The helicopter dipped suddenly and Brooke Lemon’s stomach went along with it as her view of a benign blue sky and a few puffy white clouds shifted to a massive, sharp, rugged mountain peak.

The sheer rock face seemed close enough to reach out and touch. Instead, she fought the vertigo, clasping her hands tight together, swallowing hard at the ragged cliff in front of her, thousands of feet above sea level, with nothing even close to resembling a safe place to land.

Her heart was pounding in tune to the thump, thump, thump of the chopper’s rotors. Her palms had gone slick, and she regretted that extra sleeve of cookies she’d inhaled at lunch, which seemed a lifetime ago now.

“Brooke.”

“Shh.” She leaned forward, unable to look away.

“You’rе green. Close your eyеs. Take a deеp breath. In fact, you’ve been at this for tеn straight hours, take a nap.”

“I can’t nap! I have to stay awakе so wе don’t crash!”

The soft male laugh had hеr rolling hеr еyes, but shе pullеd off her headphonеs and leanеd back in hеr chair. Thе video was pausеd and thе lights camе up.

And thеn a few words rolled across thе scrеen.

“Funny,” shе said.

“And true.” Colе stood and studiеd hеr for a long bеat. “You miss bеing out therе. Being the one shooting the footage instеad of putting it all togethеr.”

“No.” A big, fat lie. Of course she missed it. She missеd it like shе would miss air. She hadn’t taken her eyеs off the screеn, the word “producer” seeming to mock hеr. The pay was bettеr, but hеll yeah she still yеarnеd for thе old days when shе’d had “hеad photographer” credit. And shе could still take grеat picturеs likе no one’s businеss, but what shе couldn’t do was go on thе advеntures to take thosе pics rеquired of the job.

Not that she was about to admit it to hеr boss. Not only would hе pity her, hе’d want to talk about it.

And she nеvеr talkеd about it.

Avoiding Colе’s sharp gazе, she rosе grabbed her backpack just as Tommy poked his head into the еditing room. “Hey, swеetness, how about some dinner?” His smile fadеd at whatevеr he saw on her face and then hе looked at Cole, еyes narrowed as they exchangеd glances.

Cole gavе a slight hеad shake.

Tommy’s eyеs softеnеd. “Come on, chica, I’ll buy.”

Shе knеw when she was bеing managed. Thеy workеd on a Travеl Network show callеd Around Thе World, following advеnturе seekеrs documеntary style as they took on differеnt goals such as climbing “unclimbablе” mountains, rafting “unraftable” rivеrs . . . basically anything high danger and high adrеnalinе.

Colе was thеir showrunnеr and director. Hе was also a friend, and once in a while, Brooke’s lover—whеn it suited thеm both. It hadn’t suited them in months because funds had beеn cut, leaving thеm on a tight budget and an even tighter dеadline, which meant thеy’d been at each other’s throats much morе than at each other’s bodiеs. Lust always took a back sеat to murderous urges, at lеast for Brookе. Colе nevеr sеemed to havе a problem sеparating thе two.

But much as shе didn’t want to admit it, she tеndеd to lеad with hеr heart, not with her brains. And hеr hеart didn’t like emotionally disconnectеd physical rеlationships, nevеr had.

Tommy was the show’s makеup and hair artist, also thеir stylist. Likе Colе, hе was also a co-worker, along with bеing her bff, only she and Tommy had never beеn lovers, mostly bеcause Tommy preferred more than onе person in his bed. Or wherever he could get them.

Since both men knew her way too well, she avoided eye contact by going through her backpack to make sure she had her keys and wallet. Which she already knew she did because she was a teeny tiny compulsive about such things. Still, she touched each briefly and then zipped her pack. And then unzipped and re-zipped it a second time.

Tommy looked at Cole in accusation. “Why is she upset? Did that hottie publicist cancel on her for tomorrow night?”

“No, I cancelled him.”

He looked surprised. “Why? You know you have to date a guy in even numbers and tomorrow would’ve been date number four.”

“He wears too much cologne.”

Cole and Tommy rolled their eyes in unison. “And the guy before that had a crazy mother,” Tommy said.

“Well, he did,” she said. But that hadn’t been the problem at all. Before the waiter had even brought them drink menus, he’d told her he wanted kids sooner than later and then asked her how many she wanted. “And why are we talking about the men in my life?”

“You mean the lack of,” Tommy said, watching her run the pads of her thumbs over the tips of her fingers, back and forth, back and forth. “And we’re talking about it because you’re upset at something.”

She shoved her hands in her pockets.

“She had a flashback,” Cole said, also studying her. “She always gets especially testy after one of those.”

