CHAPTER ONE

Seattle - Present Day

I sighed and fell back onto my bed, wanting to cry because the jeans that fit last Friday were now too tight to button. I knew the reason: my mother. Three weeks ago, I went home to visit my family for Thanksgiving, and ever since I’d been feeding my face with everything I came across.

Monday donuts in the breakroom—Check.

Rainy day pizza for lunch—Check, and of course, every day in Seattle seemed to be a rainy day.

Margarita Friday—Double check.

Frustrated, I sent a text to my best friend, Valencia:

I’m bailing on Margarita Friday. I can’t button my fucking jeans!

A few seconds later, she texted me back:

Put some leggings on and suck it up!

I’m not eating ever again.

Valencia:

First of all, you get hangry when you don’t eat, so don’t do that. Second of all, it’s the holidays. People always gain a few pounds. No biggie.

I groaned and texted her skinny ass back:

Fine, but tonight is the last time we have Margarita Friday. I’m dieting when I get home from visiting my parents.

Another new year was fast approaching. Therefore, another resolution would be made that I wouldn’t stick with. Not because I couldn’t, but because I had no willpower when it came to food, and the thought of exercise was enough to get my heart racing. I’d done it all before: the gym, the salads, starving myself. And while it had all worked temporarily, something always happened to make me quit.

It was a never-ending battle.

Growing up, I was skinny and ate home cooked meals every night. I was a track star in high school and college, always coming in first for the 100, 200, and 400 meter races, and I was always the last one to run on the team for the 400 meter relay races because no matter how far behind we were, I always seemed to catch up and pull out a win. That all changed the moment I graduated from the University of Washington and got a full-time job. I no longer had time to run, and most nights I ate junk food because it was fast, cheap, and fucking delicious, so I’d gained thirty pounds in the last ten years. I like to call them my ‘adulting is hard’ pounds.

One minute I was starting my career as a financial coordinator for a major bank in Seattle, and the next I realized five years had passed, five years of working extremely hard that made dieting never stick because the stress of the job always made me shove something into my mouth. There were long hours, tedious numbers to process, and starting next month, I had to prepare everything for taxes. Factor in seeing my mother for the holidays and it was no wonder my jeans didn’t fit me any longer. Plus, I still had to get through Christmas and New Years with said woman—much longer than the four days I spent with her for Thanksgiving.

It also hadn’t helped when my own mother offered to pay me twenty dollars for every pound I lost. ‘I just want you to find a nice man to settle down with,’ she’d said as though only skinny women got married. The reality of the situation wasn’t that I was extremely obese—though when I got my Wii out of the closet to workout with the game Wii Fit, the damn thing would always tell me I was obese as it weighed me. Not gonna lie, it made me stuff my face with a few fun-sized Snickers as I flipped the TV off and shut down the console.

My phone chirped, and I grabbed it again. Valencia:

I think you’re beautiful. Just order a skinny margarita if that makes you feel better.

I rolled my eyes.

It tastes like water. It’s cheaper to order water.

You’re not bailing on me. This is my chance to get Chance to take a chance on me. ;)

I let out a breath and stood. As I walked to my closet, I texted her back:

You’ve been flirting with Chance for two months. Are you finally going to make your move tonight?

V and I always went out on Friday nights to a bar on Pike Street called Unicorn. Unicorn was a whimsically themed bar that served magical cocktails and carnival foods all year long. It was one of the many reasons my diets failed because V and I always ordered the unicorn balls followed by the magical unicorn burger and then, of course, we would order the unicorn droppings for dessert, which was fried peanut butter cookie dough.

Chance recently got hired as one of the bartenders, and immediately, V was batting her eyelashes. He flirted right back, never once looking my way, but yet neither one of them had pulled the trigger.

I’m waiting until after Christmas so I don’t have to buy him a present.

A date doesn’t mean you have to get each other gifts.

Fine! But I’ll ask him what he’s doing for New Year’s Eve since you’re leaving me all alone again.

You know I go home to my parents every year.

I know. If they didn’t live in the middle of nowhere, I’d come with you so we could party together.

Anchorage isn’t that far.

Most people had never heard of Burn Falls until they discovered my family’s legacy that was known as the O’Bannion Burn (Or what we called OBB). It was a single malt whiskey that, in my opinion, was the best. It was a recipe that had been passed down to my father by his great-grandmother Gael, who was from Ireland. The O’Bannion Burn was sweet, smooth, with a hint of cinnamon and caraway seed that was popular in Ireland. The blend was unique and made your insides warm as it slid down your belly.

