28. Jo

Playlist: Espresso | Sabrina Carpenter

I wake up the next morning to a mouthful of tangled, blonde curls. I sputter and attempt to remove the strands from my mouth, careful not to pull too hard. Hunter’s body is snuggled into mine with one arm haphazardly across my chest, like she’s protecting me from something in some nightmare she’s having.

I found out in the middle of the night how quick she is to do that–protect me, comfort me, support me. Her breathing is heavy in sleep, nostrils flaring with each breath, mouth slightly ajar with a strand of drool dripping from her bottom lip. Despite that, I still want to wake her by kissing her, like this is some fairytale with dubious consent.

Instead I slowly move her arm so I can get up, pulling on a dark purple athleisure set and a pair of sneakers before taking my meds. I check my blood sugar levels on my phone before sending Hunter a quick text telling her where I am going. I want her to know I’m coming back, but I need some time and space to think. To process everything that happened last night.

When I step outside, the sun is rising over the sound and I inhale the salty sea air. The light breeze dances over my skin as I start the one-mile walk to my parents’ house.

Port Haven is a small town, just two and a half square miles and a couple thousand year-round residents. It’s a nice walk from the inn to the house, and I let myself just be for a moment while I walk. I can process after I steal some of that espresso that my local siblings and their friends steal from my parents.

When I get to my childhood home, I’m a little concerned to discover Poppy was right: the back door is unlocked. I’m more surprised that Ren, Will, Millie, and Poppy are all seated at the counter, at least having the decency to look a smidge guilty.

“Hello, troublemakers.” I put my hands on my hips and arch an eyebrow. “Who’s gonna show me how to use this fancy-ass contraption?”

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Ren says, eyes wide as he holds a steaming Best Dad Ever mug.

“We’re out of luck. I spilled,” Poppy says.

“Why would you do that?” my brother whines.

“She doesn’t live here! It’s fine! She’s not going to tell your parents,” Poppy argues.

Will looks between the two of them as they bicker, an amused look on his face.

“Did you miss the chaos when you were at Stanford?” I ask him.

“Surprisingly, yes,” he admits, shrugging his shoulder.

“Did you ever see Alex while you were out there?” I ask.

At the mention of my younger sister, Will chokes on his latte. Ren helpfully smacks him on his back, still bickering with Poppy.

“What are you doing here? Ren said you were in town for a bachelorette party or something? Shouldn’t you be there?” Will asks when he’s finally able to speak.

Of course, that brings everyone’s attention to me. I sigh. “We don’t have anything for a few hours. I needed to take a walk. And try the espresso. Seriously, can someone help me make some?”

Ren and Millie exchange a knowing look and I internally groan. “Please don’t.”

“Where’s Hunter?” Millie asks, waggling her eyebrows.

“Sleeping. Will, can you help me figure out this machine while my siblings relentlessly interrogate me?”

Luckily, everyone has pity on me. Will shows me how to use the espresso machine, and Ren and Millie stop asking questions.

The five of us fall into an easy, familiar rhythm, laughing and reminiscing about growing up together. Poppy and Will have been a part of our lives so long that they were at the house when our parents brought the twins home from the hospital.

We’re surprised into silence by my dad coming into the kitchen in a robe. His red hair is tinged with gray, and there’s a five o’

clock shadow darkening his face.

Will, Poppy, Millie, and Ren stare wide-eyed at him. I take a sip of my drink, eyes volleying between the group of them and my dad, who’s working the espresso machine.

“Good morning, Dad,” Millie says cautiously. “Sleep well?”

“Good morning, offspring,” Dad chuckles, his back to us. “I slept fine, until my home decidedly didn’t sound like empty-nesters lived here.”

“You’re not empty-nesters, yet,” Ren reminds him. “You can’t be an empty-nester till all of us move out, and Izzy and Leo still live here part time.”

“Semantics,” Dad shrugs. “Your mom decided she wanted espresso, so she’s getting espresso.”

Millie dry heaves.

“Shut up,” I swat her with the back of my hand. “It’s cute!”

“And then we’re going to have wild, animal sex,” Dad continues, watching intently as the espresso machine starts to work its inexplicable magic.

“This is your fault!” Ren hisses, pointing a menacing finger at Millie. “You had to overreact to a cute thing and now I have to picture our parents having wild, animal sex!”

Millie gives him the finger.

“Emilia,” Dad chastises, back to us. “Don’t be rude to your brother.”

“How did he know?” Poppy asks, eyes wide. “How does he always know?”

“Superpowers from seminary.” Dad finally turns and faces us, doing a double take when his eyes land on me. “Joey! What a pleasant surprise. Decided to crash the breakfast club over here since you’re in town?”

“What’s the breakfast club?” Will asks.

“A movie from the eighties,” Millie answers helpfully.

“You fools using my espresso machine every morning,” Dad clarifies.

“Wait. You know?” Poppy asks nervously.

He gives her a pointed look. “Of course I know. Who do you think wakes up early and unlocks the door for you?” We stare at him in various degrees of shock as he looks between the five of us. “You didn’t think your mother and I just…accidentally left the backdoor unlocked overnight?”

There’s an awkward silence as it sinks in that that’s exactly what we all thought.

He scowls at us. “You think so little of me and I always make sure we have freshly ground espresso in the house. The disrespect.”

Millie sniffs, and wipes at her eyes. “Thanks, Dad.” Her voice is shaky. “That’s nice of you. These mornings mean a lot to me.”

Ren and I exchange confused glances out of the corner of our eyes. It’s a running joke that bubbly Izzy is the odd one out of the Quinn women. The rest of us are grumpy and harsh, and Millie may be the most menacing of us all.

She and Leo were the only ones to inherit dad’s fiery red hair, though Leo’s is more muted. She’s a tattoo artist, and she has her own artwork all over her body, giving her a rugged look that the old townies in Port Haven don’t exactly love. She has a septum piercing and is rarely seen without her winged eyeliner, even this early in the morning.

She’s tough, we all are. But unlike Kat, Nic, Alex, and Izzy, who cry at Budweiser commercials, Millie and I are the stoic ones. I haven’t cried since before Kelsey left, and I can count on one hand the times I saw Millie cry in her twenty-four years of life.

But here she is, all teary-eyed because our dad unlocks the door early enough so their kids and their friends can think they’re sneakily using their espresso machine. For some reason, this show of emotion has me thinking of Hunter. Hunter who wears her heart on her sleeve despite being rejected and hurt. Hunter, who hasn’t asked anything of me, just offered me compassion and understanding. Hunter, who smells like magnolias and springtime rain. Hunter, who once told me she loves shooting weddings because she creates a reason for couples to look back at their happiest day.

“I have to go,” I say, getting up from the stool abruptly. “Thanks for the espresso.” I wince when looking at the mug. I took two, maybe three sips from it, and feel guilty about wasting it.

But not guilty enough to stay.