon and I still love to give Lucy shit. We’re just more creative.
“Love you!” I singsong to Lucy.
Lucy holds up her middle finger while walking away.
My laughter ebbs into a sigh. “She’s headed to spit in my coffee, isn’t she?”
“Glad you could finally join the land of the living,” Mom greets me after I pull on a loose-fitting long-sleeve and cozy, gray sweatpants. My long red hair is pulled up into a messy bun on top of my head.
“And you call me overdramatic,” I groan and approach the dining room table, steaming coffee mug in hand. We’ve had to adjust over the years, adding spots for Lucy’s husband, Greg, and Landon’s girlfriend, Taylor.
Everyone is already seated. I would acknowledge Greg, but he’s predictably staring at his phone, that he thinks he’s hiding, yet we all know is in his lap. He’s the serious and silent type. I can count on one hand how many conversations we’ve had one-on-one.
I give Dad a sideways hug from where he’s sitting at the head of the table, and he squeezes me back. “I made you your favorite.”
“My hero.” I beam while he hands me a plate with two bacon, egg, and cheese biscuits.
I smile at Taylor while sliding into the seat next to her. She reaches for a turkey and Swiss wrap and whispers, “Seriously though. Where were you last night?”
“You’re worse than your boyfriend,” I admonish, and she laughs. Taylor is an adorable short, blonde with the brightest smile and a cute, little button nose. I tell her all the time she’s too good for my brother, but she only ever smiles and shrugs.
“So, anyway,” Lucy says pointedly in my direction, “as I was saying.”
Lucy dives back into issues she’s been having with parents at her school. She’s a principal of a local elementary school and it’s the perfect career for her. I love my sister, but she’s uptight as hell with a constant need to be in control and micromanage everything.
Lucy’s tall, midsized, with long cherry-blonde hair. She always has a face full of makeup and is polished at all times in business casual. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she sleeps in pencil skirts.
“That’s amazing, sweetheart,” Mom says. Lucy is Mom’s mini me, except Mom’s relaxed her daily professional attire for a more casual look ever since she retired six months ago.
“How was your flight, hun?” Mom asks me.
Before I can answer, Dad says, “We would’ve loved to ask you last night, but you know I can’t keep my eyes open past eleven anymore.”
“Yeah.” Landon grins. “What time did you get in again? Ow!” he yelps as Taylor elbows him in the side.
I flash her a thankful smile—because, while Taylor will tease me privately, she knows I hate prying questions on my personal life in front of the entire family—and turn my attention on Mom. “My flight was fine. Smooth ride. And one of the pilots was a friend from flight school.”
“Oh, that’s so nice!” Mom says. “They fly out of Detroit? Maybe you could ask them if they’re hiring.”
Great. I walked right into that one.
“I have a job already, Mom,” I remind her. “And, for the hundredth time, that’s not how that works.”
I work for a regional airline that doesn’t have a base anywhere around here, and commuting from Michigan to California will obviously never be an option. Besides, I love my base. My mentor, Kelly Nelson, is there, and she’s an accomplished and talented pilot who I’ve learned so much from.
“Yes, but in California.” Mom predictably sighs. “Isn’t it so nice to be back together? With family?”
Mom glances wistfully around the table.
“Landon doesn’t live here either,” I point out.
Landon’s cheeks flush pink, and Taylor focuses on scooping a spoonful of macaroni salad on her plate as if it requires the same level of focus as landing a plane in vicious crosswinds.
“Regardless, I couldn’t be more thankful that all my children are here now,” Mom says, then cuts her gaze in Dad’s direction. “Especially since we have good news to share.”
“You’re not competing in another doubles tournament, are you?” Lucy asks, deadpan, and I hide my snort behind my fist.
My parents are not handling transitioning into the unstructured freedom of retirement well.
Mom is a business mastermind who built up her jewelry store into a small franchise with three locations.
Dad is a numbers guy and was the store’s accountant.
They sold it for a pretty penny—although neither will admit how pretty—and have been coming up with interesting ways to fill all the gaps in their never-before wide-open schedule.
Playing doubles tennis was their worst idea yet and resulted in Dad spraining his ankle.
They had to drop out of the tournament before they could finish their first set.
“Good god no,” Dad says. “Never again.”
“We’re selling the house!” Mom bursts and glances around the room with giddy excitement.
