Sisters by Law, LOVERS by CHOICE

Chapter One: Under the Lantern’s Glow Lily’s POV The attic smells like dust and secrets, a mix of old wood and forgotten dreams. My sneakers squeak on the creaky floorboards as I climb the ladder, the flickering glow of Mia’s lantern guiding me like a lighthouse in a storm. It’s past midnight in Willow Creek, and the world outside is asleep, but up here, in this cramped, shadowy space above the Delgado house, my heart’s racing like I’ve just sprinted a mile. Mia’s waiting for me, her silhouette soft against the slanted roof, and when her brown eyes catch mine, I swear the air crackles. “Lily,” she whispers, her voice a mix of nerves and thrill, “you’re late.” I grin, swinging my legs over the ladder’s top rung and crawling toward her. “Blame the moon. It was begging me to stare at it.” I plop down beside her on the old quilt she’s spread out, the lantern casting golden flecks across her wavy chestnut hair. She’s in her usual cardigan, the kind that screams good girl to her mom, but I know better. Underneath, Mia’s a wildfire, just waiting for a spark. She rolls her eyes but scoots closer, her knee brushing mine. “You’re ridiculous.” “And you love it,” I shoot back, leaning in. Our lips meet, soft and urgent, like we’re stealing time itself. Her kiss tastes like peppermint gum and rebellion, and for a moment, the world shrinks to just us—two nineteen-year-old girls hiding from a town that’d clutch its pearls if it knew. Six months we’ve been doing this, sneaking around, dodging judgmental stares. Willow Creek’s got eyes everywhere, and we’re its favorite sin. Mia pulls back, her breath hitching. “We have to be quiet. Mom’s downstairs.” I smirk, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Elena’s probably dreaming of church hymns. We’re fine.” But my stomach twists a little. Elena Delgado’s no joke—her rules are ironclad, and Mia’s her perfect daughter, at least on the outside. Me? I’m the troublemaker, the artist with blue streaks in her hair and a dad who barely notices I’m gone half the time. Richard’s too busy with his law firm to care what I do, as long as I don’t burn the house down. Mia’s fingers lace with mine, her skin warm against my calloused hands. “You ever think about… telling them?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes are wide, like she’s scared of her own words. I snort, but it’s more bravado than I feel. “What, walk into Sunday service and announce we’re in love? They’d have us on the next bus to conversion camp.” I squeeze her hand, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, I like our secret. Makes it… spicy.” She laughs, soft and nervous, but her gaze drifts to the attic window, where the moon hangs heavy over Willow Creek’s cookie-cutter houses. “I just… I hate lying. To Mom, to everyone.” “Hey,” I say, tilting her chin toward me. “We’re not lying. We’re surviving. There’s a difference.” I kiss her again, slower this time, pouring every ounce of my heart into it. I want her to feel how much I need this—need us. Mia’s my anchor, the one thing keeping me from drowning in this suffocating town. She’s all soft edges and quiet strength, while I’m a mess of sharp lines and loud defiance. Opposites, yeah, but we fit. We’re lost in each other when the front door slams downstairs, loud enough to make us both jump. My heart lurches, and Mia’s hand clamps over her mouth, stifling a gasp. Voices drift up—Elena’s sharp and commanding, and… my dad’s? What the hell is Richard doing here at this hour? “Stay here,” I whisper, crawling toward the attic hatch. Mia grabs my wrist, her eyes wide with panic. “Lily, don’t,” she hisses. “If they catch you—” “I’ll be quick,” I promise, prying her fingers loose. “Just… keep the lantern low.” I slip down the ladder, my pulse hammering in my ears. The hallway’s dark, but light spills from the living room below. I creep to the staircase, crouching low, and strain to hear. “…so happy, Richard,” Elena’s saying, her voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. “I never thought I’d find this again.” My dad chuckles, a sound so rare it’s almost alien. “Me neither. After Susan passed, I… well, I thought that was it for me. But you, Elena—you’re a miracle.” I freeze, my stomach churning. What the actual hell? My dad’s been a widower for years, barely dating, and now he’s sweet-talking Mia’s mom like they’re in some cheesy rom-com? I lean closer, my hand gripping the banister. “It’s fast, I know,” Elena says, and there’s a rustle, like she’s moving closer to him. “But when it’s right, you just… know. Don’t you think?” “Absolutely,” Dad replies, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Lily and Mia will be thrilled. A new family, a fresh start.” My breath catches. Family? Family? My brain’s screaming, but I can’t move, can’t even blink. I glance back at the attic hatch, where Mia’s probably freaking out. She needs to hear this, but I’m rooted to the spot, every word from downstairs slicing through me like a blade. “I want to do this right,” Elena says, her tone firm again. “A proper wedding, here in Willow Creek. The girls can be bridesmaids. It’ll be perfect.” “Perfect,” Dad echoes, and I want to scream. Perfect for who? Not for me, not for Mia. My chest tightens, like the walls of this house are closing in. Mia and I, sisters? The idea’s so absurd it’s almost funny, except it’s not—it’s a nightmare. Our secret, our stolen kisses, our dreams of running away to New York—they’re all teetering on the edge of a cliff, and one wrong step could send them crashing. I’m about to bolt back to the attic when Elena’s voice sharpens. “Richard, we need to talk about the girls. Mia’s been… distant lately. I’m worried she’s falling in with the wrong crowd.” My blood runs cold. The wrong crowd? Does she mean me? I’m not just some delinquent—she knows me. Or does she? Elena’s always been strict, but there’s something in her tone that feels… calculated. Like she’s probing, testing Dad’s reaction. He sighs, the way he does when he’s dodging my arguments. “Lily’s been tough too. Rebellious, you know? But they’re young. They’ll adjust.” Adjust. The word tastes like ash. Adjust to what—pretending we’re just sisters, hiding who we are? I’m shaking now, anger and fear twisting together. I need to get to Mia, need to tell her we’re in deeper trouble than we thought. But as I turn to climb back up, a floorboard creaks under my foot, loud as a gunshot in the quiet house. The voices downstairs stop. My heart slams against my ribs, and I hold my breath, praying they didn’t hear. Seconds tick by, each one an eternity. Then Elena’s voice cuts through the silence, icy and precise. “Did you hear that, Richard?” I don’t wait to hear his answer. I scramble up the ladder, my hands slippery with sweat, and burst into the attic. Mia’s on her knees, the lantern dimmed, her face pale as moonlight. “What’s happening?” she whispers, her voice trembling. I grab her shoulders, my words tumbling out in a frantic hiss. “Your mom and my dad—they’re engaged. They’re getting married, Mia. We’re gonna be stepsisters.” Her eyes widen, and for a second, I think she might cry, but she just stares, like the world’s stopped spinning. “What… what do we do?” she asks, her voice so small it breaks my heart. Before I can answer, footsteps echo on the stairs—slow, deliberate, like someone’s hunting. My pulse roars in my ears, and I pull Mia toward the corner of the attic, behind a stack of old boxes. The lantern’s glow is faint, but it’s still a beacon if anyone opens the hatch. I fumble to turn it off, my fingers shaking, but Mia’s hand stops me. “Lily,” she whispers, her voice barely audible, “if they find us—” “They won’t,” I say, but my voice cracks. The footsteps are closer now, right below the attic hatch. I can hear Elena’s voice, low and suspicious, murmuring something to Dad. The hatch creaks, and a sliver of light spills into the attic, slicing through the darkness like a knife.