Page 38 of Forecheck
I’d loved growing up here. It had a big-city feel while still being full of small-town charm. During high school and my undergrad summers, I’d worked at a local winery on Old Mission, and I’d always loved interacting with people who came from far and wide to enjoy my little slice of paradise.
When I pulled into our driveway, my mom and younger sister were waiting for me.
“You’re looking way too thin,” Mom said, holding me at arm’s length after giving me a hug. “Are you eating enough, or do you spend all of your time studying?”
“Why is it that when Logan was in law school, he literally survived on Red Bull and donuts, and no one gave him shit for it. But I lose a couple pounds and suddenly I study too much? Damn double standards.”
My mom stepped away and planted her hands on her hips. “Do not cop an attitude with me, Berkley.”
I rolled my eyes and pulled my little sister—who was actually six inches taller than me—into a hug.
“Jessica looks skinny, too, Mom!” I whined when we broke apart.
Jessica pinched her stomach. “Logan’s been sharing fitness tips, so I’ve been using the campus gyms when I can.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I looked back and forth between my mother and sister. “Are we talking about the same Logan Daniels here?”
Jessica laughed and opened the hatch of my Jeep, reaching in to grab one of my bags. “It is weird, right? Ever since he started at the firm, he’s been taking better care of himself. Still works stupid long hours, but somehow manages to exercise daily.”
I frowned. I loved my life in Detroit, but this was one of the few reasons I hated being so far from my family—I missed out on all the small things.
“Speaking of, where is our dear brother?”
“He should be here any minute,” Mom said, checking her watch.
Jessica and I ran a load of stuff inside, my sister chattering about her first semester at Michigan State. Jessica was six years younger than me, and the third and final Daniels kid to attend college in East Lansing, where she was studying to be a teacher. She’d gotten some of Dad’s height, but was blonde like me, Mom, and Logan. All of us possessed crystal blue eyes.
When we came back out for another load, Logan’s black Silverado pulled into the driveway.
He’d barely climbed out when I launched myself at him. Logan stood over six feet tall like our father and caught me easily, scooping me up and spinning me around. Next to my dad’s, his hugs were my favorite, and he crushed me to him, even as I jokingly gasped for air.
“Who are you, and what have you done with my sister?” Logan asked when he’d set me back on my feet, studying me at arm’s length. “Did you lose weight?”
“What is it with you people?” I asked, jokingly pinching his stomach, which was—admittedly—flat, his biceps obviously toned and straining against the sleeves of his Henley. Not that I’d ever give him the satisfaction of telling him his hard work was paying off. That went against everything in the brother-sister best friend handbook. “Did yougainweight? Too many steak and lobster dinners on the company card?”
With a laugh, Logan wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me in, dropping a kiss to the top of my head.
“I missed you, you dork,” he said when he let me go.
“I missed you, too, you goon.”
When we eventually walked inside, I was greeted at last by the family’s two Golden Retrievers, which meant my dad wasn’t far behind.
“Hi, Bristol! Hi, Rambo!” I cooed as I knelt to pet the dogs, who fought valiantly for all of my attention. “How are my babies? Oh, I know, I missed you, too.”
“Of course the dogs get attention before your old man.”
My dad grinned as I ran into his arms. Like Logan, he lifted me into a hug, crushing me to his chest. When I was back on my feet, he ruffled my hair before gathering half of my belongings and bringing them up to my old room.
Ahh, it was good to be home.
The next week and a half came and went in a flash. Despite the fact that he sometimes worked six or seven days a week, I still saw a lot of my brother. When he wasn’t around, I listened to Jess talk about this boy she’d met and started dating, or offering advice about friends or classes. Sometimes, I’d go to construction sites with my dad—who was a contractor—to see how various projects were coming along.
I’d also met a few of my high school friends for dinner one night, and my friend Amara, whose family owned the winery I used to work at, and I agreed to get together and go out for New Year’s Eve. I had to admit, I was excited about the prospect of a night out to simply let loose before returning to Detroit a few days later.
Mostly, though, I sat around the house, read some new books on Kindle Unlimited, and thought about Brent. We’d managed to talk on the phone and over FaceTime a bit, but it wasn’t enough. Despite my initial reluctance to let him in, he’d become a part of my life quite seamlessly.
Basically, I missed him.
