Crossing Paths Read online

  Copyright © 2013 by Melanie Stinnett

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Designer: Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations

  Editor and Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Visit my website at www.melaniestinnett.com

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9898324-1-0

  To Fonty and Ms. J

  You made a difference in my life, and you still inspire me to follow my passion today.

  Chapter 1: June

  Chapter 2: Liam

  Chapter 3: June

  Chapter 4: Caroline

  Chapter 5: June

  Chapter 6: Caroline

  Chapter 7: June

  Chapter 8: Caroline

  Chapter 9: Liam

  Chapter 10: June

  Chapter 11: Caroline

  Chapter 12: Liam

  Chapter 13: June

  Chapter 14: Caroline

  Chapter 15: June

  Chapter 16: Caroline

  Chapter 17: June

  Chapter 18: Caroline

  Chapter 19: June

  Chapter 20: Caroline

  Chapter 21: June

  Chapter 22: Caroline

  Chapter 23: June

  Chapter 24: Caroline

  Chapter 25: June

  Chapter 26: Caroline

  Chapter 27: June

  Chapter 28: Caroline

  Chapter 29: June

  Chapter 30: Cohen

  Chapter 31: Caroline

  Chapter 32: June

  Chapter 33: Caroline

  Chapter 34: June

  Chapter 35: Caroline

  Chapter 36: Cohen

  Chapter 37: June

  Chapter 38: Caroline

  Chapter 39: Liam

  Chapter 40: June

  Chapter 41: Caroline

  Chapter 42: Cohen

  Chapter 43: June

  Epilogue: Cohen

  Acknowledgments

  Sunday

  Standing in the driveway of my parents’ home, I take in the scene from the end of the cul-de-sac. Two-story brick homes, manicured lawns, and friendly smiles line each side of the beautiful street. Our neighbors are most likely enjoying a late Sunday afternoon with their families today.

  I reminisce about the times my mother and I would take walks down this street, waving hello to friends or stopping to admire the new landscape in a neighbor’s yard. I loved those walks with my mother, like I loved the roses in Mrs. Harris’ yard. I used to clip a few in secret and bring them to my mother on hot summer days. It was peaceful. It was quiet. It was full of love.

  Most of our neighbors assumed the inside of our home matched the demeanor of the neighborhood. Unfortunately, this was not so. One member of our family strived to make sure our existence was anything but peaceful and quiet.

  “Liam, put me down! Softly!”

  My brother laughs with enduring triumph. Flying swiftly through the air, I think of ways I can smack the smile off his face before I remind him there’s no trophy for scaring the crap out of me.

  “I’m going to kill you!” I shout, brushing grass, dirt, and pride off my jeans.

  “Not in front of Mom.” He smirks as he jogs into the house.

  As she slowly steps up from the curb to join me, Caroline can’t take her eyes off the front door where my brother’s presence graced its opening.

  “No way, Caroline. My brother is off-limits. He can’t even hold his own head on straight, much less manage a meaningful relationship.”

  “You never told me he was a Chris Pine on the hotness scale.”

  “Probably because he’s my brother, and Texas isn’t known for incest.”

  My best friend, Caroline, is having dinner with my family for the first time tonight. We met during our freshman year of college on the East Coast. Caroline’s family lives near Seattle, so we were both far from home. Friendship came easily as we bonded over alcohol consumption, ridiculous roommates, and relationships with losers. We complemented each other with our differences.

  Caroline—and I mean this in the best way—is completely full of herself. Of course, she has every right to be. She’s tall, gorgeous, and a natural blonde with clothes and shoes that fit perfectly over her size two body. Caroline would never be caught out of the house in her pajamas with frizzy hair.

  On the other hand, if she ever saw me putting on makeup or doing my hair, she would assume aliens had inhabited my body. Most of the time, my hair is a dirty-blonde mess. Someone once told me that I have dishwater blonde hair. I’m not even sure what that means, but it doesn’t sound nice. I take every chance I get to throw my hair up in a ponytail or a quick bun. I wear worn blue jeans because they fit better than a new pair and simple tank tops or T-shirts with tennis shoes or flats in varying colors. I figure it’s best to keep it simple, so the struggle is minimal.

  After graduation in May, Caroline and I moved into our apartment in Texas, which is about twenty-five minutes away from my parents. It’s far enough that I don’t have to deal with them unless I want to, but it’s still close enough to run home for the afternoon if Mom decides to fix my favorite dessert.

  Before starting her job last week, Caroline went out of town with her family on one last vacation. They were in Hawaii for eight days, and Caroline’s deep tan gives away how much time she spent on the beach. I don’t think I’ll ever figure out how to not be jealous of the way her skin turns to olive perfection from the sun.