“Actually, I get testy when you two start acting like my grandma.” She slung her backpack over her shoulder. To keep Tommy from following her, she went up on tiptoes and brushed a kiss to his perfectly and carefully manicured scruffy jaw. “I’m fine.”

“You out?” Cole asked.

“Saving you some overtime,” she said.

“You’re on salary.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Which reminds me, I’m due for a raise.” She shut the door before he could respond and exited the studio into the LA heat. It was seven p.m. in May and ninety-eight degrees. The humidity was high enough to turn her ponytail into something resembling a squirrel’s tail.

Not that it mattered. She had no one to impress, nor the will to change that. Twenty-eight years old and she was a complete burnout on men.

And possibly on life.

She drove home, which was a rented bottom floor condo in North Hollywood only eight miles from the studio, but always at least thirty minutes in gridlock traffic.

She added Los Angeles to the list of things she was burned out on. She missed wide open spaces. She missed fresh air and being outdoors. She missed thrill and adventure.

Parking her car, she headed up the walkway to her front door, mindlessly counting her steps, doing a little shuffle at the end to make sure she ended on an even number. It was the way her brain self-soothed. And some days required more self-soothing than others.

Letting herself into her place, she took a deep breath and tried to let go of the stress ball in her gut. The flashback had been the first in a long time and she’d nearly forgotten the taste of fear.

Nearly but not quite.

She looked around to remind her where she was. And hey, her place was clean, her plants were alive—well, semi-alive—and she had ice cream in the fridge. Everything was good. Everything was great.

She was working on believing that when a knock came at her door. And actually, it was more of a pounding, loud and startling in the calm silence of her living room. Not Tommy, he would’ve knocked politely and called her name. Cole would’ve texted her before getting out of his car.

There was no one else in LA who would show up on her doorstep.

No stranger to danger, she grabbed her trusty baseball bat on the way to the door. She hadn’t traveled the planet over and back more times than she could count without learning how to protect herself.

Just as she leaned in to look out the peephole, there came another pounding, accompanied by a female voice. “Brooke! Oh God, what if you’re not home? Please be home. Brooke ?”

She went still as stone. She knew that voice, though it’d been awhile. A long while. It belonged to her sister, Mindy Lemon, the one who had her shit together and wore a body armor of calm like other women wore earrings, the one who never had to count in even numbers in her head, the one who never lost her way or screwed up her entire life.

More pounding.

And something that sounded suspiciously like sobs.

Brooke yanked the front door open and Mindy fell into her arms. They hadn’t seen each other in over a year and hadn’t spoken in months. They had texted briefly last week, but only because it’d been their dad’s birthday, which had required a summit meeting since the man had everything he wanted and was all but impossible to buy for, and yet he expected presents.

“What the hell?” Brooke asked.

Mindy just hung on tight. They weren’t a hugging family. Hugs were saved for weddings and funerals, or the very occasional family gathering where there was alcohol, copious amounts of it.

Otherwise, the Lemons tended to just surf on the surface of such uncomfortable things such as demonstrative feelings and emotions.

But Mindy was demonstrating lots of emotion at the moment, emoting it at high volume as she cried and spoke at the same time.

“Min, you gotta slow down,” Brooke said. “Only dogs can hear you right now.”

Mindy sucked in a breath and lifted her head. Her mascara was smudged so badly that it was possibly yesterday’s mascara that just hadn’t been removed. She wore no other makeup. She was at least fifteen pounds heavier than Brooke had ever seen her. Her clothes were wrinkled and there was a suspicious looking dark stain on her t-shirt, which was odd because Mindy didn’t wear tees. Her honey colored shoulder length hair was the same color as Brooke’s, but Mindy’s hair always behaved. Not today. It was outdoing Brooke’s in the squirrel tail impersonation and looked like it was a week past needing a shampoo. She hiccupped, but thankfully stopped the crying.

Brooke nodded gratefully and braced herself. “Now. Who’s dead?”

Mindy choked on a low laugh and swiped beneath her eyes, succeeding only in making things worse. “Sorry,” she said. “No one’s dead. Unless you count my personal life.”

This made no sense. Mindy had been born with a plan in hand. At any given moment of any day, she could flip open one of her fancy notebooks and tell you exactly where she was in that plan. “You’ve got something in your hair,” Brooke said and picked it out. It was a Cheerio. “Wow.”

“It’s Maddox’s. He was chucking them in the car!” Mindy’s eyes were misting again. “You don’t know how lucky you are that you don’t have kids!”

Used to be a sentence like that could send a hot poker of fire through Brooke’s chest, but now it was more like a dull ache. Mostly. “Why are you falling apart? You never fall apart.”

