Chapter 1

Emily

Why do people get excited about beginnings? New year, new job, new presidential term...

Sure, a beginning holds many possibilities, it is technically a 'fresh' start. But...we're still the same people.

I think that beginnings are like candles; no matter how bright they might shine, they're still destined to burn. In other words, we're all fuckups destined to fuck up.

I'm not saying that endings are better. God, I hate endings. If there's anything I hate more than beginnings, it's the endings. Unlike beginnings, endings are more on the emotional extreme of life: they're the parts that are consumed by memories, nostalgia, anxiety, and you know, all the other shitty emotions out there. They're the absolute worst.

What I'm saying is that I like the 'middles'.

By 'middles', I mean the small victories you achieve right before quitting your job, like spitting in your boss' coffee without them knowing or the middle of a song that you scream your heart out to in your car on a Saturday afternoon. I mean the peaceful mid-spring weekends when the weather is a combination of soft sunlight and a cool breeze of air.

I like middles. They're balanced, and I like balance. Sounds very Zen, right? However, don't be fooled. As much as I try, and trust me, I really try my best to stay in the middles, it is impossible to do so.

Because every middle has a beginning and an end. The only thing I can do is shorten the start, delay the ending, and spend as much time as I can in between.

"You must put an end to this, Em."

My eyes meet Adam's soft brown ones. The wrinkles around them deepen as he furrows his thick eyebrows together. My fingers unconsciously move towards his forehead to soothe the lines. "You're in serious need of Botox, old man."

This earns me a small smile. "Old? Thirties are the new twenties."

I scoff. "Who even says that?"

"Thirty-years-old people who are in serious need of Botox?"

I laugh, leaving my fingers linger on his unshaved beard for a second. "The beard isn't helping either. Is this a mid-life crisis thing?"

He shakes his head, pushing my hand away. "Nice try at changing the subject, missy. But you need to stop interfering in your sister's life."

"Adam, I was not interfering. She called me, okay? What do you want me to do, hang up on her?"

He sighs. "That's exactly what you need to do. I know that it's hard, but that's what her mother wants."

His words are a punch to my gut. Before I can say anything, his hand covers mine and squeezes it tightly. "Remember, your real family is the one you choose, not the one you're born into."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes as my chest tightens.

Before I can say anything back, we're interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.

"Are you expecting someone?" I ask.

He shakes his head before looking back at his watch. "It's almost ten. That's weird. Who could it be on a Tuesday night?"

"I'll go check," I say before hopping off the couch. I walk towards the front door, getting annoyed when the person knocks again. I hate it when people knock a million times. "Coming," I shout.

If it's another tourist stopping by because they got lost, I'm slamming the door in their faces. Like, sure, I get it, the house looks cozy and people are fascinated with the idea of living in the middle of nowhere, but the entire point of living in the middle of nowhere is to not see people. Let alone tourists.

The moment I open the door, I find myself facing a young man. He must be in his early to mid-twenties. Curly brown hair, piercing green eyes, jawline sharp enough to kill – and a suitcase. Great, another tourist, except this time he has his baggage with him. And he's hella attractive.

"What?" I snap. "Do you not have google maps in your countries? I mean, it's a Tuesday night and some of us have real jobs."

His eyes widen at me and he seems slightly confused.

"I'm here for Adam..." I'm surprised by the hoarseness of his voice, but then I realize what he just said – Adam? Why would he be here – "I'm his nephew, Logan."

Oh shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

Logan, as in Jade's son. Jade, as in Adam's sister who has been begging him to move to the US, and who has no idea that the only reason he won't is because of me. Because she doesn't know that I exist.

Shit. This is not good.

Our pictures are in the hallway and the living room – riding my first bike, graduation, mountain competitions – and the kitchen drawings I made when I was ten!

I fight the urge to pinch my eyes closed, hoping this is all a nightmare and I'm going to wake up soon. Out of all the times I thought about the gazillion ways Adam's family would find out about us, this scenario wasn't one of them; Logan, out of everyone, finding out first.