  As we walk through the front door into the main hall of our large but quaint home, I smell childhood and innocence, also known as the sweet scent of pot roast combined with a hint of chocolate cake. Caroline keeps step with me as we enter the kitchen. My mom is bent over, pulling out her beautiful creation of chocolate moist goodness from the oven.

  “Hey, Mom. Caroline and I made it. Do you need any help?”

  “Sweet little June,” my mother says, “just take these potatoes to the table, and we’ll be ready to eat. Hi there, Caroline. So glad you’re here. I hope your first week of work went well.”

  “Sure did, Mrs. Derkert. Thanks for having me over.”

  Complete with a dollop of butter on top, the soft white mashed potatoes look heavenly. I hurry to the table, so I’m not tempted to make a pit stop at the kitchen island and eat them all.

  The rest of my family is sitting around the dining room table. Made of dark wood and large oak planks, it’s centered in the room and covered with a purple tablecloth that reminds me of the lavender growing in our backyard. Beneath the tablecloth, the wood is marked and stained from childhood incidents. Solid and sturdy, the table is held together by the love, tears, and laughter shared over the years. The chairs surrounding it are filled with a caring and close family. This is how I imagine my mother sees our dining room table.

  After twenty-four years of having more meals than I care to count at my parents’ table, I see it through a different set of lenses today. It is where my sister, Addison, can sit properly with her elbows off the table as she gloats about the perfection that is her life. It’s a place my brother can lean back in his chair, balancing it on two legs, as he swiftly speaks about his great new job or a steady girlfriend we’ve never met. It’s a space our father can lay down his rules on us kids w
hile also giving our mother the much-needed attention and adoration she yearns for.

  My father is a family practice physician, and he shares a clinic with two other doctors. He has worked in the same environment since before I was born. I remember sitting in an examination room with my siblings, playing with tongue depressors and trying to stick otoscope cones in each other’s ears, while we waited for my father to finish with his last patient. It’s a wonder none of us went into the medical profession.

  My mother finished a degree in art, but she’s never chosen to make money with those skills. After she married my father, they decided that they wanted to have kids right away. During our younger years, being a constant in our day-to-day lives was the most important priority to her. At this stage in her life, I think she’s too accustomed to her independence to show up at an office and answer to a boss every day.

  My parents loved us without respite throughout our childhoods. Of my two parents, our father was always the disciplinarian. He sat us in time-out, gave us a talking-to if needed, and spanked us when the offense was great enough. As a free spirit, our mother, on the other hand, gave us a creative outlet to cure us of our ornery attitudes. On weekends, we’d often lie in the grass with her, announcing the shapes of clouds, before we took nature walks to find rare plants.

  Overall, I would say my home life was quite enjoyable.

  My parents never sit on opposite ends of the table, like seen in movies when a couple gives loving glances or stern stares down the large expanse between them. My father seats himself at the head of the table with my mother on his right side. During my younger years, I distinctly remember them playing footsie under the table, like we didn’t know what they were up to. Although their worship of one another was quite obnoxious at the time, it’s now something I covet.

  Sitting across from my mom is Addison, who has claimed the perfect child title. It really isn’t fair since she was born first. Liam and I never really had a chance. Her hair, the color and shine similar to dark chocolate, is always in place, whisked away from her face with a sparkling pin or a quick braid. Her clothing speaks to her taste for designer brands and all the latest fashions. She married her high school sweetheart, Noah. He makes more money than all of us combined, and he’s currently earning his paycheck overseas on business.

  Although it might seem like I don’t like Noah, I really do. He’s a good match for Addison. Without him, she might have had to get a job and work for a living. Heaven forbid.

  My brother, Liam, retreats from his seat next to our mother to get a cold bottle of water from the fridge. He’s the consummate bachelor. All through our high school years, he would string girls along with his charm and good looks. I couldn’t blame them though. My brother, as Caroline noted, is a handsome guy, and he can talk his way through any situation and come out on top, making a deadly combination for stupid girls.

  Late one afternoon during his junior year, a girl came over without calling first. Like most girls, she thought she was in a committed relationship with Liam, so she was one hundred percent confused when she walked into the backyard and found him making out with one of her close friends. The next day, she told the whole school that he was a man whore. Even with that kind of reputation, the girls still lined up to ask him to the Sadie Hawkins dance the next month. Something about my brother makes him irresistible to the naïve ones.

  Of course, there is the other side of my brother—the role of my protector. Although I appreciate the gesture, he single-handedly kept me from dating until he finally left for college, and even then, he would run off all my boyfriends when he came home during holiday breaks.

  And then, there is me—sweet little June as my mother so affectionately calls me. I sit and quietly listen as usual, taking in all the latest information about my siblings’ lives. Today, I have Caroline to lean on—at least in theory. I glance over at her, and she is still staring at my brother, like he’s some kind of rare art exhibit. When I kick her under the table, she winces and looks to me as I emphatically mouth, No!

