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Rain

“ W hat the fuck am I doing with my life?”

I ask out loud, staring at my reflection in the steamy mirror.

“Rain, dear. Is that you?” I hear my mom’s voice from the hall.

Even though I moved out a couple of years ago, I still shower and do laundry here.

Some people, like my brother Miles, might say that I didn’t really move out—that I just simply sleep in a van. And in their eyes, that might be true. But living somewhere is about where you spend most of your time, and I don’t spend that much time at my mom’s anymore.

“Yes, Mama. It’s me. I’ll be out in a minute,” I shout from the bathroom.

I’ve been on autopilot for most of my adult life.

First, my dad passed away unexpectedly when I was twenty-two.

Then my twin sister, Ruin, got in a car accident and suffered from amnesia when we were twenty-four.

I’ve been in survival mode for way too long, and at almost twenty-eight, it seems like I don’t know how to live a normal life.

Sigh .

I quickly dry off, while grabbing a fresh pair of jeans, a white tank top with the Rustic Spoon logo printed on the chest, and my Doc Martens.

I work at a diner—I’m actually the head chef and manager.

But somehow, saying I work at a diner sounds less formal, like that would mean I have less responsibility.

Once I’ve braided my long red mane, I head out of my childhood bedroom looking for Mama.

“Hey, sweetheart. So good to see you. I thought you had forgotten about me,” Mom greets me as I enter the kitchen.

I place a kiss on her cheek. “Never. I’ve just been busy,” I say, taking a biscuit warming on top of the stove .

“Busy with what? Even Ruin makes time to come see us,” Granny says with a scoff.

I jump—I hadn’t seen her in the kitchen when I came in.

“Oh, Rain. Don’t look so surprised. Yes, it’s Granny—alive and kicking.”

I chuckle and go hug her. She’s been living with us since Grampy passed. She feels more like a bonus mom than a grandma.

“I’ve been busy at the diner. And hiking. Getting some exercise now that the weather is nice again. You know how great it is to be outdoors in the early summer,” I say, reaching for a second biscuit, but Mama bats my hand away.

“Get a plate and eat like a proper lady, Rain Melody MacAllister,” she admonishes, and I hear Granny chuckling behind her.

I shake my head at their antics.

“I’ll leave you two to enjoy breakfast. I have my daily date with the birds,” Granny says, making her way outside. She loves feeding animals, big and small.

“Sweetie, you know I don’t like being in your business. I have five amazing sons and daughters, but I’m worried about you,” Mama says as she serves eggs and biscuits with a healthy portion of gravy, then takes a seat at the kitchen table.

I glance at her. Her eyes are darting every which way, like her thoughts are racing. I know she means well. I wish I could tell her I’m fine, that she doesn’t need to worry—but the truth is, I don’t even know what’s going on with me. Or how to shake the mood I’ve been in for years now.

“I’m okay, Mama. I promise.”

Lame. But it’s the best response I can come up with as I sit down beside her.

When she doesn’t respond or move, I glance over. She’s smiling. That same look she gives any of my siblings when she thinks we’re full of shit.

I release a deep breath, my shoulders sagging, “I promise I’ll find a place, Mama—a proper one.”

Her smile turns megawatt in an instant.

I raise a brow in defiance. “But I’m keeping the van.”

Mama chuckles as she eats a spoonful of eggs.

“I wouldn’t expect it any other way from my feisty and determined Rain,” she says after swallowing.

I give myself a little internal pat on the back for dodging the never-ending conversation: When are you getting married?

“So, tell me—how’s the diner going? Do you need me to help at all? I know summertime gets busy.”

I’m thankful she changed the subject. We keep chatting over breakfast, and I leave after washing the dishes and giving Granny one more hug on my way to the van.

As I suspected, she’s feeding the horses at the stable. If River catches her sneaking extra food, I don’t want to be around to see him in the sour mood that follows .

Mama’s worried about me and my solitude, but honestly, I’m more worried about River—my oldest brother and the grumpiest person I’ve ever met.

“Hey, sis. How are you?” My twin’s voice fills the van as I answer her call on the Bluetooth system.

