Sorry for the long wait! Finals, work, and Christmas have made the past few weeks way too hectic for any free time. But thanks to those who reviewed! I really appreciate it. And please enjoy

Chapter 7

"Hey Dad," I answer my phone, shoving my toothbrush, hairbrush, and some of my makeup into an overnight bag. "Are you on your way?"

"Um." My dad coughs awkwardly, and my heart plummets. Of course. "You see Sweetheart, this case in Tacoma isn't going as smoothly as planned."

"Oh, so you're still in Tacoma?" I state, my voice filled with embarrassingly too much hope. "So you'll be here in about, what? Three or four hours?"

He sighs. "Sweetheart, I'm going to be here until at least Sunday, and by that point the weekend will be over. There won't be any sense going back to Port Angeles for a few hours before heading back to Tacoma for the week."

"But Dad, this was supposed to be our weekend." I sound whinier than I want to, but I can't hide my disappointment. As much as I complained about seeing my dad, I do miss him. Plus, I was looking forward to spending a few hours with Erica.

"I know, I know," he concedes. I can hear papers ruffling; I figure he's still at his Tacoma office – not even at the hotel. "But we'll do something extra special your next weekend up. I promise."

Angrily, I pull my toiletries out of my bag and hastily put them back into their places. "The next time I'm supposed to come up is the week before the wedding. I'm not coming up. We've already been over this!" I exclaim, stomping from the bathroom into my bedroom.

"Andy, I'm so sorry. Why don't you come up next weekend instead? I'll make sure I'm home."

"I can't, Dad. We're picking up the dresses in Seattle next weekend." Tears prick at the back of my eyes as I put my clothes back into the drawer. I shouldn't be getting upset. It's barely been over two weeks since the last time I saw him. "I'll just see you after the wedding I guess."

"I'm sorry, Andy," he sighs. "I really am."

"It's fine." My voice cracks. "I'm used to it."

"Cassandra," he exasperates. "I'm sorry. Work has just been so hectic."

"And it always will be. It's fine. Really."

"I'm so –"

"Goodnight, Dad. Good luck with the case." Quickly, I hit the end call button before he can apologize again. Covering my mouth with my hand, I take a deep breath. He is busy; I don't doubt that, but would it have killed him to take a weekend off? I'm his only daughter. As far as I know.

Once I've calmed down enough to hide my disappointment, I send Erica a text telling her I won't be going to Port Angeles this weekend and head downstairs. Paul and Peter are sitting at the table, chatting, while my mom is cooking supper.

She smiles cheerfully at me. "Is your dad almost here or will you have enough time to eat dinner with us?"

I return a – somewhat fake – smile, replying bitingly, "Well, I should have enough time because he's working in Tacoma all weekend."

The smile falls off my mother's face. "Oh, sweetie. Are you okay?"

Paul's head snaps in our direction, instantly concerned.

"I'm fine," I reply, forcing a laugh. "I didn't even want to go. Plus, it's not like it's a huge surprise. What's for supper?"

"Paul wanted lasagne, so," she gestures towards the oven, dropping the subject, "that's what we're having."

Scrunching my nose, I take a seat at the table beside Paul. "Really, Paul? You couldn't have picked anything else?"

He smirks. "What's wrong with lasagne?"

"You've clearly never had my mother's lasagne before."

I feel something smack the back of my head – likely the hand towel my mom had been holding. "Hey now!" she exclaims in offense.

Laughing, Peter walks over to her and pecks her cheek. "I'm sure it's great honey."

I shake my head quickly. "It's bad, Paul. We're probably going to get food poisoning and die."

Paul frowns, looking overly concerned like he didn't catch my joke and thought I was serious.

"Well then why don't you just drive yourself to Port Angeles and eat alone at your father's condo?" my mom demands, glaring mockingly at me.

"Oh I would if the roads weren't so bad that school was cancelled twice this week."