Mindy tossed up her hands. “Well meet the new Mindy Lemon. Remember when we were little and dad opened his first store and we all worked there until it failed and everyone called us the Lemon Sisters?”

“We are the Lemon sisters,” Brooke said.

“Yes, but they made it a play on words, like we were lemons . As in bad lemons. As in worthless.”

“Okay, listen to me.” Brooke put her hands on her sister’s arms and gave her a little shake to make sure she was really listening. “We were never worthless back then, and we’re certainly not now. You’ve got a great life, Mindy. You’ve got the life you planned out for yourself.”

Mindy sniffed. “I know! And I get that on paper it looks like I’m the together one, but I’m not!”

Brooke might’ve taken insult, but Mindy didn’t mean anything by it. Fact was, she didn’t know anything about Brooke’s life these days. Which was another problem entirely. “What’s really going on here, Min?”

Her sister’s eyes filled. “I burnt the school cupcakes and the firefighters had to come and now the neighbor thinks I need Xanax. And dad’s thinking about selling the business, which puts me out of work. Linc says I should buy it, but I can’t so much as manage to potty train Maddox even though he’s thirty-two months old, and I think Linc’s having an affair with Brittney, our nanny.”

Whoa. Brooke stopped trying to do the math to figure out how old Maddox was and stared at her sister. “What?”

“Look, I’m sorry for dropping in like this, but when it all started to fall apart in the car, I remembered you were on our way home.”

“Okay,” Brooke said, surprised for a lot of reasons, not the least of which was that her sister had actually never been here before, not once in the two years since she’d moved in. Brooke’s own doing . “Do you really think your husband, cutie pie Dr. Linc Tenant, the guy you’ve been in love with since the second grade and who worships the ground you walk on, is having an affair with the nanny? And since when do you have a nanny?”

“Since I went back to work. She’s just part time. And yes, I really think he’s cheating on me.”

“Based on?”

“Based on the fact that he got a vasectomy and yet we never have sex. And why don’t we ever have sex?” Mindy asked. “I miss sex! I need a man-made orgasm! Or new batteries!”

“Geez, Min, TMI much?” Brooke grimaced. “So . . . this all happened; Linc, the nanny, your, uh, lack of new batteries, and instead of fixing any of that, you what, ran away to mom’s and dad’s in Palm Springs?”

“I know!” Mindy tossed her hands up. “I don’t know what I was thinking, okay? Mom thinks Millie needs therapy because she’ll only answer to Princess Millie, and that Maddox should be talking by now. And dad says Mason shouldn’t wear pink shirts—but hello, it’s salmon not pink, and he picks out his own clothes! Dad also thinks that my ass is getting fat—and maybe that’s why Linc won’t sleep with me!” Then she collapsed in sobs again.

“Mommy! ”

At the little kid voice, Brooke and Mindy both froze and turned. In the doorway stood a young girl outfitted in a yellow dress with black elephants and giraffes on it. Her hair was held off her face by a headband that matched the dress. But it was her eyes that got to Brooke. They were the same jade green Mindy’s. And her own, she supposed.

“Hi, Aunt Brooke,” Millie said politely before turning back to Mindy. “Mommy, Mad Dog peed on Mason again.” She held up her hands like a doctor before surgery waiting to have his gloves put on before running the pads of her thumbs across the tips of her fingers four times in a row. “I’ve got to wash my hands. Can I wash my hands?”

Brooke nodded. “Down the hall, first door on the right’s the bathroom.”

Millie ran down the hall. They heard the bathroom door shut and then the lock clicked into place. And out of place. And back into place. Four times.

Brooke’s heart pinched. Clearly the Lemon OCD had been passed down. “Mad Dog?”

“Maddox,” Mindy said. “Like I said, he doesn’t talk much yet, but he does bark. Hence his nickname.”

Okay then. Brooke didn’t know much about kids, and she was in no position to tell her sister how to live her life, but things did seem a little bit out of control—some things Mindy had never been a day in her life.

Her sister’s car was parked in the short driveway in front of the condo, the doors open. Two little boys were rolling around on the grass. One was naked.

Mindy stared at them like one might stare at an impending train wreck.

“Yours, I presume,” Brooke said.

“Yeah. Want one?”

She ignored the way her heart took a good, hard leap. “Tell me about Linc.”

Mindy sighed. “I keep up the house, work at the shop thirty hours a week, and handle all the kid stuff. I’m the heavy,” Mindy said. “The bad cop. And I get that Linc works at the medical practice something like seventy hours a week, but when he walks in after a long day, suddenly I’m invisible. The kids always love the good cop. I want to be the good cop.”

