Page 3 of Knowing Amelia

Sighing, I walk over, giving my mother a side squeeze.

“It’s so good to see you, darling.”

“Right. I can tell.” I glare over at Benjamin and Dad. My father is flailing his arms about, his mouth running, no doubt telling Ben about some crazy case he’s been working on while Ben eats up every bit of it.

“Jonathon.” Mom taps her toe on the tiled floor. “Your daughter is home.”

Stopping mid-sentence, my father finally looks over. “There she is,” he says, leaving Ben to sit alone and moving past Katie. “Hello, Livy girl.” Dad wraps me up, pulling me into one of his award-winning hugs, and my anger melts away with the embrace.

“Hi, Dad. It’s good to see you.” I snuggle into his side as if I were eight years old again and nothing could go wrong as long as he’s around.

“You’ll be seeing a lot of me. Eh? Eh?” He nudges my side, referring to the jobs he got for Ben and me this summer. “Ben told me about Ofero’s class⁠—”

“Oh, I know. I heard.” I resist rolling my eyes. That’s all Ben has talked about—Dad’s old law professor. I did not need to hear again how he thought Ben was Dad’s biological child at first sight. “Hey, Mom, where do you want Ben? I’m gonna bring in the bags.” I need air and space and less Ofero talk. Plus, we have two cars packed to the brim.

“Grayson’s old room.”

“I’ll help, babe,” Benjamin says, getting to his feet. “How was the drive?”

“Celine got me through. Wait until you see my brother’s room.” I glance at Ben, suppressing a laugh. “Everything is alphabetized, even his little league trophies.”

Mom kept all our old bedrooms just as we left them. Coming home meant falling back into our growing-up days. And sure, I may be twenty-two, but I love it. My green walls, my bookshelves, my safe haven from the world. Even now as a very grown, not-quite-graduated adult, I relish being in my childhood bedroom.

Dad points a finger my way. “Now wait a minute. He learned that alphabetizing hack from me, and it can be very useful.”

Benjamin tucks his long fingers into the pockets of his trousers. “I was just thinking that actually sounds like an ingenious idea.” He smiles as if he’s never heard of alphabetizing before.

Katie, leaning against the wall, peeks up from her phone. She rolls her eyes at Ben’s remark—thank you, baby sister. My sentiment exactly.

“Oh, Livy.” Mom’s voice falters. She drops her spatula to the counter and steps over, facing me, though Ben’s second sandwich is still in her pan. “Katie started cheerleading…”

“Yeah.” I furrow my brow, unsure why Katie and cheerleading are causing that wrinkle over her forehead. “I know. So?”

Mom’s hands flail. “She’s got all this extra stuff around the house.”

Dad slinks back with her words, returning to sit at the table.

Katie peers up from her phone again, her face paling.

“So. Much. Stuff,” Mom says.

Katie slides herself over until her shoulder brushes Mom’s. “Pom-poms.”

“Yes.” Mom points at Katie. “And uniforms and shoes,” she says, ticking off Katie’s items on her fingers.

“It’s crazy,” Katie spouts.

Mom clears her throat, her hands together in front of her. “Sweetheart, once Grayson moved out, it seemed silly to have these extra rooms and Katie in the smallest of them. So⁠—”

“You gave Katie my room?” My voice squeaks with accusation. It’s just a room. I shouldn’t care. But I do. I swallow down the hurt and grit my teeth. “So, I’m in Katie’s room then?”

Katie cringes.

“I mean, her old room.” I huff out a breath and sweeten my tone. “It’s fine. Come on, Benjamin.”

We grab a couple bags from our cars and head back into the house. Leading Ben down the hall of our childhood bedrooms, I nod toward the first door. “This is where I’ll stay. The next right is your room.”

I stand in front of my sister’s bedroom door, Benjamin behind me still. I pull in a breath and step inside. What was I expecting, all my things set up just as they had been in my old room? Seems fair.