Page 45 of Alive At Night

Katherine St. James had always been overprotective like that, a bit of a helicopter parent. Gemma and I were both raised with educators for moms, but Gemma’s was the free-spirited English teacher while I’d been gifted the middle school principal who loved control. I’d often wished for a sibling when I was younger—just so I had someone to share her attention with. Just so I could breathe a little. But I knew everything my mom did came from a loving place.

I loved my parents. I loved our home and even this town on most days. I would forever be grateful for the spin of fate that allowed my parents to find me.

Chance played a part in everyone’s lives, but it felt different for me. So many decisions and doors needed to open just to match me with my own parents, my own house, my hometown.

But being adopted sort of worked like that.

I nodded, taking a long sip of Julian’s famous “apple pie”—longer than was smart, considering how the sweetness of the drink likely masked an ungodly amount of vodka.

My mom made a noise of disgust in response to my affirmation that Greg Kennedy was lurking around the party. She flicked a single blonde curl over her shoulder as my dad joined us, an easy smile on his face that I knew was somewhat fake. Parties weren’t his thing, but he knew how to make people believe they were.

“I heard Kennedy was engaged to that Kelly girl who was a year ahead of you in school,” he said, always the casual gossiper. It would probably surprise people that my dad, the hardworking businessman, had a propensity to run the rumor mill. But that was Brooks St. James.

“Huh,” I said, simultaneously intrigued with Greg’s engagement to Julian’s ex and, well, that Greg was engaged at all. Maybe I’d misread his intentions when he approached me.

“Think you’ll be invited to the wedding?” Dad teased, a sliver of a smirk appearing just before he tipped his beer back to hide it. He knew I had no interest in attending Greg Kennedy’s wedding, nor did I want to talk to him. I suspected that was why he’d joined my mom over here—to stand guard in case Greg returned.

“Definitely not.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the door to the garage swing open, and I prepared myself for Greg’s return. But a flash of auburn hair told me no one was coming back into the house. No, Julian was leaving. Following Greg? Unlikely, considering how much he’d always disliked him.

Putting both irritating men out of my mind, I faced my parents. And took a deep breath.

“Speaking of weddings,” I began, “I was invited to Sofia’s.”

“Oh?”

My mom’s eyebrows rose. Meanwhile, my dad took another slow drink of his beer, his poker face holding its place.

“Are you going?” he asked.

“Yeah, I want to.” I tapped my fingers on the glass in my hands nervously. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay, Juniper.”

My mom’s response was swift, but I caught the tension in her stance. On the other hand, my dad leaned against the wall, a picture of neutrality.

I’d never met my half sister, but since my adoption was open, my parents had told me everything they legally could regarding my birth family. I imagined a part of them had always been waiting for this day to come.

Receiving Sofia’s invitation shocked me. It probably wasn’t how I would have gone about our introduction, but I saw it as an opportunity, an open door to have something I’d always wanted: a sister.

Gemma had always beenlikemy sister, but I was painfully aware that shewasn’tmy sister. My hair wasn’t red; my eyes weren’t blue.

“Whatever you want, Juniper,” my dad said earnestly, almost like he could sense my hesitation on their behalf. I met his green eyes and saw that he meant it. Of course he meant it. He had a lot of chances to hide my birth family from me, but he never did.

A loud clattering from the garage interrupted our moment at the same time Julian’s mom hollered across the room at my parents. Something about the desserts they brought. I stopped listening, staring at the garage instead. My curiosity led my feet toward the sound, leaving the party behind and my parents to talk with their friends.

The cool air caused goose bumps to erupt on my skin as I stepped into the garage. Julian stood a few feet away, a look of smug satisfaction on his face as he watched Greg walk down the driveway to his car.

A slight drizzle interrupted the silence, pattering softly against the pavement until Greg drove off, and the wheels of his car squealed through the night air. The street was lit by dim streetlamps. One flickered. Just like orange string lights flickered in the garage, making it glow.

I turned to Julian, and his expression fell upon seeing me.

Typical.

“I heard something.” I surveyed my surroundings, wondering what it might have been. “I thought I’d come out to the two of you fighting.”

Julian scoffed. “You think I’d waste my time fighting Kennedy?”

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