My mom rolls her eyes as she pulls the lasagne out of the oven. Eyeing it, I'm glad it's not burnt this time.

"The roads aren't even bad," Paul pipes up.

"They are for Cassie here," Peter teases, winking at me.

Crossing my arms, I complain, "Mom, I think our new family is mean and we should call off the wedding."

They all roar with laughter. "Well," she states, cutting the lasagne, "they like my cooking far more than you, so I think I might just stay."

I scoff. "I bet Paul hates it as much as I do. Right Paul?"

"I," Paul snorts, taking a plate of lasagne from my mom, "think I'll stay out of this one."

"You're a terrible step-brother," I inform him with a pout.

He grins devilishly at me. "Good."

Before I can reply, my phone begins to ring.

"When I was a kid, we weren't allowed to have phone calls at the dinner table," Mom chastises me.

Rolling my eyes, I tease, "That's because cell phones didn't exist. And it's just Ricki."

She rolls her eyes too but waves me the go ahead to answer.

In typical Ricki fashion, she doesn't give me time to say anything. "What the hell do you mean that you're not coming up this weekend?"

"Ricki, can I call you back? We're having supper."

"No you may not!" she exclaims. "We were supposed to hang out tomorrow."

"I know, I know," I sigh, sounding like my father. "But my dad's not even in town." My voice cracks and all my disappointment comes back. Right in front of the whole household. Fuck.

"So? Drive up and stay with me!"

"You know I don't like driving on highways in the winter," I whisper, turning away from everyone. Don't cry. Don't cry. Stop being so over-emotional. "And besides you're going to be down for the wedding in a few weeks."

Erica sighs in defeat. "I just miss you."

The longest Erica and I had gone without seeing each other was a week, and it was when my dad had taken me to Disney World when I was ten. With a nanny, of course, so he was able to work while I explored the Happiest Place on Earth. "I miss you too, but I have to go before you make me cry," I whispered the last part as quietly as possible. By the sympathetic look on his face, Paul definitely heard me.

The kitchen is eerily quiet when I hang up the phone. Quickly, I take a bite out of the lasagne. It's as disgusting as expected. I think she uses cottage cheese or something, because every other thing she cooks is delicious.

After what feels like forever, Paul ends the silence. "You know, I could drive you up to your friend's house if you want."

I'm slightly confused about how he heard what Ricki said, but then again, she is quite loud. "Oh no, that's okay. Thanks though."

"Are you sure? I really don't mind." I'm about to object, but Paul continues, "I have to pick something up for Dad in Port Angeles for the wedding, anyway. I was just gonna go sometime this week, but if we leave after supper I could drop you off and get there before they close."

The offer is tempting. It would be nice to see the surprised look on Erica's face if I showed up unexpectedly at her doorstep tonight. "Yeah but then I wouldn't have a car to get back with, so someone would have to come get me. And you guys are busy with wedding stuff this weekend, right?" I ask, turning to our parents.

My mother nods with a frown. "But I'm sure we'll have a few hours on Sunday to go up to get you."

"If not," Paul adds, "I can come up and get you. It's no problem."

"I couldn't possibly ask you to drive me there twice."

Taking his last bite of lasagne, Paul quips, "You'll just owe me one."

Hastily, not wanting to risk the store he's going to being closed when we get there, I finish eating, repack my bag, and am ready to head out. As we're putting on our jackets, my mom tells Paul worriedly, "Make sure you come straight back after you pick up the stuff. It's supposed to start snowing badly again tonight."

"Thanks, Marie. Don't worry I'll drive carefully." He sends me a wink. My mom quickly bats the back of his head when she catches him. "I will, I will," he promises as we head out the door.

Once we're in his truck, I shake my head chuckling. "She's such a worrywart."

Paul shrugs, backing out of the driveway. "I don't mind it. My mom's nothing like that."

I don't know much about Paul's mom, so I just squeeze his arm sympathetically.