My parents moved to Alaska from Dublin, Ireland, before I was born. They took their honeymoon to see the Northern Lights in 1987 and fell in love with Alaska. I wasn’t sure why because, in the winter, there were only about seven or eight hours of daylight a day and then in the summer there were only about five hours of darkness. I hated it, but it was a place for my father to open his distillery based on my great-grandmother’s recipe without having to compete too much with an entire country that was known for their whiskey. My dad started OBB in 1992, wanting to make enough income to support his growing family, and he had been very successful.

Next year then. Now, put some leggings on, and I’ll see you after work.

“The usual?” Chance asked looking straight at Valencia.

We’d just bellied up to the bar after I’d walked the few blocks from work in the rain. Of course, since it was raining, yet again, I’d had pizza for lunch. I decided to eat two slices because I was wearing stretchy leggings and it wasn’t January 1st. Was it worth making a New Year’s resolution if I already knew I was going to fail it?

Fuck! I should start running again.

“You remember our order?” V asked, feigning ignorance and batting her blue eyes.

I rolled my eyes while Chance leaned forward and rested his forearms on the bar top. His shaggy, light-brown hair covered one of his hazel eyes, and he brushed it away with his hand.

“I remember what all the pretty girls order.”

“Is that so?” she asked, twirling a lock of her long, light-brown hair.

I wanted to mock throw up so bad, or lean over to V and point out that she wasn’t the only one he was referring to. Instead, I kept my mouth shut and looked up at the taxidermy zebra head on the wall behind the bar as I waited for Chance to make my drink.

“I also remember their name, Valencia.” He winked. I gagged.

V turned her head toward me and smirked. She turned back to Chance. “What are you doing for New Year’s Eve?”

“I’ll be here.” He stood and gestured to the bar.

“So will I.” She giggled.

I’ll be in the boondocks of Alaska if anyone cares.

“Let me put your order in.” Chance winked at V again and then turned to the POS system.

I was twenty-eight and, once again, I was rolling my eyes, but I didn’t care. I was jealous. I hadn’t had a boyfriend in ... Well, doing the math, at least a year because I was focusing all of my time on work. I’d been on a few dates, but nothing stuck because of my long hours at the bank. In the five years I’d worked there, I’d already been promoted to the top of my field.

I wanted to find the love my parents had for each other. The one where just a look would cause my heart to flutter, even after being married for several years. I grew up admiring their love for each other. Now that I was settled into my promotion, I would have more time to date; therefore, I was going to add ‘going on a date at least once a week’ to my New Year’s resolution.

The next evening, I was on my way home to Alaska. I was excited to see my family, relax, and play Uno to the wee hours of the morning. Knowing I wouldn’t want to catch an early flight the morning after margarita night, I’d booked a later flight to fly into Anchorage. As soon as I stepped off the plane a little after six, I headed to baggage claim where I knew my parents would be waiting for me. The moment I saw them, I rushed into my father’s arms.

Even at twenty-eight, I was still a Daddy’s girl at heart. Growing up, I felt as though I was his favorite. He’d take me to work with him, and every Christmas, even to this day, I was responsible for handing out the bonus checks to everyone on Christmas Eve.

“Hey, Daddy,” I said against his chest.

“Sunshine,” he greeted back, love shining in his grey eyes and an Irish accent telling me I was home.

Then I moved to my mother and hugged her as well. “Hey, Mom.”

We pulled apart. “Leggings?” she asked in disgust as she turned up her pointy nose. That gesture, oddly enough, told me I was home too.

I stepped back and ignored her question. “Are Al and Betha home already?” My brother and sister were still in college. Alastair was in his fourth year at Penn State, and Betha was in her first year at Arizona State.

“They both got in last night,” Mother responded.

“I can’t wait to kick their butt at Uno,” I replied as we waited for my bag to come out of the baggage claim.

The holidays weren’t just for spending time with family. It was about my winning at every game we played at night. Growing up, the three of us were competitive. I was the track star, Al was a strong wrestler, and Betha had lightning fast reflexes when it came to field hockey. Our competitiveness ran over into whatever we did. Even card games, though Dad was the most competitive. We’d rope him into playing to help him unwind after a long day at OBB, and he’d cheat and just laugh when he got caught.

Dad grabbed my bag once it came down the belt, and then we walked to the garage and headed to my childhood home almost an hour away in Burn Falls.

The moment I stepped into my parents’ house, the smell of home cooking filled my nose. “Did Al and Betha make dinner?” I teased.

They both turned their heads from the TV and stood the moment they saw me. “Yeah right,” Alastair said and opened his arms. I stepped into them and hugged his strong frame, ruffling his mop top of curly brown hair as I always did when I saw him.

“Mom made the pie and left us instructions,” Betha stated with open arms.

We were all good cooks in our own way because each of us, including my father, had super-taste and super-smell. We could pick out the faintest herb or spices in foods. It was weird, but at the same time, amazing. Mother let us cook a lot growing up, but now that we were all out of the house, I think she felt it was her duty to take care of us when we were home.

