Chapter 1

Lily

My eyes are beginning to ache. I rub them, trying to relieve their throbbing while keeping one eye on the road before me. As I drive, the relentless sun overhead keeps getting in my eyes, reflecting off the highway and other vehicles on the road with me. God, I hate driving. But there's nothing for it; I had to get out of Brookhaven. I drive north doggedly, chasing the tantalizing promise of a fresh start. My steadfast companion, Mango, is safely tucked away in his crate in the backseat. He makes a little grumble of discontent as if he senses I'm thinking about him. I glance over my shoulder to make sure he's okay. His orange-striped fur seems to glow in the late afternoon light, his citrine eyes reflecting the bright sun.

"You okay, baby? Do you need a break?"

"Mrow."

"Okay, I hear ya. I'll pull over at the next exit, and we'll stretch our legs," I promise.

My brows furrow as I watch the same semi-truck that I haven't been able to get away from start to pass me once again. I'm getting really annoyed with this guy – he keeps speeding up and passing around me, only to slow down once he gets in front of me. And I hate driving behind big trucks. It makes me nervous when I can't see the road in front of me because some massive vehicle is blocking my view.

"Really? Again?"

Casting a glance toward the rearview mirror to check the traffic behind me, I catch sight of myself. The heavy, dark bags under my hazel eyes tell the tale of recent sleepless nights. My hair, usually a riot of chestnut, now lies limp and lifeless. Each strand looks as frayed as I feel.

My skin looks paler than usual, making the bags under my eyes even more pronounced. I hardly recognize the woman staring back at me.

"So what if I look like the walking dead," I mutter, forcing a tired smile onto my face. "At least I'm still walking."

As the adage goes – this too shall pass. Just like the truck as it once again zooms past me.

Around me, the car hums and rattles, crammed with all my meager belongings. I can't believe my entire life fits inside a single car. How have I reached the age of 29 with so little to show for it? I know exactly how, but I force my mind away from that train of thought.

I'm reaching for the dial on the radio, ready to drown out my morose thoughts when my phone rings. Saved by the bell.

The caller ID flashes "Aunt Zinnia".

"Mango, it's your favorite person in the whole world, Aunt Zizi," I announce, glancing in the rearview mirror at my cat's crate. At the sound of Aunt Zizi's name, Mango lets out a rumbling purr. His ears prick up, and those golden eyes seem to sparkle.

"Oh, you like that, do you?" I chide playfully, a half-grimace, half-smile tugging at the edges of my mouth. "You know, you never made such a fuss over Marcus. Should've known then he wasn't for me – not if he couldn't charm you." With a soft scoff and shake of my head, I tap the green button, putting my aunt on speaker.

"Lilith! How's the trip going so far? Are you still planning to arrive by Friday?" Aunt Zinnia's voice comes over the speaker just as chirpy and vibrant as ever.

I glance at the GPS and respond, "Yes, Aunt Zizi, I'm still on track. I'll be on your doorstep in just a few days."

"I'm glad you're coming. You know that there will always be a place for you in my home," Aunt Zizi reminds me.

"Of course, I know that. And… thank you. Again. I don't know what I'd do without you. You've been a lifesaver."

Memories whisper at me from the back corners of my mind. I was fifteen, raw with grief and confusion, my world shattered by the loss of my parents in a car accident. Suddenly, Aunt Zinnia was there. She traded her life of carefree solitude – her globe-trotting and love for the unknown – to patch the remnants of my fragmented world. She took in a shy, introverted kid and gave me space to be myself, even though I am as different from Zizi as could be. She's the life of the party. However, I have always felt welcomed and loved by her. She held me as I cried into the wee hours, put up with my teen angst like a pro, and even changed her career path to stay local while I lived with her. Her life – full of vibrant energy and endless adventures – was put on pause so that I could have some semblance of normalcy. A few years later, when I packed my bags for college, she picked up where she'd left off and returned to her roaming, but our bond was forever changed; solidified into something as solid as steel and profoundly beautiful.