He smiles at me and my heart races in my chest. After spending another snow day watching Once Upon a Time with Paul, it's safe to say my crush on him hasn't decreased any. It's becoming a problem. "I haven't talked to her in a couple years. I think she's still living in Tacoma."

"Maybe her and my dad are busy having a conference on how to be shitty parents," I jest, snorting at my own lame joke.

"Thought he wasn't that bad?" Paul teases back.

"He's not," I groan. "I'm just pissed at him right now."

"I'm really sorry," he says quietly, watching me more closely than the road.

"Thanks, Paul. But I just…. I don't want to talk about it."

He squeezes my knee lightly before reverting his attention back to the road. "Are you going to call Ricki?"

Laughing, I shake my head. "I think I'll just surprise her. Also, when you meet her at the wedding, please say her name without mocking it."

"No promises."

I instantly regret letting Paul drive me to Port Angeles. We're just passing through Forks, and the snow that was supposed to start later tonight has already began. "Maybe we should turn around. The roads will be really bad when you're driving back."

"Don't worry about me. I can drive in the snow," he replies somewhat cockily.

"Yeah Paul," I exclaim, slightly dramatic, "famous last words of a moron who dies in a car accident."

He bursts out laughing. "I'll be fine really."

Frowning, I take his word for it. He does seem like a good driver; at least when he's watching the road and not me. However, once we're nearing the exit to Port Angeles, the snow has turned into a full on blizzard. "I don't care what you say, I'm not letting you drive home in this."

Paul looks like he's about to object, but after inspecting the sights around us, he nods. "It's pretty bad. But I highly doubt your friend's parents would be okay with me staying there."

That was a fair assumption. Erica's parents were the most conservative people I have ever met. Like conservative enough that Ricki tells me she's afraid that they voted for Trump. But nonetheless I'm certain they wouldn't be okay with him staying there. I would pay for a hotel – not that he would ever let me do that – but you need a credit card in your name to do that….

"No… But, I'll call my dad! I have a key to his place."

"I'm not staying at your father's place by myself."

I roll my eyes. "I'll stay with you, obviously."

I'm pleased to see him try to supress a smile. "What about Ricki?"

"Stop that!" I scold, before clarifying, "She doesn't even know I'm coming. I'll just show up at her house tomorrow. She'll be equally surprised."

"You sure?" he asks concerned.

"Of course." I smile at him, pulling out my phone. "Hey Dad."

"Andy?" The shock in his voice is so evident I almost cringe. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, of course. Well kind of." I pause, cringing at the thought of what I'm about to call Paul. "My, um, step-brother drove me up to Port Angeles, but the roads are too bad for him to drive back home." I notice Paul smile as I call La Push home. It kind of just rolled off my tongue, but it felt so normal to say. "Would you mind if we crashed at your condo?"

"One second, sweetheart." I hear his hand cover his phone, before I hear multiple voices talking – muffled of course.

Quickly, I say, "I'm sorry to bother you. I know you're working. I just didn't want him driving home in this weather."

"No, no, don't apologize." He sighs. "I do have to go, though. You have your key right?"

"So it's fine?" I ask, slightly surprised.

"Yes of course." I can tell he's not really paying attention to our conversation until…. "Wait – you said he's your step-brother, right?"

Paul chuckles. I really need to turn the volume down on my phone. "Yes, Dad!"

"Okay, are you going there now?"

"No," I inform him, pointing wildly to the exit we're supposed to be taking. He rolls his eyes before mumbling under his breath that he's been here before. "We have to stop at the store then we'll be there."

"Okay, I have to go back to work. Text me when you get there. Be safe. Love you."

"Love you, too, Dad," I say to a dead line. He always hangs up fast. I guess I get that from him. "We're good to stay there. One of us will just have to sleep on the couch. It's only a two bedroom, and my dad always locks his doors when he's away."

"Why?" Paul asks, turning onto the main drag of the city.