  “Caroline, I hope you’re enjoying the pot roast. It is one of June’s favorites.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. D. A home-cooked meal is something I would never pass up. I don’t even get that when I’m home in Seattle.” Caroline smiles with a polite grin.

  My mother turns her attention to me and gives me her take-no-prisoners smile. Here we go.

  “Maybe you can find new friends at work to spend some time with once you get settled in, dear.”

  To sum up the remaining details of the conversation, my mother takes the time out of her busy schedule to relentlessly harass my brother and me about our dating lives.

  I dated a few guys in college, and although some of them were nice, none of them made the grade. My brother and I should blame our parents for our track records of indecisive dating. If they didn’t have a seemingly perfect marriage, we wouldn’t have set such a high bar for members of the opposite sex.

  Liam shares my general disdain for this topic, so he quickly changes the subject. “So, Caroline, how do you like your new job at the design company?”

  “So far, so good. I’m mostly familiarizing myself with everything right now, but I’m sure things will pick up in the coming weeks.”

  “You and June aren’t far from where I work. Maybe we could all grab lunch one day this week?”

  Oh no, you don’t, brother of mine. “Don’t you have a lot of lunch meetings, Liam? I’m sure taking time for lunch with us would put a big kink in your day.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Liam glares at me.

  Caroline giggles.

  I get up from the table. “Is everyone ready for cake?”

  Sunday

  Finally, a clear view of something other than my family at the dinner table. My sisters have had friends over for dinner in the past, but if their friends had looked like Caroline, I would have invited them over again myself. June has talked about her best friend Caroline before, but I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting her. If I had known how hot she was, I would have driven my ass out to the East Coast while they were in college.

  During dinner, I tried to start a conversation with Caroline several times, but June was bent on intercepting my attempts. I can understand June’s hesitation since she’s well acquainted with my previous dating history, but she could give it a rest. Some days, I feel like my entire family still considers me an aimless bachelor with no intentions of settling down. I’m an electrical engineer in the airline industry, for heaven’s sake. It’s not like I’m still working at the pizza place down the street. Maybe I still have a carefree attitude, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not interested in a serious relationship.

  At least June and I still have each other’s backs when it comes to Mom’s incessant need to discuss our opportunities to make new friends. A long time ago, the two of us made a deal to help each other avoid this topic. If Mom brings it up with one of us, the other sibling has a duty to change the subject. This is a serious pact. I would have sealed the deal with blood, but June is a little squeamish around bodily fluids.

  Keeping in mind my mom’s keen eye for matchmaking, I try to play it cool around Caroline. “You’ll love my mom’s chocolate cake, Caroline. It’s a special family recipe.”

  “Mmm…anything chocolate is good in my book,” she says, smiling at me.

  Seriously, if she says “mmm” like that again, I might have to give June something to be pissed about. While many girls have smiled at me over the years, I don’t know that any of them have done it while holding their eyes closed and humming with pleasure—at least not in front of my parents. I know she’s humming about the cake, but I bet I could give her something more to hum about.

  I can’t take my eyes off of her as she gives me another small smile while putting her chin into her palm with her elbow resting on the table. Something about her grin keeps my eyes locked in place. It’s bright and draws me in. Not too big. Not too small. Just right. I sound like I’m quo
ting the three bears or some nursery rhyme. What the hell is wrong with me?

  At that moment, June walks back in, places the cake in front of me, and hands me a knife. “Would you like to cut the cake, brother?” she asks, attempting to guide my attention away from her friend.

  “Why not?” I give June the most counterfeit smile I can offer.

  She rolls her eyes and takes her seat, blocking my direct view of Caroline. Damn it.

  “So, Liam…” Addison begins.

  The signature high pitch in her voice tells me she’s about to ask for something.

  “How is your job going?”

  “The job is great. What do you want?”

  “Liam, be kind to your sister.” My mom slaps my hand, the very hand sliding a piece of chocolate cake toward her.

  Isn’t there some kind of saying about that? Something like…don’t slap the hand that passes you cake.

  I glance back at Addison, and without a doubt, I know I’m right in my assumption. Her grin oozes sisterly love even though I know she could do without me on any given day. Ever since she found out about my flight perks and general travel discounts, she’s been trying to plan a trip for her and several of her girlfriends.

  “Spill it, Addison,” I say, wanting this conversation to be over five minutes ago.

  “If I was planning a trip to, say, Australia, would you be able to get a great deal on a ticket?”

  “If you mean free, then no, I can’t help you there. If you mean, watch for sales, then I can shoot you an email when something comes up, but you’d probably be better off calling a travel agent.”

  “Are you serious? You can’t do anything for Noah and me?”

  I don’t know how Noah deals with her constant whining. It’s grating on my nerves already.

  “Yes, I’m serious. I’ve told you before that I can only get major discounts within the continental U.S. And if you really want to know how I feel, I think you and Noah can afford your own vacations.”