Page 72 of The Kid Sister

“Yeah, something like this,” Cullen said, and his soft lips met mine with the sweetness of apple pie, the thrill of a rollercoaster ride and the promise of things to come.

epilogue

Sierra

The drive to HamptonLakes is a little bittersweet. I love coming to the cabin, but it is going to be a bit difficult being away from Cullen for a whole three days. I did see him yesterday on Thanksgiving Day. After our Thanksgiving lunch, Sawyer and I had been invited to Cullen’s Granddad’s house to watch the football. The Stanhope house has its own private movie theater, a curved room with twelve big comfy reclining chairs that have their own drink and popcorn holder. To me, that was the most amazing thing! Mrs. Mercer brought us sodas and tubs of popcorn and candy, like the real thing. Tennessee and Millie came too, and Skyler, Flynn, Danny and Nico. The adults left us to it, but Coach floated in and out. It had been a lot of fun, the boys reminiscing about every single football game they’d ever played.

Dad parks the car beside the log cabin which overlooks a deep blue lake. It looks cold and when I get out of the car, the air definitely feels a few degrees cooler than back home.

“Oooh,” Mom says, shivering as she puts on her puffer jacket, “I think we better get the fire lit. You two can bring in the wood.” She’s pointing to Grayson and me. Sawyer is coming up with Reilly and his girlfriend, Freya, but they had to stop at the mall first, so will be arriving shortly.

Dad lugs the bags out of the trunk while Mom unlocks the door. Grayson and I go to the shed and load up the wood cart. The boys used to push me around in it when I was little. I can’t believe I used to fit in it. I take it to the porch while Grayson pulls out the kayaks because when the others get here we’ll go out on the lake.

I stack the wood and go back for another load. It seems so primitive having to collect wood and lighting a fire, though that’s the appeal of the cabin. There’s no television or wifi here, but there is a massive bookshelf and a bunch of boardgames.

I help Mom organize lunch, leftover turkey and pumpkin pie on the menu. I set the table and hear the sound of Reilly’s truck arrive.

“Good timing!” Mom says with a silly smile. “Let’s go and meet them.”

I think to myself that it’s an odd thing to say. It’s been less than three hours since we last saw them.

“I’ll just put the plates on the table,” I say, halfway through my job. With it being so cold out, they’ll probably want to come straight inside the cozy cabin, which is quickly heating up thanks to Dad’s boy scout skills from long ago. And fire starter squares.

I can hear the closing of car doors and a chatter of voices. If I dawdle a little they’ll all come inside and I won’t have to go out.

Dawdling doesn’t work though—nobody is coming in. Oh, I think, maybe they’re taking Freya down to see the pier; she hasn’t been here before. I shrug on my pink jacket and zip it up. I walk outside and stand on the porch—and blink—rapidly, like I can’t believe what I’m seeing. And when I know what I’m seeing, when I realize it’s not an illusion, that’s when a football flies straight at me. My reflexes kick in and I catch the ball inches away from my nose.

Shouts and claps resound, Mom’s the loudest.

Footsteps race toward me.

He stands in front of me.

“Can I have my ball back please?” Cullen asks.

I hand it to him, smiling. “What are you doing here?”

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