"He has a maid," I clarify, blushing slightly. My dad was pretty rich, something I'd never been ashamed of since a lot of my friends had maids or nannies. La Push was much simpler, though. It just seems weird to talk about with Paul.

"Oooh, a maid. You never seemed like the rich kid type."

And that's why. "Paul," I groan.

He smiles, pulling into the parking lot of the store. "I'm kidding."

I roll my eyes. "Either way, I wasn't. I lived with my mom in a decent apartment and went to public school like any normal, non-rich kid." Shooting him a wink as I unbuckled my seatbelt, before teasing, "I just had damn nice vacations once a year."

He laughs. "Okay, I'll let that slide. But you stay in here. I don't want you to get sick in this weather. No buts," he adds when I'm about to object.

A smile breaks out on my face. Why does he care about my wellbeing so much? Unfortunately, I'm still giggling to myself seconds later when Paul gets back in the car.

"Whatcha smiling about?" Paul teases, buckling his seatbelt

I blush madly. "N-nothing. Why are you back so quick? Forget your wallet?"

He shakes his head, looking unimpressed. "Closed from the snow storm."

I gape. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. You came all this way for no reason."

Shrugging, he turns the car back on. "It's not for no reason. You'll get to see your friend tomorrow, and if they're open tomorrow I'll get the wedding stuff then. Besides, I'm sure your dad has a TV. We can watch some more Once Upon a Time until bed."

I laugh. "Thank you, Paul. You're so sweet."

"Nah, I just want you to think so," he jokes. "Now tell me how to get to your dad's condo."

The roads are terrible, so we're driving ridiculously slowly. It takes probably fifteen minutes longer than it should to get there. We rush from the parking lot toward the building. All his money and he couldn't afford a place with an underground parking lot? Then again, I'm not even sure if Port Angeles has a condominium like that.

While we're waiting for the elevator, we text our parents to let them know we made it safely. Paul let's his dad know that he's going to stay up here for the night. I know my mom is relieved. Paul's eyes bulge slightly when we enter my dad's unit. It's nice, but not that nice. I honestly prefer our cozy home back in La Push.

I notice Paul pick up a note on the kitchen's island. He reads, "Andy, I think there's extra blankets in the hall closet. You know where everything is. Spare credit card is on top of the fridge if you need anything. You know the pin. Love, Dad." Paul shoots me a confused look. "I thought he was in Tacoma?"

I look at the note and laugh. "That's Eleanor's handwriting. She lives next door. He must've asked her to come over and tidy up I guess – remind me of stuff."

He coughs away a snort. "He couldn't have just texted you?"

I slap his shoulder lightly. "I told you, he tries. Just in non-dad ways."

Changing the subject, he asks, "So, Andy, huh?"

I roll my eyes. "Growing up, my dad called me Andy and Erica Ricki. Which is where we got the nicknames from. They just kinda stuck. My mom used to joke that it was his way of coping with the fact that he never had a son."

Paul chuckles. "I'm sure you're much better than any son he could've had."

Smiling, I ask, "So, what should we do n—?" I stop talking and let out a squeal as everything goes black.

The storm was bad, but I didn't think it would be bad enough to lose power. When I turn to walk toward the drawer where my dad keeps flashlights and candles, I trip over one of the island's stools. I hit the floor with a bang, trying my best not to cry out in pain. "Shit."

"Oh my god," Paul exclaims in horror. Almost instantly I hear him kneel down beside me. A warm arm wraps around me and I feel his hand rest against my cheek. "Are you okay, Cassie? Are you hurt?"

I just stare at him, slightly mesmerized as the moon shines on his dimly lit face. The concern he feels for me is bewildering, but it warms my heart.

"Cassie?" His voice is rising in pitch when I don't say anything.

Then, suddenly words are flying out of my mouth before I even know what I'm saying: "Why do you have to be my step-brother?"

It's a bit of a long one, but consider it an early Christmas gift ;) Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! I hope you enjoyed, and please let me know what you think!