Chapter 29 Home is Where the Chaos Is
Home is Where the Chaos Is
MILLIE
I always sleep at my parents’ house the night before family pictures.
It’s become a tradition. A small tradition that, over the years, has kept us all connected.
Since we’ve all grown up and moved out, this is the one time each year when we are all together—under one roof, in the place where it all began.
The night before family photos is the only night that feels like nothing’s changed.
The chaos of everyone’s schedules, the distance between us, as we lead our adult lives—it all disappears, and it’s as if we’re kids again, sneaking glances at each other in the living room, trying to guess what game we’ll play before mom insists on getting everyone to bed early.
When I pull into the driveway of my parents’ house, I immediately feel a sense of relief was over me. It’s like a comfort blanket wrapped around me with the promise of home. There’s no place like it, especially now that life feels so…different.“Mom, Dad? I’m here!” I call as I open the front door.
I’m greeted by the soft sound of laughter coming from somewhere in the house. It’s warm, inviting. The kind of laughter that’s become synonymous with this place.
The kitchen is empty, and so is the living room. The only place left to check is the game room downstairs.
I take the steps down to the basement, my footsteps echoing through the quiet. The muffled voices grow louder, and I hear Kenna and my brother, Asher, arguing about something. Their voices are raised, but it’s all familiar.
“Fine, you choose, Kenna,” Asher says, but the sarcasm in his tone is unmistakable. “I swear you can’t let anyone have a turn around here.”
“Not this time, buddy,” Kenna retorts, her voice firm, but there’s a playful edge to it. “The youngest siblings get to decide for once.”
I roll my eyes and deadpan, “Come on Ashe, let the babies of the family decide since the oldest siblings are acting like children.”
I open my arms for hugs as I step into the room, and everyone in the game room freezes.
Their heads snap toward me, and then, like a magnet pulling them in, they rush over, engulfing me in a sea of arms. The warmth of my siblings, the closeness of being surrounded by people who’ve always been there for me is exactly what I need right now.
“Beanie,” Asher says, using the nickname he’s called me since I was a kid. “That only worked when we were little.”
I chuckle and shake my head, moving past him to give Mom and Dad a hug.
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. Missed you guys,” I whisper, my voice a little softer than usual. The weight of what happened with Gabriel is still there, tucked in the corners of my mind. But here, in this moment, it’s a relief to be surrounded by loved ones.
My family is everything to me. We’ve always been close, and even now that we’re adults, living our own lives and facing our own challenges, we still come together for moments like these. We make the effort because that’s what matters.
“Well, I guess Rue will get no choice in anything since he isn’t even here. And I’m starving!” Kenna exclaims, looking around for something to snack on.
Reuben, or Rue as we call him, has always been the laid-back one of the bunch. He’s the sibling closest to Kenna, and they’ve always shared a special bond. Me? I’m closest to Asher. We get each other in a way no one does.
Lucie, on the other hand, is the wildcard—the one who can charm anyone in the room with just a simple smile. It’s hard to stay mad at her, no matter what she does.
We settle in the living area, and we break out the board games.
Laughter fills the room as we play, the same banter I’ve known all my life flowing freely.
It’s moments like this that remind me how much I love my family.
We get competitive, sure, but there’s no pressure. Just pure joy in each other’s company.
Lucie wins, of course. The reigning champion.
“You guys just can’t handle how amazing I am,” she says, flipping her hair back dramatically, the smirk on her face a dead giveaway.
Asher, never one to let things go lightly, hurls a pillow at her.
“Ash, stop. You’re right, Lulu we can’t handle it. But that doesn’t mean we have to act like children when we lose, right?” Kenna states, giving him a pointed look.
The whole room bursts into laughter.
These are the nights that stitch you back together when life pulls you apart.
Reuben walks in then, bearing bags full of favorite foods. The smell of freshly baked bread, marinara sauce, and Italian herbs fill the air, making everyone groan with hunger. It’s a carb lovers dream and also the exact kind of love language this family understands.
“Okay, I can’t wait any longer. Let’s eat or I’ll riot,” Kenna says, and we dive into the spread.
We pile into the kitchen and attack the spread like wolves.
Plates fill fast, and conversation flows even faster.
Old stories resurface—Asher’s infamous treehouse fall, Lucie’s glitter-glued diary pages, Kenna’s brief obsession with becoming a ventriloquist. There’s teasing, laughter, full-belly joy.
And for a while, nothing hurts.
Eventually, as the night winds down, people scatter to their childhood bedrooms like it's a sleepover. Mom sets out fresh towels. Dad checks that all the doors are locked—twice.