“Hi there, RuRu. How are you and my babies today?”

Right on cue, she scoffs.

“ Your babies? You wish.”

Ruin had twins back in March—Indigo and Sage. They’re the most adorable babies I’ve ever seen. Saying I’m obsessed with my niece and nephew is an understatement.

“Do you have time to walk with us?” she asks.

“I’d love to. I still have a couple of hours before I have to be at the diner. Do you want me to stop by your house?”

My sister is married to a billionaire, and he built their dream home on top of one of the Azalea Creek mountains. They can see the Blue Ridge from their backyard—the view is breathtaking.

“No, we’ll meet you in front of the diner. I can’t wait to have lunch there so Granny can see the kids,” Ruin says with so much excitement that I can’t deny her.

“Sounds good. See you soon.”

I disconnect the call and crank up the volume on the radio. I can’t sing like my sister, but I love a good tune.

I arrive downtown in no time and quickly park the van in the lot behind the diner. Ruin is already by the front door with the double stroller.

“Aww, there are my babies,” I say, making a beeline to greet them.

They’re fast asleep—Indigo, with red hair like Ruin’s and mine, and Sage, a blonde, blue-eyed mini version of Gio.

I remember going with Ruin to Charlotte for the day to buy their clothes. Today, they’re wearing the most adorable outfits—overall shorts with a forest theme. Perfect for the warm weather.

They look so comfortable and content, all I want to do is squeeze their chubby cheeks.

My sister is glowing in her mama era. She’s wearing big sunglasses, her hair is up in a messy bun, and a loose shirt that says Serene Lookout — the place she runs.

After her car accident, Ruin wanted to create a place where people could recover from physical and mental injuries.

She switched her majors, became a psychologist, and hired doctors, nurses, therapists—you name it.

The place has become famous for its incredible work, and people from all over the country come to Azalea Creek to heal.

“Wanna push the stroller?” Ruin asks, adoration in her gaze as she looks at her babies.

I happily accept and start pushing.

“I bet Gio is having a great time with those jugs,” I say, nodding at her boobs.

She throws her head back, and a huge laugh fills the street.

“Oh my God, Rain, you won’t believe how obsessed that man is,” she says.

I stop walking and turn to face her, pulling down my sunglasses so she can see me raise my eyebrows.

“Gio? Obsessed with you? Nah, I don’t believe it.”

Ruin smacks my shoulder gently, and I laugh.

Her husband made her fall in love with him again when she lost her memories after the accident.

For six months, Gio kept his distance while Ruin recovered.

But once he knew she was back on her feet, he moved to Azalea Creek.

And as the old saying goes, the rest is history.

“So how’s it going?” she asks.

I sigh. “Did Mama put you up to talking to me?” “What? No, why would she?” my sister answers—way too fast. Her telltale sign that she’s nervous.

“She totally did,” I say, louder than I meant, and Indigo fusses.

“Shhh, shhh. Babe, everything is okay. Auntie Rain just gets excited sometimes,” I tell him, rubbing his leg until he calms down.

“I promise you she didn’t, Raindrop. Why? Is something wrong?”

I look at my sister, who’s holding my wrist and rubbing my pulse point with her thumb, like we used to do when we were little. Anytime we were worried about each other, that was our go-to motion .

“Nothing is wrong,” I say, turning my gaze away and starting to walk again.

“Okay—maybe everything is wrong,” I admit, inhaling and releasing a deep breath.

We continue to walk in silence for a couple of beats. I know she’s giving me the space I need to gather my thoughts. We’ve always known what each other needs without speaking—it’s the twin bond.

I look down at my niece and nephew and can’t help but tear up at the thought of these two growing up thick as thieves, just like their mommy and me.

“I just feel like everyone has moved on with their lives, and I’m still here living in an eternal loop of the same day,” I finally say.

Ruin chuckles. “Like in Groundhog Day .”

Daddy used to watch that movie all the time. I think he knew the dialogue by heart.

“Yeah, something like that.”

I keep my gaze trained on the babies. I don’t want to know if my sister is looking at me with pity, or even worse, with disappointment.

