Free Fall for Me by JC Emery Page A

jeans and a flowy tank. I never changed out of the sun dress I threw on over my swimsuit this afternoon. It’s chilly out, but every time I get cold enough to think about going back inside, I just take a sip of whiskey and wait for it to warm me up.
    “What are you doing out here?”
    “Just thinking.” I don’t lie to Claire, not now that we’re adults. Back when we were kids, I lied to her all the time. I never felt bad about it either, and why would I? Lying got my butt out of trouble, so I considered it a worthy sin.
    “About the man or the drink?” she asks and nods at the bottle in my hands.
    The breeze picks up, making me shudder, and I take another sip. “Am I that transparent?”
    “They don’t know you well enough to see it,” she says. “But my little sister, who can barely handle champagne and loves the spotlight, is drinking Jameson straight from the bottle, all alone on the porch, at her own birthday party.”
    “She sounds pathetic.” Another sip.
    “Not pathetic.” Her smile is warm and bright—that I can see despite the darkness. There’s little point in hiding out if you’re going to make it so everyone can see you. “She’s just young and a little spoiled. Used to getting what she wants and is sulking because, for perhaps the first time in her life, she can’t have her way.”
    I take a sip.
    And then another. The second is larger than the first and doesn’t go down nearly as smoothly.
    “Wow,” I say in fake astonishment. “You kind of suck right now.”
    “Curse of being the older sister.” She leans over and pats my thigh. I’m distracted by the move, and before I can stop her, she’s taken the bottle from my hands. I pout but don’t fight it. She’s right, I’m not much of a drinker and don’t really want to push it tonight. Puke-y twenty-firsts are so pedestrian.
    “Look, you’re going to get your ass up and go in there and celebrate your twenty-motherfucking-first birthday with your friends like you’re supposed to. You’re going to flirt with the hot single firefighter, and you’re going to let Royal convince you to do a shot with her. You’re going to smile when it’s time to cut your cake, and you’re not going to waste one more minute on a man who’s unavailable.”
    I nod and pull myself up in the lounger so I can stand, giving her leg a little kick on my way to my feet. She stands and shifts the bottle to her right hand and wraps her left arm around my shoulders. We walk into the brightly lit house that’s full of people I actually like and care for, but it feels empty.
    “He said he’d come,” I say quietly. Obviously, I crossed a line the other day that there’s no coming back from.
    Claire squeezes me closer to her and places a kiss to the top of my head as she whispers, “I know, Sissy.”
    Granted, I didn’t tell him it was my birthday, but he should have come. He said he would, and I picked out beach games and music I thought he might like. It was stupid to plan my birthday to suit him, but I do stupid things, and this is just one more to add to the list, so it’s really no big deal. I know Jameson has a girlfriend—one he lives with, which is like way adult—and even though he still calls me Lulu every time he sees me, he’s given no further indication that he wants anything more than friendship from me. I’ve just allowed myself to concoct this alternate reality where he’s secretly pining for me and is waiting for the right time to make his move.
    But he hasn’t broken up with Lydia even though, by all accounts from his family, she’s not exactly a winner. Beautiful, sure, but rather cold, which doesn’t fit the Hayes family one bit. They’re a tightly wound unit, and each member cares for their family as a whole very deeply. It’s one of my favorite things about them.
    Enough about Jameson , I mentally chastise myself. I deserve better. I deserve a man who wants me enough to complicate his life to be with me. Not some stupid,