I’m in my old room, fluffing a pillow that still smells vaguely like teenage rebellion, when Kenna pushes the door open without knocking.
“Mills, talk to me,” she says, shutting the door.
I look up, forcing a smile. “Talk about what?”
“Gabriel,” she says lifting a brow.
I sigh, pushing my comforter back. I know Kenna means well, but sometimes, her persistence is more of a pressure cooker than a support system. But Kenna doesn’t give up. She never does.
“Ken, I told you there’s nothing to talk about.”
“Nope,” she cuts in, crossing her arms and sitting at the foot of the bed. “You’ve been weird all night. Quiet. You have that face on. The ‘I’m fine but secretly falling apart’ face.”
I glance down, trying to dodge the weight of her gaze. “I told you, we’re trying to work things out. I just…need more time.”
Kenna sits on the bed, crossing her arms. “Yeah, you’ve been needing time for weeks. At some point, you have to call it what it is. Either you’re in, or you’re not. Why are you making it harder than it needs to be?”
Her words sting. Not because they’re harsh, but because they’re true. She’s never been one to sugarcoat. And she’s not wrong.
“I just…said things that I don’t know if I can take back,” I admit. “Harsh things. And I don’t know how to fix that. I don’t even know if I should.”
Kenna watches me for a moment, and then her voice softens. “You’re scared, Mills. You’ve been scared of letting yourself be happy. Ever since you ended things with Connor.
I flinch at the name.
“You put walls up so high around your heart that even when someone as patient and kindhearted as Gabriel has to clime them blindfolded.”
“I’m not trying to push him away,” I whisper. “But what if I already did?”
Kenna shakes her head. “Gabriel loves you. Anyone with eyes can see how down bad that man is for you. And you love him too, don’t you?”
I hesitate.
She stares me down. “Don’t lie. I know you.”
The silence between us is like a rope pulled too tight.
Kenna doesn’t let up. “You can’t let fear ruin this. You two are perfect together. You deserve this, Millie. You deserve him.”
“I do,” I finally whisper. “I love him.”
She exhales like she’s been holding her breath. “Then why are you sabotaging it?”
I sit up straighter, voice sharper than I intend. “I’m not the only one scared, Ken. Gabriel’s not exactly Mr. Emotionally Available. And while we’re on the subject, maybe you should stop giving advice you don’t take yourself.”
Kenna cocks her head to the side, confused. “Excuse me?”
My heart skips a beat as the words leave my mouth before I can stop them. “Oh, come on, Kenna. You’ve been pushing me to “let go and love’ when you’ve had the same problems for years. At least Gabriel is here, showing me that he cares. But you? You’ve been running from your feelings for years.”
I can see the immediate shift in her face, the defensiveness she always puts up, crumbling for just a second. “I’m not running from anything,” she says, but the words don’t sound as confident as they normally do.
I lean forward, pushing my point. “What about Cole?”
She freezes. And for a moment, I feel guilty for bringing it up. Cole—her high school sweetheart, the guy who has been in prison for years. The guy I know Kenna has been waiting for, holding on to the love they shared.
Her expression falters, and I can tell I’ve hit a nerve. “What about him?” she says quietly, but I know she’s not asking because she wants to discuss him. She’s asking because she doesn’t want to admit what she already knows.
I swallow hard, trying to keep the compassion in my voice. “Cole’s getting out of prison in a year, right? Are you ready to face that? Face him? Or are you going to just keep pretending he doesn’t still live rent free in your head?”
Kenna looks away, her lips pressing into a thin line. "It’s complicated, Mills. You know it’s complicated.”
I nod, feeling that knot in my stomach. “I know it is. But sometimes we need to stop running from what’s right in front of us.
You’ve been holding onto this idea of Cole for so long, but you deserve someone who’s willing to choose you, Kenna.
Someone who can give you everything just like Gabriel can give me everything. And you—you deserve that.”
Her eyes soften—not teary, but raw. Exposed
Her eyes flicker with something raw, something I haven’t seen from her in a long time. Vulnerability. “I’ve been holding on to the fact that Cole is coming home.” She says quietly, almost to herself. “I don’t know what to do with it.”
I take her hand, squeezing it gently.
“You don’t have to figure it out all at once. Neither of us do.”
We sit like that for a long time, two sisters with tangled hearts and too many what-ifs between them.
Kenna stands ruffling my hair like I’m still ten. “Get some sleep, Mills. You need all the energy you can get for family photo day chaos.”
I smile and watch her go, but long after she closes the door behind her, that flicker of hesitation stays with me.
Kenna’s always been the strongest of us. The one who knew how to handle messy emotions and complicated truths.