Over a decade later, I find myself again on the cusp of life-altering change, and Aunt Zizi is once more offering shelter from the storm.

"Despite the unfortunate circumstances, I'm so excited to have you come home. However, you should take some detours – see some of the country. Take some time to rest and recuperate. Enjoy your newfound freedom now that you've ditched the loser. Maybe even get laid. The house isn't going anywhere and will be waiting for you. Go on an adventure! You deserve it."

"Maybe next time. Right now, I feel adrift and want a place to plant my feet. All I want to do is sit on my butt, read a good book, and eat my weight in ice cream. Once I feel better, maybe I'll go on some adventures. Zizi, do you ever just… stop?" I ask, pushing a strand of hair back from my face. "You're always on the go. Don't you ever just want to relax?"

"Relax?" she asks, sounding skeptical. "And do what?"

"I don't know. Just… breathe." I bite my lip, unsure how to explain my need for solitude and peace. "I just need to find a place to settle and recover for a while before diving headfirst into a job search. Or dating." I grimace at the thought of putting myself back into the dating pool. I'd rather get a root canal than download a dating app.

Keeping a wary eye on the semi-truck changing lanes ahead of me, I add, "Now is just not the time for an adventure."

At that, Aunt Zizi laughs. It's a warm, easy sound that brings comfort in its familiarity. "Lilith," she says, "there's no time like the present for an adventure. Why delay when you could seize the day?"

"Maybe once I've recovered, Zizi."

"But that's the beauty of life, my dear; I find that having an adventure is the key to healing," Aunt Zizi replies. "And you never know when an adventure is around the corner."

I smile at her enthusiasm but don't give her any false hope with an answer. I'm a bit of a homebody, especially compared to her. Most of my adventures are found inside a book, not in the real world.

"To be honest, Lily, I'm glad you finally dumped that loser. I can now dismantle my sacrificial altar to the gods. I've been praying that Marcus would be hit by a bus and you'd finally be rid of his dead weight."

Well, damn, Aunt Zizi, how do you really feel?

"Oh, come on, Zizi. He wasn't that bad."

"No, you're right. He was worse. You spent the last few years walking on so many eggshells around him that I'm surprised your feet don't have scars."

I huff an exasperated breath at her hyperbole, but Aunt Zizi is on a roll.

"That prick turned weaponized incompetence into an art form. Oh, Lily, you do it. You're soooo much better at doing the laundry than me. I don't understand how to not ‘accidentally' put a red sock in with your whites." Zizi's voice has taken on a nasally, whiny tone that makes me grimace because she isn't wrong – about Marcus's poor-me voice or his manipulations.

"Oh, Lily-bear – I hated the nickname, by the way – can you make all my appointments for me? And then, when you try to tell me you're overwhelmed, I'll turn it around until you're apologizing to me because you hurt my little momma's boy feelings. Wah wah wah."

Alright, the fake crying is a bit much, but Zizi's antics are pulling me out of my funk. Just like I'm sure she's intending. "Okay. Okay, Aunt Zizi!" I interrupt her recreation of a toddler's temper tantrum. "I get it. Marcus was a dick."

"A dickless dick," I hear Aunt Zizi mutter angrily under her breath, but I let it go and move on.

"He really was. Disappointing on all fronts now that I'm letting myself be honest." I blow out a breath and redirect my thoughts to better things. "Is there anything you need me to pick up on the way?" I offer as a distraction from Aunt Zizi's current ‘I-hate-Marcus' boner.

"No, the house is ready for you. As you know, I won't be home when you arrive. But I'll be back in two weeks. I've already cleared out the spare room, so everything is ready. It'll be just like old times! The two of us back together again. Although I hate the circumstances, I'm excited to have you home, Lily. Don't forget, the spare key is hidden under the gnome in the front yard. You'll find it easily," she says, referring to the garden gnome we picked up together in Germany's Black Forest not long before I left for college. It was our last hurrah before I needed to buckle down and work toward getting my nursing degree.

