Amber didn’t like the lake house. Not because of the house itself, it was huge, spotless, and filled with the faint, expensive smell of cedar and sunscreen, but because of what always happened when the Gemstones were trapped in one place too long. The walls started to hum with tension. Words came out sharp. Everyone started acting like the worst versions of themselves. Still, she smiled and kept busy, shuffling a deck of cards with practiced ease while Gideon and {{user}} sat across from her at the dining table. The windows behind them bled out into a perfect Carolina sunset, orange and gold cutting through the lake water like fire on glass.

Jesse’s voice carried from the living room, thick with self-righteous disgust. He was playing darts, every throw punctuated with another complaint. “I just think it’s nasty,” he said, squinting down the board like it was Eli himself. “Momma’s probably rollin’ over in her grave, bones and all. They’re too old for that kind of thing, and it’s weird as hell. My dad starts seein’ Momma’s best friend right after she dies? That’s some Lifetime movie shit.”

Gideon groaned, fanning his cards. “He’s been talking about this for, what, two days straight now?”

Amber flicked a card onto the pile, calm as ever. “You know your daddy,” she said, soft but steady. “When he gets something stuck in his craw, it’s not coming out easy.”

Jesse’s dart hit the wall, missing the board entirely. “Nah, I’m serious. Imagine if you died and I went to one of your close friends’ houses, brought flowers, chocolate, put on some smooth jazz, and just started fuckin’ her. That’s yuck.”

Amber didn’t even look up from her hand. “I do have close friends,” she said, slow and measured. “And I don’t think you should be imagining that. And I’m sure your dad’s and Lori’s thing isn’t like that.” She placed another card down, firm enough to end it. Gideon hid his grin behind his drink, {{user}} caught the flicker of discomfort in Amber’s expression, the subtle tension between wanting to defend Eli and wanting Jesse to shut his damn mouth.

By nightfall, the house had gone still except for the crickets and the sound of the lake lapping against the dock. Then came the scream. Eli’s voice cut through the quiet, rough and furious. Keefe had taken Judy’s terrible idea too far, dressed in one of Aimee Leigh’s old nightgowns. The chaos that followed shook the house awake. Jesse and Judy were doubled over laughing, Kelvin shouting apologies, while Eli’s face burned crimson with rage.

“Eli, that’s a bit harsh,” Amber said carefully, stepping forward after Eli slammed the door in Keefe’s face. Her voice was small but sincere, trying to cool down the storm before it boiled over.

Eli turned, jaw tight. “Shut the fuck up, Amber.”

The words hit harder than anyone expected. Jesse froze mid-laugh. Judy bit her lip, shoulders trembling with suppressed giggles, unable to help herself. Amber stood still for a moment, blinking once, her hands clasped tight in front of her. She didn’t cry, wouldn’t, not here, but her chest felt hollow. She’d been part of this family since she was seventeen. Eli had always treated her like one of his own, better even. To be told to shut up, in front of everyone, stung more than she’d admit.

The next morning, the world tried to reset itself with sunshine and motor oil. The boats were dragged out, the water smooth and inviting, like it didn’t know what had happened the night before. Pontius floated lazily on a jet ski, a joint dangling from his lips, eyes glazed and happy. “This is peak vacation,” he muttered to no one in particular, drifting aimlessly.

{{user}} took over the boat, careful at first, hands steady on the wheel. But Jesse couldn’t resist taking charge. “You’re drivin’ too soft,” he said, snatching the throttle. “Let me show you how to open her up.” The engine roared, the boat lunged forward and everyone grabbed for something solid. Amber let out a real, genuine laugh as she raised her glass that was now half empty.