Page 55 of Meet Me in the Valley (Oakwood Valley #2)

Chapter Thirty-Five

TIA

I grip the edge of the sink, steadying myself as a wave of nausea rolls through me. A mix of nerves and anticipation twists in my gut as I stare into the mirror in the women’s locker room.

Even after a quick shower, sweat still clings to my skin. My head snaps toward the door at the sound of faint laughter—Professor Silva and Nora.

She’s here.

After what felt like a Herculean effort to bring her home from Vegas … she’s really here.

I grab my bag and push out of the locker room before I chicken out.

This is what I wanted. Now that she’s here, I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do.

Across the mat, Lucas and Professor Silva keep her company. I walk toward them, shoulders back, head high.

No room to fall apart now. Be strong.

“Ai, meu Deus, Nora,” Professor Silva beams. “It is a pleasure to see you again. Maybe one of these days, you will come roll for old time’s sake. I always told your mama and papa to let you train more.”

“Well, if she’s anything like her sister,” Lucas adds with a grin, “I don’t know if we could handle that, Unc. Two beautiful women who can kick any man’s ass? Lethal combo.”

He winks at me, and I blush. I hope it passes as leftover post-workout heat and not from his shameless flirting.

Nora gives a polite smile and steps forward to hug Professor Silva. “I think I’ll stick to dancing, Professor. But it’s really great to see you again.” Then she turns to Lucas, offering her hand. “And nice to meet you, Lucas.”

“Likewise,” he replies, though his sharp green eyes flick right back to me.

Nora notices the way I stiffen. Without a word, she loops her arm through mine like no time has passed. Like she didn’t scream at me to get the hell out of her house just weeks ago.

My body tenses at first, but softens when she pats my arm—calm, quietly saying, “It’s okay. ”

We’re halfway to the exit when Lucas calls out, “Tia?”

I glance at Nora. She lifts an eyebrow, knowing. Of course she knows. It’s like our sister bond relinks, and we’re back to sharing one brain the way we did growing up.

I turn as Lucas jogs toward us, flashing that same charming grin.

He’s cute, but it’s not the crooked grin I’ve been missing.

“Maybe not today,” he says, slowing in front of me, “but I’d love to take you to dinner tomorrow. If you’re free?”

His gi is off now, his muscles pulling tight against a compression shirt.

Nora arches a brow again, and I bite my lip.

We stand there in front of Lucas for a silent beat.

It’s as if I can hear Nora’s thoughts, and she can hear mine.

I let the warmth from that settle in my chest, somehow feeling more peace than I have in weeks with my sister close.

And before I can answer to Lucas, Nora speaks for me.

“Sorry, Lucas.” Her eyes flick to mine, then back to him. “Tia’s spoken for.”

Lucas blinks, then smiles good-naturedly. “Fair enough. You ladies have a great day.”

As we walk away, Nora still tucked into my arm, she doesn’t say a word. She just shoots me a sideways glance and quirks the corner of her mouth.

I smirk back.

For the first time in a long time, we’re in sync again.

And it feels good.

“Is it okay if I call you Auntie T? Or Aunt Tia? Auntie Tia? TT? Which one do you like better? Also, the hotel we’re staying at is so awesome!

Actually, Mom says it’s a bed-and-breakfast and that your best friend owns it.

What’s her name? Also, do they bring you breakfast in bed?

Is that why it’s called a bed-and-breakfast?

They could’ve come up with something a lot cooler.

Like … I don’t know what, but anything is better than bed-and-breakfast. You know?

” Cali rambles off between bites of a burger that’s almost the size of her head.

I blink, amazed that this tiny human is inhaling a double cheeseburger, vanilla milkshake, and fries like her stomach is a black hole. And double amazed she can get so many words out in one breath.

Oh, to be twelve again.

I glance down at my sad little salmon salad and immediately wish it had more grease and fewer vegetables.

Raising a hand, I flag down Mrs. Dickson, who makes her way over with the same stiff-legged shuffle I remember from high school, like her underwear is always riding a little too high.

“What is it, honey?” she drawls.

“Can we get a basket of fries for the table, please?”

“Sure thing.”

Cali pushes her plate toward me without missing a beat. “You can have some of mine, Aunt—wait. What do you want me to call you?”

Nora shakes her head, amused, and I catch the warm flicker in her eyes as she watches her daughter. There’s something so natural in the way they move together, like a rhythm only they know.

In Vegas, everything was tense and raw. I wasn’t able to witness their dynamic the way I can now. Now, I can actually see the love between them. It’s loud in the quietest ways.

