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We start down the street, and Scarlett shrugs. “Fine, I guess. They never liked your dad much, and my brother hates him, so I can’t say any of them were surprised by how much of a dick he actually is. Sorry,” she tacks on. “I know he’s your dad.”

“I don’t blame them. If a forty-eight-year-old had gotten my sister pregnant at eighteen, then left her to raise the kid by herself, I’d be in prison right now.”

For all of my dad’s flaws, I would never have expected him to take advantage of someone so young.

And that’s what he did to Scarlett—though, I’m not sure she sees it that way. I don’t doubt she was interested in him the first time they hooked up, young as she was, and it’s not like either of them thought she’d end up pregnant. But he’s spent the years since Caitlin was born taking advantage of the fact that Scarlett was young and inexperienced, with no power to do anything about him being a fucking deadbeat. He’s not struggling for money; there’s no reason Scarlett and the kids should be, beyond the fact he’s an asshole.

“You and Landon will get along well,” Scarlett says. “How did your siblings take it?”

“Pretty well, all things considered. They knew why I was coming, but obviously none of us expected this.”

I glance sideways at Scarlett, and she’s looking at the ground, chewing her lip. I don’t know how to convince her she doesn’t need to feel guilty about any of this—I saw how devastated she was when I told her my dad was married. None of this is her fault, but I don’t know her well enough yet to reassure her.

“I wish I could say we’re surprised by how much of a dick my dad is, but we’re not. Mostly, we’re just sad that we missed out on seeing the kids grow up, and pissed at how much he left you to do on your own. We’re close, my siblings and I, and we would’ve liked to have been there for Caitlin and James. And you.” At least I have a chance to know them now. I didn’t plan on staying here for longer than it took to confront Scarlett, but I don’t feel like I have a choice now. My mom thinks I’m on a work trip. I hated leaving her, especially after using my dad’s favorite lie, but I had good intentions, at least. She’s stable; her treatment went well, and knowing that should lessen the pressure I feel to take care of her. The guilt for being here. But it doesn’t.

We stop outside a house with a family of reindeer in the yard, and Scarlett looks up at me, her expression tentative. “I have a lot of pictures, and I made scrapbooks when Caitlin and James were babies. I’ll show you them, and I’m happy for you to show your siblings, too. They grow up so quickly, but you know about them now. And, for what it’s worth, I think they’re really going to like getting to know you.”

I really hope she’s right.

“Thanks, Scar.” I shorten her name without meaning to, but she said everyone does it, and she doesn’t seem to mind.

Grandma Addie’s Guesthouse is as kitschy as it sounds, with frilly floral curtains, vintage plates hanging on the walls, and a dusty rose carpet. The Christmas tree is strung with threads of gold tinsel, and a creepy angel is perched on top. The man behind the counter, with a mullet and a hockey jersey, couldn’t look more out of place.

“Hey, Scar,” he says, as we approach the counter. “Who’s your friend?”

“Hi, Joe. This is Killian. He’s staying in town for a little while and needs a room.”

Joe wrinkles his nose. “Sorry, I’m all booked up. Holly Haversham’s getting married in a couple of weeks, and the whole extended family is here until after Christmas. They’re a goddamn nightmare, let me tell you.”

“Damn. Well, thanks anyway. Good luck,” Scarlett says, leading me out as he rants about 3 a.m. linen requests and the number of complimentary cookies they’re going through.

“Is there another hotel in town?” I ask, and she shakes her head. Shit.

“Closest is probably a twenty-minute drive in Otter Peak.”

“That’s not too bad.”

Except, five minutes later, we’ve exhausted every hotel in a half-hour radius and can’t find a single vacancy. Apparently, people book hotels early for the Christmas season. Who knew?

“It’s fine,” I tell Scarlett, when the final search gives us no results. “The drive to Calgary and back isn’t so bad.” I’m lying. It’s a shitty drive, but I’ll manage it.

Scarlett crosses her arms and purses her lips. “Do you have a criminal record?”

What kind of question is that? “Of course not.”

“Do any drugs?”

“I smoke a joint, occasionally, when someone hands me one.” My sister, usually. “And before you ask, no, I’m not a big drinker. What’s with the questions?”

She frowns, an uncertain look on her face, like she’s having an internal debate with herself. Finally, she sighs. “As long as you don’t mind hundreds of books and stuffed animals, you can take James’s room. He and Caitlin are sleeping in the same room at the moment, anyway,” she offers, and I’m both honored and surprised that she’s willing to open her home to me—and a little concerned, considering I’m practically a stranger.

I say as much, and Scarlett shrugs. “I did consider that, but I’m choosing to believe you’re not a serial killer.”

“I’m not.”

“Glad to hear it. But, just in case, you should know my brother has a shotgun.”

She surprises a laugh out of me. “Noted,” I answer. “But are you sure? I don’t want to step on your toes or make you or the kids uncomfortable.”