Page 9

"Golden Hour Lodge." The name made perfect sense. And as I sat there taking in the unbelievable sights, a little more of the weight on my chest lifted.

The only noise was the wind through the leaves, birds getting ready for nightfall, and the buzz of insects. None of it was normal to me. There were no waves, no boat motors, no scent of salt on the air.

I was in Sammy's home. I was sitting where Sammy sat, looking at the mountains she called home in every book I devoured.

I would fix this block by going back to my first book love. I wanted to remember what it felt like to get lost in the pages of a book, to want to be inside it, talking to fictional people, and being part of an imaginary world. My hope was that by going back to my roots and immersing myself in Sammy's real-world inspiration, I'd find mine again.

It would work. Ithadto work. Otherwise, my only other option was to change my name and disappear completely.

And that wasn't an exaggeration.

Four

Jackson

Yeah, I'm yours, kid.

My ears rang.The dinner table was covered in food for sixteen. And all sixteen of those people—myself excluded—were talking over each other. Knives scraped against the plates, spoons clanked against bowls, but mostly my siblings yelled at each other.

They weren't mad. That's just how they talked.

Until Gus gave out a cry that sounded an awful lot like the one I wanted to make. So I scooped up my little nephew and used him as an excuse to step outside.

"I know, bud. They're too loud." Gus dropped his chubby cheek on my shoulder and let out a relived sigh. "I got you." The kid didn't make another noise and neither did I.

The Finn household was just barely big enough to contain all my siblings. As we started adding significant others and kids, well, what I used to think of as chaos exploded into something even more extreme.

It didn't suit people like me or Gus or Karis. Not that any of them cared enough to change. But at least we had the yard. It had always been my safe haven. It was also probably where my love of the outdoors was born. A green lawn sloped gently down to a flat court where we played every sport imaginable. Across from the house sat the newest addition to the family property: an outdoor dining room. There was a massive fireplace on one end, a concrete slab for a floor, and a pitched roof for shade. They even went so far as to install plastic flaps we could put down if it was raining. The table was big enough to seat everyone. All the kids. All the future spouses. All the hoped-for grandkids. Mom and Dad were never subtle with their hopes and dreams.

In a way I appreciated that. I could plan now for how to deal with not fitting into that future.

Large, old trees surrounded the property. Mom had a sizable garden down by the court and encouraged all kinds of flowers and vines to fill out the space, making the house seem like it was part of nature.

I rubbed Gus's back and marveled at how soft his hair was, then held him a little closer when his breaths evened out.

I took a seat on the bench that looked down over the court and let my nephew have a quiet nap while I slowly forced every muscle in my body to release. It didn't matter how relaxed I was when I came home or how many breathing exercises I did while inside it. I always wound up overstimulated and ready to explode before dinner was over.

Bonus points if Mom and Dad decided to have one of their usual knock-down, drag-out fights for dessert.

"You look good holding a baby, big bro." Karis plopped down beside us. My parents' dog, Gizmo, went flying past on the way down to the court for his ball.

"Don't." I adjusted Gus so he was more sprawled across me than tucked.

She shrugged. "Look, I get that it's easier to be alone. And I'm not exactly one to talk about wedded bliss, but there's something to be said for spending time with people who get you. I think that's what I'm most sad about."

Just thinking about Julien made me want to punch something. "Please tell me you won't take him back if he begs."

"Oh, hell no!" she laughed. Karis had long dark brown hair she almost always wore loose. Gus liked to take a big fistful of it and just hold on. She looked the most like our mother out of all of us. They had the same hazel eyes, same full lips and pointed chin. "With you gone, he was the only other person I could be myself with.ThatI will miss. The rest?"

"Were there signs? Please tell me there were signs." I would probably know this stuff if I were around more.

Gus whimpered and flopped his head the other way. A big part of me hated that I missed these moments. I had five nieces and nephews now and they barely knew me. Is that who I wanted to be? The mysterious uncle who drops in once a year?

Maybe. But maybe not.

"There were signs," she sighed. "It's been over two years of bizarre behavior."

I went tense again as I did the math. "While you were pregnant?"