"I don't look like any of you."
Liam's words hung in the air between us as I tossed another swimsuit into my duffel bag. I glanced up to find him leaning against my doorframe, afternoon light catching the angles of his face in a way that highlighted just how different he looked from the rest of us.
"You say that every summer," I replied, forcing lightness into my voice. "Just because you can actually tan and the rest of us turn into lobsters."
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. At twenty-one, my brother had perfected the art of the mask, the expression that satisfied everyone else while hiding whatever was actually going on behind those dark brown eyes.
"You packed the good sunscreen, right?" he asked. "Not that cheap stuff Dad buys?"
"Three bottles. I'm not spending this camping trip listening to Mom fuss over your burned shoulders again."
The moment stretched between us, comfortable yet... not. Something had been shifting lately. Subtle. Unnamed.
Dad's voice boomed up the stairs. "Mia! Did you grab the fishing gear from the garage?"
"Coming!" I called back, grateful for the interruption.
Liam pushed off the doorframe. "I'll get it. Finish packing."
As he turned, I caught myself watching the way he moved, fluid and certain. I immediately looked away, heart suddenly racing for no reason I could name.
*What is wrong with me?*
Our annual camping trip to Lake Corman had been a Davidson family tradition since before I was born. Four days of swimming, hiking, and pretending we were wilderness experts despite the fact our campsite had full plumbing and electrical hookups.
I zipped my bag closed with more force than necessary and headed downstairs.
Mom stood in the kitchen, meticulously labeling food containers. Diana Davidson approached meal planning like a military operation, everything in its place, every contingency accounted for.
"Did you remember your allergy medication?" she asked without looking up.
"Yes, Mom."
"Extra socks? The nights get cold, even in August."
"Yes, Mom."
She finally glanced up, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. The premature silver streaks caught the light. "And your..."
"Phone charger, extra battery pack, and first aid kit? All packed." I kissed her cheek. "You trained me well."
She smiled, the worry lines around her green eyes softening. My mother: eternally preparing for disasters that never came.
Through the window, I could see Dad and Liam loading the SUV, their movements a study in contrasts. Dad – stocky, deliberate, fair-haired like Mom – directing the operation with the same authority he used at his construction sites. Liam – lean, fluid, olive-skinned, anticipating each instruction before it came.
"They look nothing alike," Mom said softly beside me.
I startled. "What?"
"Your father and brother." She smiled, but something flickered behind her eyes. "Liam takes after my side. My grandfather had that same coloring."
Before I could respond, Dad appeared in the doorway. "Vehicle's packed! Davidson family camping expedition leaves in T-minus ten minutes." He pointed at me. "That means you too, Mia. No last-minute outfit changes."
"That was *one time*," I protested. "I was fourteen!"
"And we missed the good campsite because of it," Liam added, appearing behind Dad with that half-smile that always made something flip in my stomach.
"Traitor," I muttered.
We piled into the SUV – Dad driving, Mom navigating, Liam and I in the back like we were still kids. As we pulled away from our lakeside home, I watched Westridge scroll past the window. Everyone knew everyone in our town of 1,852 souls. Mrs. Abernathy watering her prized roses. Mr. Collins sweeping the sidewalk outside his hardware store. Life in perfect, predictable circles.
Liam's knee bumped mine as Dad took a sharp turn, and a jolt that had nothing to do with the car's movement shot through me. He shifted away immediately, staring out the window.
The silence between us felt different than it had just months ago. Charged. Dangerous.
"Weather report says thunderstorms," Dad announced, oblivious to the tension in the backseat. "Might be a wet one this year."
Mom immediately launched into contingency plans, which tarps to set up first, how to keep the firewood dry.
I snuck another glance at Liam. He was already looking at me, something unreadable in his expression. When our eyes met, he didn't look away.
Neither did I.
Storm clouds gathered on the horizon as we drove toward Lake Corman, and I couldn't shake the feeling that they were gathering over us, too. Something was coming. Something that would change everything.
I just didn't know what.