Page 79 of Second Chance Vacation

“No one calls me stupid.”

“To your face.” She scoffs, pulling away from me and walking toward the door.

We arrive at Wes’s house, and I notice that, for the most part, the house is quiet. Too quiet. Wes’s car is out front, yet I don’t hear him.

“Hello?” I yell up the stairs.

Instantly, I hear shuffling, a struggle, and something hits the floor. My eyebrows hit my hairline as I look to Hannah, who is already rolling her eyes. Savannah comes tumbling out of Wes’s room, buttoning her pants as she stumbles over her shoe I didn’t notice directly in the middle of the landing.

“Hi, Savannah.” Hannah waves, trying not to laugh as a disheveled Savannah comes jogging down the stairs.

“Hey, Hannah!” Savannah jogs down the stairs, barely skidding to her feet as she wraps Hannah in a hug. “Jax didn’t tell me you were coming into town.”

“She didn’t tell me.” I rub my eyes as I lean against the wall. It is clear I am unnecessary for their greeting.

“I wanted to surprise him. How was France?” Hannah perks up as Savannah pushes her left hand toward her, showing off the two-carat paperweight strapped to her finger.

“Jeez—” Hannah stands there, slack-jawed, not looking up from the glimmering stone in front of her.

“He did good, didn’t he?”

“He did amazing. Holy shit, congrats, Savannah. That's awesome.”

The two continue to ramble on for a bit, catching up. They’ve met a couple of times, so most of it is surface-level. Savannah asks Hannah about New York, she naturally downplays her distaste for the city, and Hannah asks about Savannah’s job at Newmont Group. Unlike Hannah, Savannah is honest to a fault.

“Guest room is the last door on the right.” Savannah gleams as Hannah walks past her, waiting for the door to close before she turns to me.

“Does she know about France?”

“Yep.”

“Does Gen know she’s in town?”

“Nope.”

“Oh boy.”

“Yep.”

And with that, I fight the urge to crawl in on myself.

THIRTY-ONE

JACKSON

“Seriously?!” Hannah’s voice radiates through my phone, causing me to instinctively pull my head away from the speaker.

“Could you maybe not yell?”

“I’ll yell if I damn want to yell!” she says, managing to yell even louder into the mouthpiece, causing me to jerk away in response.

“It’s one meal. They’re only in town for the day. They want to see you.” I sigh, pressing my fingers to my temples. Our parents called me earlier today, informing me that they’d be in Atlanta tomorrow, and they want us to meet them for brunch. I knew Hannah wouldn’t be happy about it, but there isn’t really such a thing as saying no to our mother.

“I’m here to relax, hence the nail appointment.” She left a few hours ago, and now I know for what. “The last thing I care to do is have brunch with Mom and Dad.”

Groaning, I lean my head against the cold marble of the kitchen island. It’s been a long day, and the last thing I need is Hannah giving me resistance about a stupid meal with our parents. Hannah continues to ramble about how inconvenient it is that our parents are coming into town—or at least I’m pretty sure she’s still on that tirade. I’m not completely sure. I stopped listening around the fifth time she screamed into the headpiece. The phone sits on the countertop, the volume set only to half its capacity—despite this, Hannah’s voice carries through the receiver perfectly.

Wes walks into the kitchen, a puzzled look on his face as he looks at me. I press the mute button on my phone as Hannah continues to drone on and on.

---