Page 22 of The Inn Dilemma

“I have an image to uphold. You signed up for that image when you married me.”

“Signing that prenup was the second biggest mistake of my life.”

“Oh yeah?” Dad raises his voice. “And what’s the first?”

“Marrying you!” she screams before slamming the door.

My lips turn down and my chest fills with a heaviness I can’t shake. If Mom regrets marrying Dad, that means she regrets me. That she regrets Christian. Her life would be better without me.

Dad’s door slams closed next.

My throat grows tight, and I fight down the pain, forcing myself to go numb. I find a book of fairy tales on my shelf and sit in my window seat in a way to try and distract myself. When Mom and Dad fight, these make-believe worlds are a way to escape.

I’ve read one chapter when a flicker of light outside pulls my attention away from my book.

Christian and Holt are out back building a fire next to their tent. I could keep reading, but theirlaughter carries up to my window. I want to laugh too, so I pull on a hoodie and sweatpants and head to the kitchen for snacks and drinks.

After getting everything together and putting them on a tray, I slide open the glass door and balance everything in my arms. My shadow crosses in front of them. Chris turns and sees me before I can say anything. I set the tray on the porch table so I can close the door behind me. Then I pick the tray back up and head toward my brother and his best friend.

As Chris’s face comes into view, he looks at me with pity, not irritation. He already knows why I’m out here. It’s probably the same reason he and Holt are sleeping outside on the cold, hard ground and not in his room.

Chris pats the spot in the grass next to him, and I set the tray on the grass before plopping down.

“They were really going at it tonight.” Chris opens the bag of marshmallows and stabs through one with a stick before hovering it over the fire.

“Yeah,” I say sadly, rubbing my nose to try and stop the tingling there. The last thing I want to do right now is cry. “I know it’s not cool to hang out with me, but I really don’t want to listen to Mom’s sniffles all night.”

“I get it,” Chris says, turning his marshmallow as it browns. Chris turns to Holt. “Do you mind if she hangs out here with us?”

Holt shrugs. “It’s all right.”

We sit in silence as we brown our marshmallows. Every so often one of us will point out a constellation we found.

Holt takes a swig out of his soda with his free hand, and I wrinkle my nose.

“What?” he asks.

“How do you drink that?” I point to his can.

Holt lifts it up and turns it side to side. “What? Soda?”

“Yeah. Sweet tea is way better.” As if to prove my point, I pick up one of the glasses I brought out and take a sip, being careful not to drop my marshmallow into the fire.

“If you say so, SuperNova.” Holt takes another swig.

“SuperNova?” Christian asks.

Holt shrugs. “Her name is Nova. She’s obsessed with that movie.”

I can’t help but giggle at that.

“Whatever,” Chris says, taking two graham crackers and placing a chunk of chocolate on one side and setting the warm marshmallow on top. Using the second graham cracker, he slides the gooey sugar off the stick and makes a s’more.

Holt and I both follow suit. The three of us sit in silence, making and eating my favorite dessert. Holt drains his can of soda and eyes the other two glasses of iced tea.

“Want one?” I ask, lifting one up and handing it to him.

“Sure.” He takes it and swallows down half the glass. When he pulls it back, he sputters. “That’s strong!”