Page 1 of Pumpkins & Promises
Chapter One
Emily
Istare at the mountain of orange plastic bins stacked in Highland Hollow's storage barn and wonder if it's too late to fake my own death.
The aftermath of our Harvest Festival looks like a craft store exploded. Artificial autumn leaves cling to everything, there's pumpkin guts dried to the concrete floor, and somewhere in this chaos is my sanity. Probably buried under the deflated bouncy castle that took three grown men and a YouTube tutorial to figure out.
"Em, where do you want the—" Dylan starts, then stops when he sees my face. My twin brother has the annoying ability to read my moods like a weather forecast, and right now I'm definitely showing storm clouds.
"Just put it anywhere," I mutter, peeling a strand of orange twinkle lights off my boots. "It's not like organization matters when we'll just have to dig through everything again next year."
Dylan sets down a box of mason jars and gives me that look. The one that says he's about to go into protective big brother mode even though he's only older by twelve minutes. "You know what you need?"
"A vacation. A lobotomy. A different family." I tick off the options on my fingers. "Oh wait, I had the vacation part figured out until?—"
"Em."
The way he says my name makes me stop. Dylan's using his serious voice, which means he's about to drop some kind of bomb that's going to make my already complicated week even more interesting.
"What did you do?" I ask, because I know that tone.
He runs a hand through his hair—the same dark brown as mine—and has the decency to look sheepish. "I may have rented out the cabin."
For a moment, I think I misheard him. The cabin. Our family's little getaway spot up on Pine Ridge, the one place I've been fantasizing about escaping to for the past week. The place where I was planning to hide out until Thanksgiving dinner was over and I could emerge from my post-festival cocoon without having to explain to Aunt Linda why I'm still single or listen to Cousin Beth detail her latest MLM venture.
"You rented out my cabin?" My voice comes out surprisingly calm, which should probably worry him.
"It's not your cabin, it's the family cabin, and I thought …"
"You thought what, exactly?" I set down the box of table runners I'm holding with deliberate care. "That I wouldn't need it? That I wasn't planning to spend the next week recovering from the fact that we just hosted three thousand people who all seemed to think the phrase 'customer service' meant I should personally entertain their children while they Instagram their perfect fall family photos?"
Dylan winces. "His agent called, and the guy needed somewhere quiet to write, and the money was really good."
"Money?" I stare at him. "Dylan, we just had our best festival ever. Sienna's event planning brought in twice what we madelast year. We don't need—" I stop, because something about his expression tells me this isn't about money at all.
"You felt bad for him," I realize. "Some guy called about a sad writer and you went all soft."
"He's going through a rough time, and Sienna thought it might help."
"Oh, Sienna thought." The words come out sharper than I intend, and I immediately feel guilty. Sienna is lovely. Sienna is perfect for my brother. Sienna turned our little pumpkin patch into a destination that had people driving from three states away just to see her Pinterest-worthy setup.
But right now, Sienna is also the reason Dylan is thinking about someone else's problems instead of the fact that his sister is one burned apple cider donut away from a complete breakdown.
"Em, come on. You're being?—"
"Reasonable?" I grab another box, this one full of fake spider webs that someone thought would be "whimsical" mixed in with the pumpkins. "I'm being completely reasonable. It's not like I had plans or anything. It's not like I specifically asked you three weeks ago if I could use the cabin to decompress before we have to smile and pretend everything's fine in front of the entire extended Holloway clan."
Dylan's quiet for a moment, and I can practically hear him choosing his words. This is what happens when your twin brother falls in love. Suddenly he's all thoughtful and considerate, trying to manage everyone's feelings instead of just telling me I'm being dramatic and throwing a foam spider at my head.
"You could stay at Sienna's place," he offers. "She's spending most of her time here anyway, getting ready for?—"
"For Thanksgiving, where she gets to meet everyone and be the shiny new girlfriend who actually has her life together." Isigh and lean against the barn wall. "Dylan, I love that you're happy. I love that you found someone amazing. But do you have any idea what it's going to be like sitting at that table, listening to everyone coo over your perfect relationship while they ask me if I'm 'putting myself out there' and whether I've tried that new dating app Cousin Jessica keeps posting about?"
The silence stretches between us, filled with the distant sound of traffic on the main road and the rustle of leftover decorations in the autumn breeze.
"I'm sorry," Dylan says finally. "I should have asked."
"Yeah, you should have." I pick up the box again, suddenly exhausted. "What's done is done. How long is he staying?"