“So be the good cop,” Brooke said. This didn’t seem hard, but hey, what did she know?

“I can’t be the good cop. I’ve tried.” Mindy turned to face her and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I hate my life.” She grabbed Brooke’s hand and squeezed. “I want your life. Can I have your life? You’re so lucky, Brooke, you’ve got no idea. You get to bounce all over the planet, living out wild adventure after wild adventure, and you get paid to do it. No wonder you never come home.”

Brooke managed to hold back a defensive answer. Because it wasn’t adventure that kept her away. Shame, maybe. Certainly. And also regrets.

But it wasn’t the wild adventures, at least not anymore. That life was long over.

“I see your Instagram pics,” Mindy said. “It’s all so amazing.”

Whatever Brooke posted these days were either throwback pics or stills from the show.

“It’s like a dream come true, Brooke. I want your life.”

Brooke stared into Mindy’s red-rimmed, disparaging gaze. She knew despair. She knew it to the depths of her soul, and she felt some of the pent-up resentment she’d been holding for her sister very slightly shift. Not fade away exactly, more like it just moved over a little bit to make room for a teeny tiny amount of compassion and empathy. “Go into the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of wine,” Brooke said. “I’ve got this.”

“You do?” Mindy asked with anxious disbelief.

“Yeah.” If there was one thing Brooke had down, it was the ability to bullshit her way through any situation. She’d summited the roof of Africa—Kilimanjaro. She’d been one of the few to get to and photograph the limestone formations of the Stone Forest in China. She’d gone swimming with giants—migrating humpback whales—along the waters of Ningaloo Reef in Australia. Certainly, she could handle her sister and her kids.

Probably. She waited until Mindy vanished inside before calling out to the boys wrestling in the grass. “Hey.”

Neither of them looked at her.

She put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. Loudly. All destruction and mayhem stopped on a dime and two sets of eyeballs turned her way. “Inside,” she said. “Everyone to the couch.”

The boys met up with the freshly washed up Millie in the living room and they all sat, even the naked one. Brooke winced, but let it go as she opened her laptop and scrolled her way to a Disney flick to stream. “Millie? This one?”

Millie didn’t answer.

Brooke looked at the boys.

“You have to call her Princess Millie,” Mason said, still naked. He had a bloody knee. “She only answers to Princess Millie.”

“Right,” Brooke sent a glance toward the kitchen, but nothing from Mindy. She’d either made a run for it through the garage, or she was hiding out, drinking her wine in peace. Brooke grabbed her backpack and pulled out the first aid kit she always carried with her and grabbed the antiseptic.

Mason covered his knee. “Only need a Band-aid.”

While she could appreciate the sentiment more than he could know, the cut was dirty. She doctored him up and looked at Millie. “Back to the movie. The Lion King or no?”

“No,” Millie said. “The dad dies and it makes Mad Dog cry.”

“Me too,” Brooke said and scrolled to Toy Story 3 .

“That one makes all of us cry,” Millie said.

They finally settled on Cars 3 . Brooke brought Maddox his clothes and helped him into them, and then tented a big soft blanket over the back of the couch to the coffee table, pinning it in place with several heavy books, one of which was filled with her own photography. Back from when she was actually having the adventures Mindy thought she was still having.

“A fort!” Mason yelled enthusiastically.

Maddox barked with equal enthusiasm.

“Aunt Brooke is the best,” Brooke heard Millie whisper to her brothers.

She felt herself smile with pride and also a sense of warmth and affection that had been all too rare in her world lately. But along with the goodness came something else. A sense of dread. Because blood or not, family or not, this couldn’t happen. She couldn’t fall for Mindy’s kids, no matter how much she wanted to.

“Mad dog!” Millie cried out. “You pooped!”

This was followed by a giggle. Mad Dog, presumably.

“You’re supposed to do that in the bathroom!” Millie said shrilly. “Mom said!” And then she yanked the blanket down around them to dramatically gasp in some fresh air.

Mason and Maddox were looking at each other and laughing.

“Boys are disgusting,” Millie announced.

Brooke shrugged. “You might think differently in a few years.”

“No way.” She jabbed a finger at Maddox. “You’re going to have to change him, you know. If you don’t do it right away, he gets a rash and screams bloody murder.”

Brooke slid another look toward the kitchen. Still nothing from Mindy. Great. Although she was starting to think she didn’t have to be worried she’d fall for these guys after all. With a sigh, she scooped up Maddox and then nearly staggered back from the stench coming out of this sweet, little boy.

At the look on her face, he giggled again and drooled down her front.

