Chapter 2: Family Ties, Family Lies

Now that Mason and I are officially married, meeting the parents was bound to happen.

I won’t lie—I dreaded it. But hey, it’s the American way—no getting out of family introductions, especially in small-town Ohio.

When I brought Mason home to Maple Heights, my stepsister Lindsey stared at him the whole time. I knew right away—she was totally eyeing him.

You know that look—like a kid sizing up the last piece of cake. Lindsey always wanted whatever was mine.

She’s been taking my things since we were little. But Mason isn’t something she can just take from me.

She once stole my favorite bike and rode it around the block like she owned the place. But Mason? He’s not a toy you can borrow and bring back.

During just one meal, my mom and her family managed to dig up every single detail about Mason’s background.

They grilled him like it was Thanksgiving and he was the turkey. Where he grew up, what his parents did, how much he made—nothing was off the table. I almost felt bad for him. Almost.

That day, I wasn’t feeling great—my period had me wiped out—so Mason went to the kitchen to make me hot cocoa with marshmallows.

He even used almond milk because he remembered I’m lactose intolerant. That’s just how thoughtful he is—always remembering the little things.

While he was busy, my mom leaned over and said, "Autumn, your husband’s great, but honestly, he’s not really your type."

"How about this—why not let your sister have him?"

"Your sister’s lively and pretty. She and he just look so much better together than you two do."

I laughed out loud. Seriously, how much nerve does my mom have to say something like that?

It was the kind of laugh that says, "Wow, are you for real right now?" I almost choked on my mashed potatoes.

My sister is my mom’s daughter with her new husband, and she’s got her dad’s looks: puffy eyelids, wide, watery eyes, a flat nose. She started getting cosmetic surgery at eighteen. She looks better now, but you can spot the work from a mile away.

She tries to act like it’s all natural, but come on—anyone with eyes can see she’s had work done. I’ll give her this: her confidence is off the charts.

My mom got irritated when I didn’t answer. "You’re so stubborn—you’re the older sister. Can’t you be generous and let your sister have your husband?"

She let out a dramatic sigh. "Raising you was such a waste—you’re so ungrateful."

She always pulls that card when things don’t go her way. I’ve heard it a hundred times—she never gets tired of it.

I was honestly floored by my mom’s nerve. How can she say this stuff with a straight face?

Sometimes I think she missed her calling as a poker player. She could bluff anyone at the table.

After my parents split, my dad sent her child support every month, but she barely spent a dime of it on me. She never bought me new clothes or toys. The neighbors, feeling sorry for me, would hand down their kids’ old clothes. Even my stepdad’s mom would secretly dip into her savings to help me out.

I still remember the smell of those old clothes—faded detergent, someone else’s perfume. At least I was warm, though.

By the time I was seven or eight, I was doing my own laundry and cooking for myself. When I got older, I started working summer jobs to pay for my own school supplies and books. I’ve come this far on my own, and I’m proud of it.

My first paycheck was from the Dairy Queen on Main Street. I bought my own backpack—bright blue, with my initials stitched on. I still have it somewhere in the attic.

But my mom treated my sister like royalty—spoiled her rotten. If my sister wanted anything I had, my mom would help her get it.

Lindsey was her little princess. If I had a new book, Lindsey would get one too—sometimes before I’d even finished mine.

So, looking back, it’s no shock my mom would say something so outrageous.

At this point, it’s basically tradition. She always takes Lindsey’s side, no matter what.

Soon enough, Mason came over with the cocoa. My mom and stepsister had the good sense to go quiet real fast.

You could hear a pin drop. Mason has that effect—he walks in, and suddenly everyone’s on their best behavior.

"It’s still hot. Let me feed you," he said, voice soft but firm.

He blew across the surface and held the mug to my lips. The whole room faded away for a second.

He was so gentle, it was like we were the only two people in the world. For a moment, I actually forgot where I was.

I felt a little embarrassed. "There are people here, I can do it myself."

My cheeks burned, but Mason just smiled, totally unbothered.

Mason’s eyes sparkled. "I’m feeding my wife hot cocoa—who’s gonna complain?"

He said it like a dare, looking around the room, just waiting for someone to speak up. I swear, sometimes I think he lives to make people jealous.

Lindsey forced a smile. "Of course we wouldn’t mind. Seeing you treat my sister so well, we’re just so happy for her."

She said it through gritted teeth, her jealousy practically radiating off her. If looks could kill, I’d be toast.