I suppress a laugh at that. "Got it. The gnome is the gatekeeper. How's New Zealand?"

"It's gorgeous, of course. However, I wish I could've canceled this trip so I'd be home when you arrive. But I booked the tickets months ago, and my deadline is fast approaching."

"Aunt Zizi, no way. I will be fine on my own for a couple of weeks. I don't want to interfere with your work or your life." Feeling guilty, I redirect my aunt's attention. "So, what's on your itinerary next?"

"I'm going to see the Waitomo Glowworm caves! I've chartered a small boat to explore the caves, you know, to give it a more intimate touch. It's home to thousands of tiny bioluminescent glowworms. It's supposed to be breathtaking," she says. Her voice brims with infectious excitement.

I laugh at her enthusiasm. "Are you serious, Aunt Zizi? Worms?"

A dark, damp cave filled with worms, even ones that glowed, did not sound like a good time to me. The idea of being underground with tons of earth weighing down over my head and filled with slimy bugs fills me with a kind of primordial revulsion that makes a shudder run down my spine.

"Oh, yes. I can just imagine all the amazing photos I'm gonna get! It's going to make for one hell of a magazine spread. I hope the photographer I've hired will be able to get good shots. The last guy was a total dud."

It seems like no unknown fear or the dark looming caves can deter the unwavering spirit of Aunt Zinnia. But then again, that's Aunt Zizi, a fearless adventurer with the heart of a wanderer. Always seeking the new, the exciting, the extraordinary.

"Enough about me, darling," Zizi urges, "how are you doing? You know, after Marcus?"

The mention of his name stings, but I swallow the pain down and muster a slight chuckle. Mostly, I'm just embarrassed. I should've walked away much sooner than I did. Deep down, I'd known a year ago that our relationship was over. Marcus had turned me into a nag who had to beg for any crumb of attention. He had been too busy playing games on his computer and letting me carry all the emotional – and physical – weight of our relationship.

I was done accepting crumbs – being alone was better than settling for that.

"I'm doing fine, Aunt Zizi. I am. This is exactly what I need – a new beginning. I'm done putting all the effort into someone and getting nothing in return, you know what I mean?" I say, smiling at Mango, the only male in my life I'm willing to put any effort towards.

"You need to stop being a rehabilitation program for broken men. You need a whole, emotionally healthy man," Aunt Zizi teases, laughter in her voice. "Not someone you need to fix."

"From your lips to God's—"

The semi-truck in front of me suddenly switches lanes again, pulling my attention back to the traffic and away from the conversation with Aunt Zizi. The truck's movements reveal a sign for an exit that was obscured until now. ‘LUBLIN HARBOR' it reads in bold, blocky letters. Underneath the name, a placard hangs, the fresh paint gleaming a cheery yellow. "Springtime Festival!" it proclaims enthusiastically in a loopy, playful script.

I can already imagine the sounds of celebration, the colorful stalls, the smell of funnel cakes, and maybe even blooming flowers. Festivals always seem to have a life of their own, an effervescent energy that transcends the ordinary and invites participants to forget their worries for a while. Perhaps Lublin Harbor's Springtime Festival will offer that much-needed escape.

Almost on automatic pilot, I flip my blinker and maneuver the car towards the right, preparing for the exit. "I gotta go, Aunt Zizi. There's an exit up ahead. I need to stretch my legs and get some food. Plus, Mango could use some fresh air," I announce, excitement lacing each word. "There's this town, Lublin Harbor, advertising a springtime festival. Sounds like the kind of adventure you'd prescribe."

"That's the spirit," she crows. "Go have some fun! And maybe get laid!"

"Zizi!" I exclaim, half laughing and half exasperated.

As I end the call with Aunt Zizi, I take the exit to Lublin Harbor.