The aroma I could smell wasn’t a dessert. I knew without asking that Betha was talking about bacon and cabbage pie. My mother tended to feed us traditional Irish meals such as Irish stew, corned beef, potato cakes, and bangers and mash. It was a miracle I wasn’t overweight as a kid, but it was probably because I ran so much and, therefore, I could eat whatever I wanted.

Fuck, I really needed to start running again.

“Which, if they followed my instructions, should mean dinner will be ready in ten minutes.” Mother walked toward the kitchen. As she passed my father, he playfully patted her butt, and she rolled her eyes at him.

“I’ll get the salad ready. Calla, you should eat more salad than the pie. It will help you fit into normal pants.”

Ouch.

“Leggings are the new pants,” Betha said, coming to my rescue as we hugged.

I twirled my finger around her dyed golden locks. Blonde looked good on my baby sister. “Let me put my stuff in my room and then I’ll be right there. I’m starving and will probably have seconds.”

The Monday after I arrived, I walked out into the living room just as my dad was leaving for work. “Have a good day at work, Daddy,” I called out.

He turned, leaving the door slightly ajar. “See you at noon. We’ll have lunch, and then you can hand out the checks.”

I grinned. “I would love that.”

I waved goodbye to my father and then went in search of coffee.

At noon sharp, I pulled my mother’s Volvo into the parking lot of the distillery that had been in my family since I was two years old. The sun had risen only a few hours prior, and in just shy of four hours, it would set again. I honestly couldn’t imagine living in the northernmost area of Alaska where they didn’t see the sun for about seventy days, or in the summer when they had over eighty days of daylight. It would drive me insane. Luckily, Burn Falls got more nighttime than that.

As I made my way into the brick building, I waved and said hello to everyone I saw and then went up to my father’s office. When I walked in, I stopped dead in my tracks. Piles and piles of papers littered every surface.

“Dad,” I said with a note of apprehension in my voice.

He looked up, and his grey gaze met my green one. “Sunshine, is it noon already?”

“It is.” I held up a brown paper bag that Mother packed for us. It contained onion soup and soda bread for my dad, and a salad for me. “But what is all this?” I asked, rubbing the back of my neck as I looked at my worst career nightmare staring at me.

“I haven’t had a chance to replace Mandy since she retired.”

“But that was six months ago,” I replied, my free hand picking up some of the papers, trying to work out how important they were. Mandy had been my father’s office manager for twenty years before she’d retired.

My dad frowned, taking the papers out of my hand and putting them back down. “It’s been busy, Calla. Since winning the whiskey award this year, and with articles in every national newspaper from here to New York, business has tripled.”

Every year my father entered the World Whiskies Awards. This year, O’Bannion Burn was crowned World’s Best Single Malt, and all the newspapers had run stories about how the whiskey came to fruition which included a photo of my great-grandmother to pay tribute. The whiskey was now in every store and bar in Seattle.

“What about Ted?” I asked, referring to my father’s best friend and right-hand man. His job title was regional sales manager, but he did more than his job duties because of his friendship with my father, and because he was like an uncle to my brother and sister and me.

“He’s been traveling, getting OBB into every bar and liquor store across America. He doesn’t have time for paperwork.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you had all this work? I could have helped over Thanksgiving, or flown in a few times over the past few months.”

Dad shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

“It is a big deal. April will be here before you know it.” Just thinking about tax season sent my anxiety through the roof.

“It will be fine.” He took off his glasses and set them on the keyboard of his computer. His black hair that was peppered with grey fell across his forehead.

I rounded the desk and gave him a one arm hug. “After we eat, I’ll help you.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I obviously do.” I chuckled.

“Really—”

“Dad, I do this for a living. Let me help you.” I was no office manager, but I could sort all of his financials and get them ready for April since I did that for the bank.

He stared at me for a moment, a look of defeat on his face. “Thank you.”

After we ate in the break room, I handed out the checks for everyone before everyone left early and I went back to my father’s office where I knew I wouldn’t leave until well after dark. I was determined to help him sort the papers and give him a little bit of a breather when it came to OBB before the holidays. I hated seeing him stressed, especially when business was good.

I didn’t know what time it was or how long I’d been organizing all the paperwork because I was in the zone. So much so that I almost didn’t hear the scream coming from down the hall. I rose so fast from the desk chair that I banged my thigh on the corner of the desk before I ran out of the office door. I sprinted in the direction of the scream and came to a screeching halt the moment I saw a man hunched over my father’s body. The man’s dark gaze met mine, and then he disappeared before I could blink. I didn’t have time to think about how or why because the moment he was gone, I rushed to my father’s side and saw blood pooling around his head that was coming from his neck. As fast as I could, I ran back to his office and grabbed my cell from my purse to dial 911.