Cali may be a full-blown preteen—quirky, sassy, occasionally feral—but her heart? That belongs to her mom. It’s clear that Nora knows exactly how lucky she is.

I steal a fry from Cali’s plate, dunk it into a glob of ketchup, and take a thoughtful bite as I mull over the list of names she rattled off.

This might be the most important title I’ve ever had.

Not lead interior designer. Not dutiful daughter. Not even best friend.

But Cali’s aunt.

“I think I like TT,” I say, chewing slowly as I smile at her. “I don’t know why, but it’s the one that’s speaking to me the most. What do you think?”

Cali slides her plate back in front of her, gives me a serious little nod, and points a finger gun in my direction. It’s ridiculously cute.

“TT it is,” she declares.

And just like that, I’m officially someone’s TT.

Mrs. Dickson drops off the fries with a wink, and for the rest of dinner, the conversation orbits entirely around Cali.

Within the hour, I’ve come to one undeniable conclusion.

I’ve got the coolest niece on the planet.

She’s got this wild independence that’s so distinctly Nora, it’s almost eerie. The way she talks with her hands, the fire in her opinions, the confidence in her posture—it’s like watching a miniature version of my sister in real time.

And yet, there’s something else. Something all her own.

Cali’s sharp. Witty in a way where she doesn’t even know she’s being funny, but somehow always lands the punch line. A few times I’ve nearly snorted water through my nose at her perfect delivery.

She’ll passionately explain the intricacies of photography and the way she sees the world through a camera lens. She dips her fries into her milkshake without hesitation, like she trusts her instincts implicitly.

There’s a lightness to her—playful, curious, weird in the best way. That’s the part that doesn’t come from me or Nora. It’s just so Cali .

I’m in awe of her.

She’s chaos and charm, depth and delight—wrapped in Converse high-tops and graphic t-shirts with weird slogans that make you look twice then burst out laughing.

And I’ve already fallen completely in love with her.

“Mom, can I have some quarters for the arcade?” Cali asks, palm outstretched toward Nora before she can even answer.

The Golden Grape Diner’s retro arcade hasn’t changed much since we were kids. Just seeing the neon lights flickering through the glass at the back wall sparks something soft in me.

Back when Nora and I were Cali’s age, we used to blow through every last quarter in Dad’s pocket playing air hockey and Pac-Man on nights just like this. I used to work weekend shifts here in high school, and after closing, Audrey and I would sneak off to play a few rounds ourselves.

Now Cali’s at that age—wide-eyed, full of energy, and making her own memories in the same place we made ours.

Nora digs into her purse and hands over a ten-dollar bill. “Here. Go exchange it at the machine. Knock yourself out.”

“Thanks, Mom!” Cali squeals, practically launching herself out of the vinyl booth and skipping toward the arcade.

We watch her go, smiling as her oversized hoodie bounces with every step. Then, slowly, Nora and I turn toward each other.

This dinner had been for Cali. She lifted the heaviness that’s hung between us since Vegas, even if just for a little while.

But now—with her laughter echoing in the distance—it’s finally just the two of us.

The last time we sat across from each other, we felt like strangers. But something shifted the moment Nora stepped back into Oakwood Valley.

Seeing her here—sitting in the same diner, breathing the same air she once walked away from—clicks something into place. A quiet kind of peace I didn’t realize I’d been missing.

“What made you finally come?” I ask, my voice softer than I expected.

The urge to pick at my thumbnail rises, but I resist. Instead, I press my finger into a crack in the old vinyl booth and trace it, grounding myself in something steady while I wait for her answer.

“Whether or not you believe me, I care about Mom and Dad,” Nora says, her voice steady but laced with guilt. “I never stopped loving them. When you told me about Mom, it broke me.”

She glances toward the arcade, her expression softening as she watches Cali, completely absorbed in a pinball machine. A faint smile tugs at her lips.

“Now that I’m a mother, I hate that I abandoned mine. Especially now—with her being so sick.”

I lean back in the booth, letting her words settle. The clinking of silverware and the quiet murmur of nearby tables blur into static as I study my sister. The version of her sitting across from me now feels older. Quieter. Less guarded.

So when I speak, I don’t hold back. “Why couldn’t you realize that when I came to see you?” I remain calm, but the hurt’s still there, tucked just beneath the surface. “That fight didn’t need to happen, Nora. You really hurt me.”

Nora looks down at her hands, slowly nodding. “I know. I’m so sorry, Tia.” She brings her gaze back up to me, full of remorse. Her shoulders hunch, and that’s when I see a flash of fear in her eyes.