Page 83 of Making New Plans

I hesitated. He talked to our parents on occasion, but he wasn’t close with many other people in town. Maybe he hadn’t heard any gossip about me and Hunter. Or the lodge. Or my recent separation from our mother and the committee life.

“Everything’s good,” I said at last. “I’ve been doing some changes to the lodge and the grounds. Trying to perk things up a bit. Added some new art from Rose. I also started—”

“Who’s Rose?” he interrupted.

Whoops. “Oh, um, my friend Rose? She moved here a couple years ago and opened an art studio. Surely I’ve mentioned her.” I knew I hadn’t. On purpose. Flynn could get competitive when it came to other artists.

Flynn grunted. “If you wanted more art, Chloe, I am an artist. I could’ve sent you something. In fact, I just did a show out here where people raved over my natural material pieces.”

“I’m sure they did, Flynn. I didn’t ask because I figured you were busy and wouldn’t have the time or the money to send a bunch of stuff out here.”

“Well, maybe I’ll come home and make you something there.”

My jaw dropped, and I blinked rapidly. He might as well have said that our mother was dressing in tie-dye and joining a hippie commune.

“Hello?” he called through the phone.

“Yeah, sorry, I must’ve had an aneurysm. It sounded like you said you were coming home.”

“My sister, the comedian, ladies and gentlemen. Yes, I did, smartass. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I think it’ll be a smart move.”

Suspicion narrowed my eyes. “Why?”

He cleared his throat. “What do you mean, why? I’ve got family there. And it’s expensive here.”

“And?” I prompted.

“And I’m bored.”

“Aaaaand?”

“You’re such a pain,” he growled. “I made some bad decisions out here, okay? My agent says I need to take a break and get my head on straight somewhere that’s not LA.”

“Oh, Flynn. Do Mom and Dad know?”

There was a small, charged silence. “They know I might be coming back. They don’t know when or why. And I’d prefer to keep it that way. Just like I’m sure you don’t want me telling Mom what—I’m sorry, who—you’ve been doing every night this past week.”

My jaw dropped again. Nearly to my lap this time. I spluttered incoherently into the phone.

“Save it, Chloe Bear, before you give yourself an aneurysm for real. I heard about Mr. Hunter Erickson from Wyatt.”

Betrayal socked me in the stomach. “I didn’t know you two still talked!”

“Yeah, occasionally. You know he’s got his ear to the ground about everything in that town. I figured he was a good resource to have on hand should I need any unbiased info on the Tangled River goings-on.”

I had my phone in a death grip. “Flynn, if this gets back to Mom—”

“Relax. It won’t. At least not because of me. But I will warn you. She’s got her antennae up over you, Chloe. The longer you avoid it, the messier it’ll be when it all goes down. You know how she gets.”

“Yeah, I got a pretty good idea after my high school talent show.”

“Wait, what?”

I sighed, suddenly grateful I had an unopened bottle of ibuprofen in my desk drawer. “It’s a long story, Flynn. I don’t have time for this right now.”

“Give me the highlights then,” he demanded. “I figured you all would be pissed at me for leaving, but Wyatt had mentioned that the talent show was a bust. I meant to reach out, Chloe. I swear I did. I was just scared. I didn’t want to get pulled back in so soon after leaving. It was a shit thing to do, but you seemed like your old self more or less after a while, so I let it be. But I do want to know. If you’ll tell me now.”

I bit my lip, the small explanation helpful but hurtful at the same time. “Well, I guess you already know the bit about them showing up and leaving once they saw my performance. What I never told you was…” With surprising ease, I told the story a second time.

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