I mean, I know that he's got the whole 'bad boy' thing going on and it drives everyone absolutely crazy, so he might be naïve enough not to suspect anything but – No.

There's no way he won't figure this out. Sure, he's a drunk asshole, but he's not dumb. Or at least, I don't think that he is based on all the stories that Adam told me. The guy is wild, I've got to give him that.

"Em? Who is it?" Adam's voice interrupts my thoughts.

Before I could say anything, Logan asks me, "Is this a bad time? Should I come back later? I mean, I could always just book an Airbnb or something-"

I almost feel bad for the guy for thinking that he can find an Airbnb anywhere near here.

"Logan?" Adam breathes out from behind me. Shock is clearly written over his face.

"Hi," Logan says before biting his lips. "I'm sorry, I thought that Jade would have called you to tell you that I'm coming..."

Adam quickly recomposes himself, and pulls Logan into a hug. "No, no worries. Of course, I think she left a message in my voicemail, but I forgot to check it. What, is it spring break already?" Adam tries to joke but it's clear that he's just asking him what the hell is he doing here. Or maybe it's not clear, and I just know him too well.

Logan, on the other hand, looks mortified. "Uh, no, not spring break," He lets out an awkward laugh before his hand pushes his curls from his face. "I think I'm spending the summer here."

What?

A minute passes by as we both stare at him blankly.

Fuck.

How can someone just think they might be spending an entire summer here? How?!

"You think?" Adam breathes out.

Logan just nods.

"The entire summer?" Adam checks again and I'm grateful he does because I really need to make sure that I'm hearing this correctly too.

"Uh... Kind of?"

Cool, cool.

Very casual of Adam's family to have no boundaries and impose themselves on us for an entire summer. Why am I not surprised?

"Why are we still standing there? Uh, come in, please," I practically push him inside before grabbing a hold of Adam's hand. "What the fuck, Adam?" I shout-whisper at him but he seems to be clueless about the situation.

We walk back inside the living room where Logan seems to be admiring the place. "This room hasn't changed one bit," He smiles, his fingers tracing Adam's miniature collection. He's been developing this collection since forever.

My chest tightens as the thoughts in my mind run in circles. God, I have no freaking clue what Adam's going to say. Whenever his family used to visit, he would just drop me off at his boyfriend's until they leave. But they haven't visited in like, five years, and I really don't want to have to move for an entire summer.

It's moments like these when it hits me that I'll never be normal. Because normal people don't do this; they don't hide who their parents are or move every time someone might find out. My angry thoughts spiral.

I hate this. I hate when his spoiled nephews come to "spend the summer" without so much of a phone call and I just have to reorganize my entire life. I hate that Adam asks me to put "healthy" boundaries with my biological parents, but he doesn't do the same with his family. I hate that he won't tell them about me. Before I know it, his hand touches my knee.

When I shoot him a quick look, I see the concern in his eyes, so I look away. I'm way too pissed at him.

"So, how was your flight?"

Logan smiles sheepishly, showing his dimples. I can tell that with his looks, he's probably used to getting what he wants. I mean, in addition to all the wild things I've heard from Adam, I know that he was worried sick about him since he was drinking and partying all the time.

"Not too bad." In other words, he probably slept with a flight attendant or something.

He picks up one of the pictures on the shelves. It's my graduation picture. Great, he's going to be commenting on how weird this is any moment now.

"You two go way back, huh?" Logan asks, pointing at the picture.

My breath catches in my throat and I look at Adam, hoping he'll know what to say. And of course, Adam does. He has an effortless smile on, the nervousness he was showing earlier has completely disappeared.

Maybe he was just caught off guard, but the mask I know so well is back on. After all, he does this for a living, right? Psychologists are the absolute worst.

"This is my housemate and best friend, Emily."

Housemate and best friend? I'm impressed. That's definitely an improvement from the previous excuses he's made before.

"Emily, that's my nephew, Logan."

"It's nice to meet you," Logan says, and I give him a tight smile. It's not nice to meet you, please go away. You're not welcome here.

I take a deep breath and fake a smile. "I'm going to bed. Have fun catching up."

Oh, and I also hope you choke in your sleep.