I stumble out of my room while rubbing my eyes. “Hey.”
“Morning!” Cami hops off her stool to come give my legs a hug. Her polka dot apron is covered in the same sticky red substance as her fingers, leaving a nice smear on my sweatpants. Red, white, and blue star clips hold back her wild hair from her face.
“What’s going on?” I cover my mouth to yawn.
“Mommy is going to beat Missy’s butt.” Cami holds out her fist for me to pound.
Lana shoots Cami a glare from over her shoulder. “Camila.”
The kid shrugs. “What did I say?”
“I told you not to repeat that to anyone.”
“Oopsy daisy.” Cami pokes her tongue out of the gap between her teeth.
“Who’s Missy?” I ask.
Lana returns her attention to the stovetop. “My competition.”
“Boo!” Cami makes a big show of turning down her thumbs.
I choke on a laugh. “Competition for what?”
“The Fourth of July bake-off,” Cami answers for her while stealing a strawberry from a large bowl. “Are you coming?”
Shit. I completely forgot the bake-off was still a thing. It’s been a long time since I celebrated Fourth of July the Lake Wisteria way, with the town gathering at the lakeside park for a barbeque and firework show.
I run a hand through my messy hair. “I don’t think so.” If I learned anything from last week’s Strawberry Festival, it’s that spending time around the town only amplifies my anxiety. So, the only way I can limit my alcohol intake and keep Lana happy is if I avoid stressors.
“Oh.” Cami’s shoulders drop.
Sorry, kiddo. This is for the best.
I walk to the stove and peek over Lana’s shoulder. “What are you making?”
She drops a single dot of red food coloring into the pot of strawberries. “Something that is going to make Missy regret ever thinking she could copy my strawberry tres leches cake recipe and get away with it.”
My mouth drops open. Damn, competitive Lana is hot as hell.
“Do you need any help?” I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, making sure to drag my fingers over the curved slope of her neck before retreating.
Her stirring pauses as her breath hitches. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m almost done.”
“How long have you been at this?” I fill a glass with water and take a sip.
“Five a.m.”
“Seriously? You’re going to fall asleep before you ever make it to the bake-off.”
She shoots me a pointed look. “I can sleep when I’m dead.”
“Would you like to be buried with your trophy?”
She grins. “Absolutely. That and whatever tissue Missy uses to wipe her tears after she loses.”
“This side of you is hot yet somewhat terrifying.”
Her smile is all teeth.
Although Lana said she didn’t need my assistance, I decide to help with the overwhelming number of dishes pouring out of the sink.
Cami keeps the conversation going while stealing strawberries whenever she thinks Lana isn’t looking. The red fruit juice around her mouth is a dead giveaway, so I clean her up while her mother has her back turned.
The doorbell ringing has the three of us looking up.
“We have a doorbell?” Lana pauses her mixer.
“That’s the first time I’ve heard it. Are you expecting someone?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No. Are you?”
“A majority of the town hates me, so I’m going to go with a no.”
Lana looks down at her half-mixed whipped cream. “Do you mind checking who it is?”
“I got it!” Cami hops off her stool.
“Camila!” Lana rounds the corner, but I’m closer.
Cami rises on the tips of her toes to reach the deadbolt, only to be swept into my arms.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
Cami pouts.
I take a peek through the peephole. Lana’s sister, Antonella, paces a few feet away. Her tan skin looks paler than usual, and her thin hair hangs limply around her face, accentuating a sharp bone structure that can only be achieved by malnutrition.
“Shit.”
Cami sucks in a breath.
I put her down. “My wallet is on my nightstand. If you count all my bills correctly, I’ll let you keep them all.”
Her eyes widen. “Really?”
“Yup. But you have to stay in my room until I come and get you.”
“Okay!” Cami squeals as she takes off for my bedroom.
Lana abandons her whipping cream. “What’s wrong?”
“Your sister is outside.”
Lana’s mouth drops open. “Antonella is here?” Her face pales. “Oh my God.”
“You didn’t know she was coming.”
Her head shakes. “No. I thought I made myself clear during our last phone call.”
“Do you want me to see what she wants?”
Her hardened gaze lingers on the door. “I already know what she came here for.”
My brows tug together. “But—”
Her shoulders slump. “Let me go talk to her.”
I step in her way. “Lana.”
She doesn’t look up at me, so I tip her head back.
“Do you want to speak with her?”
Her head shakes ever so slightly. “Not really after she…”
“After she what?”
“Took the last bit of inheritance money I had.”
Fuck. “She stole from you?”
Her eyes drop. “Yes.”
“Is that why she’s back? To get more money?”
“Probably.”
“Do you want me to give her some?”
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she shakes her head again.
“What do you want to do then?”
“I don’t know. After the way she talked to me on the phone… I hate seeing her that way. I hate it so damn much, knowing she is struggling and there is nothing I can do to make it better.” Her voice cracks.
My heart feels like Lana wrapped her fist around it and squeezed. “You’ve done everything possible to help her.”
“Then why isn’t it enough to help her stay clean? I’ve done everything. Paying, praying, pleading, yet she always goes back.” There is a sheen to her eyes that wasn’t present before.
“It has nothing to do with you.” I wrap my arms around her.
She places her head against my chest with a sniffle. “I’m so freaking tired of people hurting me.”
The tightness in my chest becomes unbearable. “I’m sorry.” For me. For Anto. And for everyone who has caused her pain in the first place.
The doorbell rings again, followed by hard pounding. Lana flinches against me.
I kiss the top of her head. “Let me go talk to her.”
“But—”
“Just allow me to do this for you.”
She sighs as I release my hold around her body.
“Stay inside.” I reach for the doorknob.
“Cal?”
I glance at her from over my shoulder.
She twists the fabric of her apron. “Thank you.”
“I’d do anything for you.”
Her bottom lip wobbles. “I know.”
I tip my head before walking outside. Antonella tugs at the sleeves of her long-sleeve shirt as if it can hide the track marks speckled across her skin. She looks thinner than ever, with her bones jutting out from underneath her shirt and her brown eyes nearly bugling from their sockets.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she snaps.