Page 1 of Made for You

The ocean waves crash into the cliffs below me. The perfect backdrop for my morning as I drink my scalding cup of coffee. The first one anyway. The soundtrack to my morning is calming and my siblings are coming to the inn today.

So why is my mood still so shitty?

Over the summer my sister spearheaded a plan to get this inn restored back to its glory with my brothers after I had asmallbreakdown from feeling overwhelmed with it all.

It’s the help I’ve wanted them to give since I took over the inn. But they were always too busy, out living their own lives, while I was stuck here trying to grow the inn with our father,who didn’t want to change a damn thing.

But when he refused to listen to me, he ended up falling off the porch roof and breaking a hip. Then of course he listened to my brothers that he shouldn’t have been on the roof, despite the fact I spent weeks begging him to let me, the actual owner, hire someone.

Ever since then, the shitty mood I’m in has stuck around.

People in town have actively started to avoid me to escape my attitude, but I can’t change it. Or won’t? I’m not sure anymore. What’s the point in trying to change their minds?

I’m the youngest son out of five, and the only one younger than me, is my sister, Emma. So of course she’s the babyandthe princess of the family.

I’m just the youngest son who never got into sports and fell in love with an 1800’s Victorian farmhouse inn that my grandfather opened. Working in the barn building furniture with my grandfather was much more preferable than baseball or football with my brothers.

As the sun rises higher into the sky my time to relax is coming to an end. Pushing my chair back, I rise to head back inside.

I toss my mug into the sink, grab my tool belt, and the four wheeler keys before heading out the door. Time to face this day.

My mental to do list before the Keaton crew shows up is a mile long and then some. First up is to get all the furniture out of room one at the main inn, then deep clean everything so we can start with repairs and painting.

Our property is made up of cabins and the main inn at the old farmhouse. Over the summer a majority of the cabins gotcompletely renovated. Now, it’s time to tackle the biggest part, the individual rooms.

I have my brothers for one weekend and I’m going to take full advantage and make sure they get all the heavy duty work done before it’s just me again.

Emma comes home every weekend, and I feel so guilty that she is losing her last years of college to help me play maid and balance books. She should be out partying, but we can’t afford to lose her, so I need to suck up that older brother guilt and swallow my pride.

I toss my tote of cleaning supplies into the back of my four wheeler, and start it up to head over to the inn. We only have two rooms booked this weekend, but I made sure they were on the opposite side of the inn from the construction.

Looking over at the cliffs once more before leaving, I see that the sun has barely peeked over the clouds but I’m ready to start my day. Every morning it’s just me and the sunrise over the cliffs.

The cold winter air stings my face as I ride across the property.

Parking the four wheeler, I groan as I throw my leg over the seat and hop off, grabbing my tool belt and tote and head inside.

Putting my airpods in, I lose myself in moving furniture, and cleaning the room.

“Liam!” Wyatt slaps my shoulder.

“The fuck?” I turn around and use the broom as a sword to fight off the intruder.

“Whoa. Just us, Lee.” I sigh inwardly at the nickname from Hunter.

Did I really want my brothers’ help? I might be rethinking that.

“You shouldn’t just touch someone who is in the zone!” I narrow my eyes at the two of them. “Where’s Coop?”

My middle brother, fourth in line to my fifth, is a travel photographer. He was supposed to end his last job in Scotland two days ago and be home this morning.

“The asshole signed on to do another assignment in Edinburgh, then up to The Highlands. Apparently the behind the scenes posts he made from Glasgow were so popular they extended his trip.” Wyatt lays out two boxes from Sweet Violets packed with fresh donuts.

I reach into the box and pull out my favorite Boston Creme donut before Hunter can beat me out for it.

“Hey! Wyatt got that for me!”

“Sucks to suck big bro.” I eat half the donut in one bite, savoring the flavor of the custard on my tongue.

---