Summer Breeze Kisses - Addison Moore Page 0,94

for the Avalanche that’s about to ensue. “We don’t have any silly nickname for our cabin either.” Not sure why I went there with the exception that I find the name of their family abode completely ridiculous in nature. “So, who dreamed up the Happy Squirrel Retreat? Let me guess. It was your best work?”

Scarlett sinks in her seat a bit, her lids growing heavy and weary. “We all did—my brother, sister, and me. It’s stupid, I know.” Her voice grows small. “Ironically, it was such a happy day.” She looks out the window and gives a tiny sniffle.

My heart breaks because in that one moment it feels as if Scarlett and I are on the same level, in the same amount of pain over who our families once were and who we’re morphing into. I do know her mother is remarried, so there’s no chance of her parents reuniting. But my father—he’s not hitched. He’s not even dating. My mother needs to wake the hell up and put her life back together. Yes, what happened sucked. What happened to her after the fact made everything ten times worse. But is it impossible for them to get back together? No. The only thing standing in their way is a tall, gray-haired bag of bones named Bradley Kent. My goal this weekend is to make my mother realize what I’ve known all along. She doesn’t belong with this idiot for God’s sake. She belongs with my dad.

We drive the rest of the way in silence.

The Happy Squirrel Retreat sits at the edge of Lake Avalanche with an awkward skyscraper-like disposition. It actually looks wider at the top than should ever be safe, and those stilts it’s sitting on aren’t doing any favors in the way of assuring me of my safety. Not to mention, the cabin sits far too close to shore for comfort. I swear on all that is holy that son of a bitch looks like it’s about to topple right in.

An oversized wooden statue of a bear holding a sign with the cabin’s boastful moniker greets us at the bottom of the stairs. The cabin itself is more like a cozy nook than the palace I envisioned.

I know all about extra large ski-side accommodations. Our cabin at Mirror Lake is over nine thousand square feet. Both the Tobermans and the Kents would have been much more comfortable there for the weekend rather than trying to squeeze ourselves into this shoebox. We’ll be clawing out one another’s eyes far sooner than the time allotted for this unwanted stay-cation. On second thought, this thumbtack of a retreat might be just what the breakup doctor ordered to end my mother’s extended fling.

“It’s four bedrooms, two baths—one upstairs and down.” Scarlett gives me a quick architectural rundown, sounding more depressed by the meager disposition of the house than boastful. “The kitchen’s a tiny square, but I’m sure we’ll make it work. I’m already losing my appetite, so that’s one less room I’ll be heading into.”

I pick up our bags from the trunk and follow her up, trying not to hypnotize myself by the sweet way her ass sashays back and forth like it’s trying to teach me a lesson. Just the thought of that rock for brains, Colin Bale, coming up here and pawing all over her is enough to make me lose my appetite.

Scarlett gives a meek knock at the door before grabbing the handle and bowing her head a moment as if she needed to summon her resolve just to walk inside.

We head into the brightly lit foyer that spills into the living room, and before we know it, our families offer up a collective cheery hello. The thick scent of something sweet baking hits me, and already it’s wiped the pall off this place. As much as I hate to admit it, this feels cozy, alarmingly homey even.

I give a brief wave at Trixie and Knox playing pool in the corner along with Scarlett’s younger brother, Lawson. The table is too jammed up against the wall to allow a proper game, but it looks as if they’re making the best of it.

Mom gives an exaggerated hello from the dot of a kitchen while pulling a tray of chocolate chip cookies from the oven. Her hair is pinned back in a bun, and she’s actually donned an apron. A part of me is tempted to take a picture of this 1950s version of my mother and shoot it to Dad,