"So jealous of my sister—she’s got such a good man. Just a few cramps, and her husband brings her cocoa himself. If people didn’t know better, they’d think she’d broken her arm."

She was basically calling me dramatic.

Classic Lindsey—always finding a way to throw shade, even with a fake smile.

Too bad for her, Mason doesn’t process things like most people.

He’s got a sixth sense for this stuff. The second anyone tries to cross me, he’s on it in a heartbeat.

He slammed the mug down on the coffee table. "Are you wishing bad luck on Autumn?"

The sound echoed through the living room. Everyone froze—even the dog looked up from his bed.

His voice was cold as ice, and Lindsey looked like she’d just been stared down by a wolf. She started crying. "That’s not what I meant! I was just giving you a compliment, Mason!"

Tears streamed down her face, but Mason didn’t even blink. He just stared, unimpressed.

Mason snorted. "You’d better be."

The finality in his tone was unmistakable. Lindsey’s tears dried up real quick.

It took her a while to pull herself together. Watching Mason fuss over me only made her more jealous. "Mason, actually, I’m on my period too. Can you make me some cocoa?"

Her voice was so syrupy, it gave me goosebumps.

She batted her lashes, trying to look helpless. I almost gagged on my cocoa.

Mason sneered. "What, you forget how to do it yourself? Are your arms broken or something?"

He didn’t even glance up from his phone. That’s how little he cared.

Lindsey pouted. "But you made it for my sister…"

She was laying it on thick, but Mason wasn’t buying any of it.

"Autumn is my wife. And you? What makes you think you deserve it?" Mason shot back, his contempt clear as day.

He said it so coldly, it felt like the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. Even my mom looked uncomfortable.

Lindsey couldn’t handle the humiliation. She covered her mouth and ran to her room.

Her footsteps echoed down the hallway. I didn’t even think about stopping her.

I enjoyed Mason’s over-the-top protectiveness as I watched the drama unfold. He really is a tough nut—no way Lindsey could sink her teeth into him. She’s lucky she didn’t chip a tooth trying.

I sipped my cocoa and watched the door swing shut behind her. Oddly satisfying.

A little while later, Lindsey pulled herself together and came back out. Spotting me alone in the living room, she shot me a look that could curdle milk. "Autumn Miller, don’t get too smug. If I could steal your design work back then, I can steal your husband now."

She always liked to play the villain, but this was a new level—even for her.

"Oh? Go ahead and try."

My tone was cool, but inside, my heart was pounding.

On the inside, I was bracing for whatever came next. Lindsey had crossed lines before—this time, I wasn’t letting her win.

Back in my freshman year, I wanted to study architecture abroad and spent months drawing up designs to send to a top school. Lindsey stole them and submitted them under her own name. She got into my dream school; I was left behind in Ohio.

It still stings. I remember crying into my pillow, wondering how someone could be so heartless. But eventually, I picked myself up and moved on.

But without my designs, she was nothing—just a pretty face with nothing to back it up. She barely scraped through, taking two extra years to graduate.

She floundered, failed classes, and eventually limped across the finish line. Meanwhile, I built my own path from scratch, step by step.

It’s my biggest regret. I still feel it sometimes.

Sometimes I wonder what might have been. But then I look at Mason, and I know I ended up exactly where I belong.

If it weren’t for Grandma Ruth’s kindness, I’d have wanted nothing to do with the Miller family. But she moved in with her youngest son and isn’t around these days.

Grandma Ruth always had a soft spot for me. She’d sneak me cookies and whisper that I was meant for bigger things. I miss her warmth more than I can say.

"What are you two talking about?" Mason’s voice came from behind, making Lindsey jump. Seeing his bored expression, she instantly switched to sweet mode. "Mason, I just graduated and haven’t found a job yet. Since you run a design firm, could you let me intern there?"

She fluttered her lashes, playing the innocent card. I almost rolled my eyes into next week.

Mason gave her a long, unreadable look, then said, "Sure, whatever."

He didn’t blink. His voice was so neutral, you’d think he was talking about the weather.

"Mason, you’re the best! I just love you to pieces!"

She said it loud, hoping for a reaction. Mason just nodded, his face a total blank.

Mason’s smile was all for show. "Just doing what’s expected."

He knew all about what Lindsey did to me back then. She was in for a rude awakening.

He’d already told me he had a plan. Watching Lindsey walk straight into her own trap was almost entertaining.

She thought she’d finally hooked him, grinning like she’d won the lottery. Sometimes, ignorance really is bliss.

She practically skipped out of the room, humming to herself. I almost felt bad for her. Almost.