“I know what you’re going through because I’ve been there. I remember those days when I didn’t know how my life was going to turn around. I thought I’d never smile again. I thought I’d never find love.”

I look at Ruin, and right on cue, her emerald green eyes fill with emotion.

“Twice,” she adds, her voice breaking.

“Ugh, dang hormones. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make this about me. I was just trying to say that I know how you’re feeling,” she says, drying the moisture from her eyes with the back of her shirt.

“I know, Ru. But you were able to get out of your funk—twice. I haven’t been able to. I’ve been in this funk since Daddy passed.”

It’s been longer than that. But she doesn’t need to know that.

I look away instead of making eye contact. I don’t want her to see me cry.

I don’t want her to see that I’ve kept a secret from her—a terrible one. We never keep things from each other. But I know if I tell her about this, it would break her—like it broke me.

“Well, how about you come join us at Serene Lookout?” Ruin offers, casual as can be.

I stop in my tracks. “What? No. I don’t need you to analyze me, Ru.”

I can feel my walls going up.

She sighs and runs a hand across her forehead.

“I should’ve worn a hat. By the time I get home, I’ll be red as a tomato,” she says, grabbing a water bottle from the stroller .

Then she turns to face me, sliding her sunglasses down her nose to meet my gaze, piercing me with her steady green stare.

“Could you benefit from going to therapy? Absolutely. It’s not a crime or a sign of weakness to seek someone to talk to and untangle whatever’s bugging your mind and your heart.

But that person could never be me. I’m your sister.

I’m here for all the bitching and moaning you want.

But I can’t give you professional advice. ”

I chuckle, but I’m grateful she’s not trying to force anything on me. She knows I’ll bolt like a black cat under distress.

“What I was thinking,” she says, sliding her sunglasses back into place as she starts walking again, “is that you could become an instructor at Serene Lookout.”

I bark out a laugh.

But when Ruin doesn’t join in, I get serious. My mouth falls open.

“Are you for real, Ru? What could I possibly teach there?”

My mind starts racing. What do I even have to offer—besides being stuck in a rough patch myself?

“Does cooking make you happy?” she asks.

The babies start moving their little hands, and Indigo starts sucking his pacifier.

Ruin sighs. “Nap time is almost over. Let’s start heading back.”

“Of course it does,” I say, circling back to our conversation. “You know that.”

“Well, it can have the same effect on others. And teaching people what you love and interacting with them might boost your mood too,” Ruin explains.

I don’t hate the idea. It might be a little terrifying, but I don’t hate it.

“I don’t know, Ru. I’m not the best with people,” I admit, suddenly feeling shy.

“Give it a try. There’s nothing to lose.”

Sage lets out a wail, and my sister rushes to take her out of the stroller. It’s incredible how calm she stays while a ten-pound baby is yelling her heart out.

Ruin takes her boob out in a move I didn’t know was possible, and Sage latches on like she’d die if she had to wait another second. Ruin grabs a tiny blanket from the stroller, covers herself, and keeps walking like nothing happened.

I love how my sister has embraced motherhood.

She could give a flying fuck about all the rules and expectations society piles on moms. Don’t breastfeed in front of others.

Let the baby cry it out. Sleep when the baby sleeps.

Ruin does what’s best for her and her family.

I’m sure having a loving, committed partner like Gio helps too.

“How do you do that? You’re amazing, you know that?”

“I’m just a mom,” she says, brushing off my compliment.

But she’s way more than just a mom. She’s a fucking rockstar .

“How many students will I have?” I ask.

Ruin does a little happy dance.

“We have two people right now, and I think one more is coming next week. A hockey player.”

I bite my lower lip, already wondering what I could teach them to cook.

“Don’t overthink it, sis,” she says. “You don’t need to come up with crazy and complicated recipes. Teach them twists on dishes they can make at home when they leave here. Fourth of July is around the corner—teach them to cook some fair food. I’m sure everyone will get a kick out of it.”

I start planning recipes and thinking about how to rearrange my schedule at the diner.

And then it hits me—a morsel of a feeling I haven’t felt in a while.

Hope.