“Which house?” My siblings and I ask at the same time.
“The main house in Winston,” Dad answers.
“We’re moving in here permanently,” Mom adds.
Cool relief floods my veins, and my shoulders relax.
Despite only being about an hour away from our main house, the lake house is a respite.
It’s far enough away I never have to see anyone I grew up with or hear their shitty worldviews.
I’ve never shared this with my family, but I only come back for holidays when they are held at the lake house.
I refuse to set foot in Winston, and I couldn’t be more grateful I’ll never have to again.
“And good news: We already accepted an offer and will need to be out by the third. Which is perfect timing since you both are here,” Mom says while looking at Landon and me, “because you’ll have to clear out your old rooms.”
“Donate it all,” I say. “Or sell it. Or burn it. I don’t care.”
“Liliana.” Mom’s tone is exasperated. “Don’t be so dramatic. We can go together sometime this week and box some things up.”
I roll my eyes. “No. I’m serious. I don’t care what’s done with all my old stuff. I haven’t needed it in ten years, I don’t need it now.” I shrug and stand. “I’m going to shower.”
Mom tsks but doesn’t fight me on it. Then, almost as an afterthought, she reminds me, “Don’t forget Christmas cookies start in one hour.”
I flash a thumbs up over my shoulder, grateful she’s letting me go without more of a fight. But she’s lost her damn mind if she thinks I’m going back to Winston. I truly don’t care what happens to all my old stuff as long as I don’t have to go deal with it in person.
It’s a Lewis lady tradition to spend Christmas Eve baking enough cookies we can put Crumbl out of business. Mom and Lucy spend the first half hour arguing over their differing baking plans. We do this annually, you’d think they’d finally get on the same page, but here we are.
Taylor and I snack on mini chocolate chips as she attempts to convince me to watch some thriller TV show about a soccer team in the wilderness or something.
I don’t know. I don’t watch much TV, so I’ve never heard of it before, even though it’s apparently “super popular.” I can’t concentrate on her selling me on the show because my thoughts keep drifting back to last night.
It’s a damn shame I’m going to be so busy with my family while I’m in town, otherwise I’d reach out to her for a repeat.
Sex with Harlow was a mind-blowing experience.
I’m a sex positive person. I don’t yuck anyone’s yum.
And, while I’ve had many hookups and a couple casual relationships, I’ve never had someone put me in my place like she did. It was so hot.
I enjoy being a little bratty in bed. Being a woman in a male-dominated field who is gunning for captain, I never step a toe out of line.
I’m a team player, the first to volunteer, and an all-around model employee.
So, when I get the chance to talk back and challenge authority, I embrace it.
But the women I’ve been with always cave.
They let me get away with pushing back, and I usually take over control. But not with Harlow.
“Okay.” Mom sighs. “We can start with the peanut butter blossoms, but I still think we should work on the gingerbread cookies. The dough has been chilling for three hours now.”
Lucy groans. “We will get to them, Mom. Just trust me. Please.”
Taylor and I exchange knowing looks.
The doorbell rings, and Mom brightens. “Oh, she’s here!”
I frown. “Who?” But Mom has already taken off down the hall to answer it.
We don’t have any extended family in the area.
Uncle Steven and Dad don’t get along, so we rarely see them.
Grandpa is local, but he only comes over on Christmas Day.
It makes him too sad to see us baking without Grandma Shirley—the original Lewis woman to start the tradition—who passed away four years ago.
“Whoever they are, as long as they can follow simple instructions, I welcome them,” Lucy says while grabbing the flour.
“You’re going to love everyone,” Mom’s distant voice echoes from the hallway.
I grab a carton of eggs from the fridge while Mom introduces Lucy and Taylor to our mystery guest.
“And, of course, here’s Liliana,” Mom says, and I roll my eyes. Why she insists on using my full name, I’ll never understand.
“It’s Lily,” I say as I whirl around to introduce myself and freeze. The carton slips from my fingers and hits the tile with a string of cracks. Sticky, raw egg yolk explodes in every direction, including onto my bare feet.
“Lily!” my sister shrieks.
“Damn, there goes fifty dollars down the drain,” Taylor jokes.
But I barely hear either of them. I’m staring, open-mouthed at my mother’s guest in the entryway to the kitchen.
Harlow.