“You know what would be even funnier?” she asked, walking him out to the car to find his diaper bag and then changing him outside on her porch lounge so that she didn’t have to hazmat her place afterwards. “If you used a toilet like a big boy and showed your siblings what you’re capable of.”

He stared up at her, not committing to this but clearly considering.

When she was done, she brought him inside and recreated the tent. Then she walked into the kitchen.

No Mindy.

Troublesome. Brooke filled a bowl with cut up apples and a pile of almond butter for dip, and thrust it into the tent.

It was immediately accepted with squeals of delight.

Proud of her aunting skills, she went in search of Mindy. It was with great relief that she found her sister in the bedroom, sprawled out on the bed with a bottle of wine.

No glass.

“Mom called,” Mindy murmured, staring off into space. “She told me that my husband and children are perfect.” She took a swig of wine. Clearly not her first. Or tenth. “Which means it’s me.” She set the bottle down on the nightstand and flopped to her back on the mattress. “Oh my God, this bed. It’s heaven. Your sheets are clean. You’ve got plants that haven’t been eaten. There’s no poop anywhere, it smells delicious.”

“Okay, seriously,” Brooke said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’re scaring me. Who are you and what did you do to my sister?”

From the bathroom in the hallway came Mason’s voice. “I finished!”

Mindy sighed. “I had babies. That’s what happened to me.”

Brooke didn’t flinch. Progress. “You still haven’t told me about Linc other than he’s working long hours.”

“You know his dad left him and his brother the practice. But his brother’s been slacking, leaving the brunt of the work to Linc. I never see him. A few days ago he left for a conference in Florida and he suggested I take the kids to mom and dads while he was gone. So I asked Brittney—our nanny—if she wanted to come with me, but she said she couldn’t. And on her Instagram, she was on a beach.”

“Okay,” Brooke said. “So . . . ?”

“So what if she’s on a beach in Florida with my husband?”

“Is someone going to come check me?” Mason bellowed.

“He doesn’t wipe efficiently,” Mindy explained.

Brooke stuck her head out the bedroom door. “Listen kid, your mom’s busy having a meltdown, either handle the paper work yourself or hang on a second.” She looked at Mindy. “Have you actually talked to Linc?”

“Yesterday. He actually had the nerve to get mad at me for my suspicions.”

“So maybe he’s innocent,” Brooke said. “And anyway, what does this Brittney chick have what you don’t?”

Mindy stared at her like she had moss growing where her brain sat. “Boobs that haven’t been ravaged by three babies, for one thing. And a waist! And I bet she doesn’t pee a little when she sneezes!”

Brooke grimaced. “Okay. So what do you need.”

Mindy turned to her. “I need Linc to say he can’t live without me. In lieu of that, I could use a day or two off the merry-go-round.”

“Have you told Linc this?”

“He should just KNOW,” Mindy said and then dissolved into tears again. Right after she took another swig from the half empty bottle of wine.

Even though she and Mindy were currently estranged, Brooke could admit she knew a little something about self-pity. Even more about needing a break from real life. “I’ll take the kids home to Wildstone tomorrow,” she heard herself say. “You can stay here for a few days and rest up, and then meet us there. I was going to come visit you anyway.”

“No you weren’t,” Mindy cried. “You never come visit me!”

This was true enough and there were good reasons for it. Reasons she’d kept to herself. But she’d worry about stepping foot in Wildstone again once she actually made it there in one piece. This whole meltdown thing better not be contagious. Taking the wine away from Mindy, she set it down on the dresser. Then she pulled off her sister’s sneakers and eyed the rest of Mindy’s clothes. “How comfortable are those yoga pants?”

“They’re my skinny weight ones,” Mindy said sleepily. “So not comfortable at all because they’re too tight. I’m not at my skinny weight. Or even my medium weight. I’m at my fat weight, but I threw away all my fat weight pants because my skinny weight self is a complete selfish bitch who thought I had more control than I do.”

Brooke tugged Mindy’s leggings off and went hands on hips. “Min, I know life sucks right now, but that’s never a reason to wear granny panties. Like ever.”

“My skinny panties give me wedgies.” With a purr of contentment, Mindy turned on her side and curled up in just her t-shirt and undies.

Brooke grabbed a blanket to cover her up.

“But the kids,” her sister said softly, eyes already closed.

“I got them, Min. Sleep.”

“Hmmmm. Thanks, Bee. I owe you one.”

“Wiiiiiiiipe meeeeeeee!” Mason bellowed.

Mindy didn’t budge and Brooke headed to save the kid thinking she wasn’t going to have a problem not falling for these kids after all.