Riley crossed the room and hugged her, breathing in the familiar scent of vanilla and fabric softener. Her mom held on a beat too long, the way she always did, like Riley might vanish if she let go.
"How was the drive?" Carol asked, pulling back to study her face.
"Long. Snowy. I'm here now."
"Good. Your father's in the garage pretending to organize. Tyler's upstairs pretending to work. And Lily—" She turned to Riley's sister with a pointed look. "—was supposed to be helping me with cookies."
Lily held up her hands. "I was on Riley duty."
"Go. Both of you. I need at least three more batches before tonight."
Riley frowned. "Tonight?"
"Family dinner. Obviously." Her mom waved the spoon like it explained everything. "Everyone's coming. Your aunt, your uncle, the cousins?—"
"Wait, everyone?"
"It's Christmas, Riley. What did you expect?"
A quiet evening to decompress from the drive.But Riley just smiled and nodded, because arguing with Carol Monroe about holiday logistics was like arguing with gravity.
Tyler appeared at the top of the stairs, lanky and smug in a Pine Valley High sweatshirt that had seen better days. "Look who finally showed up."
"Hi, Tyler."
"Took you long enough. Mom made me set the table twice because she kept changing her mind about where you'd sit."
"That's not true," Carol called from the kitchen.
"It's absolutely true," Tyler said, jogging down the stairs. He stopped in front of Riley and grinned. "So. Big reunion coming up."
Riley's stomach tightened. "Yeah. Like every year."
"You seeing Grant?"
There it was. Riley kept her expression neutral, even though her pulse spiked. "He's always there. We all hang out."
"Yeah, but this year might be different."
"Why would this year be different?"
Tyler's grin widened. "Just a feeling."
"Tyler," Lily interrupted, shoving past him. "Leave her alone."
"I'm not doing anything!"
"You're doing the thing where you poke her until she snaps."
"That's called sibling bonding."
Riley grabbed her bag and headed for the stairs. "I'm going to my room."
"Running away already?" Tyler called after her.
"Strategically retreating," she shot back.
Her childhood bedroom was exactly as she'd left it—floral bedspread, posters from bands she'd loved in high school, a bookshelf crammed with paperbacks and yearbooks she couldn't bring herself to throw away. She dropped her bag on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, letting the quiet settle around her.
