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Owen smiles, trying to change the subject. “I saw an interview you gave on TV the other day. It seems people are really enjoying your last album.”

I nod, smiling back. “Yeah, I wasn’t sure how this one was going to go over, but it’s been really nice to see people’s responses to it. We actually met someone on the way up here who was so into my music. It was a little uncomfortable, but kind of nice at the same time.”

Owen nods politely, interested enough to keep listening, but not enough to ask any questions or anything. Hazel is already on her phone, sending a message. I know without asking that it’s going to be something related to the festival or one of the family businesses.

When you live in Hope Falls and you’re in this family, everything in your life revolves around the town and the businesses the family runs.

My parents come in and sit down on the couch, and Hazel immediately turns to Mom and starts filling her in on something about the festival. “One of the vendors is going to be late setting up. Because of the weather, some shipment he needed didn’t come in on time.”

Mom’s face tightens with disapproval. “It sounds like he should have planned better. We told all the vendors how important this is, and they should have understood that.”

“I think this snowstorm kind of threw everyone off,” I offer, trying to give the poor guy the benefit of the doubt.

“It’s winter, Brynn,” Mom says. “Snowstorms happen. People have been on the vendor list for this since July.”

I don’t even argue with her about that. There’s no point.

My dad takes over the conversation then, smiling at me. “So besides the trip from hell to get here, how are you, Brynn?”

“Good,” I tell him. “Tired with the run up to Christmas and all the travel I was doing for the album and everything, but other than that, it’s been good.”

“I wish you would have chartered a jet or something to get you here for this,” Dad says. “We need you at your best for the festival.”

Of course. It always comes back to the festival these days. “I’ll get a good night’s sleep tonight and that should be enough to get me to bounce back,” I tell him, forcing a smile. “Don’t worry about me. I know how important this is to you.”

“To us,” Mom insists. “To our family. We’ve had a good run with how disgraced the Thorntons have been these last few years. Now that they’re trying to bounce back,” she says it with disdain, “we have to be better than ever to stay ahead of them.”

“It is crazy that Graham Thornton was able to survive a whole tax fraud scandal and not lose everything,” Hazel says, shaking her head. “People have gone to jail for less.”

Dad sits back in his chair. “It’s ridiculous, but he’s a well-connected man. Some people were willing to overlook his crimes because of the ‘things he’s done for the town’.” He rolls his eyes. “As if he’s the only one doing things for the town.”

Probably no one meant that, but if there’s one thing my dad can get worked up about, it’s hating the Thorntons. He was gleeful when Ares’ dad was exposed, hoping that that would be the thing that finally destroyed them.

The conversation moves from there to more festival prep and Hazel talking about how the social media for the town’s festival committee has been more popular than ever lately. Our parents praise her for her ingenuity with it, and it becomes even more clear that I have nothing to contribute to any of this.

It’s the same problem as always. My parents love me, my family is happy I’m here, but there isn’t anything they care about more than the town and their standing in it. Everything else is secondary. Beyond cursory questions, they don’t want to know about my life or what I’m doing, and they insist on focusing on the fact that I’m not here with them.

I half listen to the story Owen is telling, smiling and nodding along, but it’s hard to be interested when I don’t have anything to add.

It feels shitty, to be honest, and I can feel myself starting to spiral about it. I keep thinking that I should add something to the conversation, so I’m not just sitting here like an idiot, but there’s nothing I can say. The thought won’t leave me though. I’m tired and run down, and this is uncomfortable enough that I wish I was back in the car with Ares, Callan, and Tate, where at least I’d be included in the conversation.

I find myself tapping my leg to a silent count, trying to calm myself down. It’s hard to sit still when my head feels like it’s going a mile a minute, but I know from experience that my parents won’t take it well if I say something about needing some space. They’ve never understood my OCD, not even when a doctor tried to talk to them about it. The last thing I want is a lecture about it now.

Eventually, the conversation dries up and Owen gets up and starts gathering up plates.

“I should head out,” he says. “I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

“Me too,” Hazel agrees.

There’s the usual flurry of hugs and ‘it was good to see yous’, and when the two of them leave for their own homes in town, the house feels emptier and quieter. It’s always easier in a way when my siblings are here, because they take some of the heat off me with our parents.

“I think I’m going to head to bed,” I say before Mom and Dad can start talking again. “I’m worn out from the drive.”

Mom frowns, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Brynn, it’s not even ten yet.”

“I know, but it’s been a really long day. And you said yourself that I need to be well rested for the festival. I want to be able to give it my all, you know?”

That clears the upset looks from their faces immediately. Being able to brag that Brynn Carter is their daughter is important to them. Me being successful makes the family look good, even if they don’t really understand my choice to pursue my career away from them.