Snap Book 5
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Lyra Lawson
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Isla Talbot's life takes a dramatic turn when she reconnects with her childhood friend Parker Flaherty. As they navigate their rekindled romance, they face a series of challenges, including past traumas, misunderstandings, and a dangerous stalker. Their journey from New York City to a secluded resort tests their relationship and their resolve. Amidst the chaos, Isla and Parker must confront their deepest fears and insecurities to find a path to happiness and safety.
Prologue
Book 5: Stream
Isla and Parker have been best friends all their lives, each secretly crushing on the other. When they end up being roommates in NYC during a summer internship, things finally begin to heat up...but will their feelings for one another ruin the friendship between them?
SOPHIE
The doorbell rings, but when I peer through the peephole, no one’s there.
“Mommy! Somebody’s outside!” Parker shouts. The curtain swishes back and forth as he attempts to climb onto the windowsill, leaving only a tiny pair of kicking legs visible.
The Boston native in me says to ignore the second set of dings; if I can’t see who’s at my door, they’re a predator hiding in the bushes, ready to murder me and my family.
The rational part of my brain that’s still acclimating to the New Jersey suburbs tells my inner Mass-hole to shut up. With a deep breath, I swing open the door to meet my fate.
“Hewwo!”
A tiny blonde head barely reaches my hip level. The girl rocks back and forth on her feet, grinning up at me. Murderers are very rarely this cute, and never this young, so I think I’m safe.
“Hello!” I exclaim. “Who might you be?”
“Isla Marie Talbot,” she answers proudly.
That’s a great name. I press my hand to my heart. “My middle name is Marie too,” I share.
Isla Marie gasps. “You’re pretty.”
I like this kid a lot. “Thank you, Isla. You’re very pretty too.”
“I live there,” she says, pointing to the house beside ours. “Are there kids here?”
Oh, there are kids here. I glance over at Parker, but he’s still on the windowsill, watching the interaction from the most inconvenient possible angle.
“Parker and James are my kids, and their daddy, Evan, is like a big kid,” I tell her.
Isla giggles into a pudgy fist.
“Does your mommy or daddy know you’re here?” I ask.
As much as I’d love to invite her inside and introduce her to the boys, I’d rather keep my name out of the police logs.
An accidental kidnapping incident won’t help the family’s reputation in our new neighborhood.
“Uh, I dunno. Maybe.” She lifts her hands and shoulders in an exaggerated, adorable shrug.
“How about I bring you home and I can meet your mommy and daddy?”
“Okay.” Isla’s lips twitch and tug into a small frown.
Her reaction triggers a warning bell in my head, the one that’s still traumatized from everything I endured before I swapped my Callahan surname for Flaherty. “Do you want to go home?” I try.
Isla shakes her head.
Then, I can’t send this kid home. “How about you play with Parker and James outside while I meet your mommy and daddy?” I suggest.
The curtains twitch when Parker hears his name and “play” in the same sentence.
Isla matches his enthusiasm with a squeaked, “Yes, please!”
“Evan!” I holler for my husband.
He skids to a halt in the foyer, narrowly avoiding the Captain America shield Parker cast aside when the doorbell caught his attention. “Hello there!” he exclaims to Isla.
“Hewwo!”
“Isla lives next door, but she doesn’t want to go home. I’m going to swing by and let her parents know she’s here. Can you wait with her outside?” I ask Ev.
“You got it,” he replies. “PJ! James! Come meet your neighbor!”
Two identical balls of energy barely miss each other as Parker jumps from the windowsill and James skips down the hallway.
I hear their high-pitched little introductions as I traverse our lawn toward the bungalow next door.
The chips in its red paint reveal yellowy siding that matches its crooked shutters. Tangled weeds and crabgrass poke onto the cement steps that lead to its off-white front door.
An uneasy feeling fills my stomach. I want to believe the source is the home’s unkempt exterior, but in my gut, I know it’s something more sinister.
The way Isla’s face fell when I suggested I bring her home said enough.
The door opens after three knocks. A man with a pot belly, receding yet gelled hairline, and yellow teeth scrutinizes me with beady, angry eyes. “Can I help you?” he deadpans.
“Hi. I’m Sophie Flaherty. I just moved in next door.” I shoot him a friendly grin he chooses not to return. “Are you Isla’s dad?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“She just came by to introduce herself. I wanted to let you know,” I explain in my mom voice.
“Okay?”
“She’s welcome to hang out at my house unless you need her home for anything. We have twins who—”
“Yeah. Just bring her back.”
The door closes in my face. Fucking asshole.
Shaking my head, I stride back toward our Cape Cod-style home.
Ev and I intended to raise our family in the city, but our apartment might as well have shrunk a couple square feet with every inch the boys grew.
By the time their fourth birthday rolled around, our two-bedroom place felt like a studio.
Dreams of urban adventures transformed into a craving for our own backyard when Parker tried to bathe in the neighborhood park’s fountain and James tangled with a stray cat, earning him a series of rabies shots.
Isla, Evan, and the boys sit in a circle beneath the maple tree, all laughing hysterically.
Warm tingles spread through my chest. I miss the city’s energy, but this is the kind of wholesome Kodak moment that makes my heart pang less for Hoboken and New York.
“Mama! Isla is five,” James shouts excitedly.
“Just like you!” I exclaim, settling onto the grass between Ev and Parker.
Isla sticks out her arm and flexes her hand to display five fingers. James and Parker copy her move like a pair of clones.
A wild, mischievous grin spreads across Parker’s freckled cheeks, and he springs to his feet as he pokes Isla on the arm, announcing, “Tag! You’re it.”
Isla dissolves into giggles, snorting and squeaking while she charges after the boys.
With one eye on the three kids chasing each other around the yard and one on my husband, I give Ev a rundown of my awkward encounter next door.
He kisses me softly on the cheek, knowing how painful seeing apathetic parents can be for me. “We’ll leave our door open to her,” he murmurs.
“I love—” I start to sigh.
“Isla! Home!” a gruff voice hollers.
By the time I lift my head from Evan’s shoulder, the door is already slamming behind Isla’s dad.
“Gotta go,” she says. “Bye, bye.”
We wave goodbye. James leaps into the house, followed by Ev, while Parker remains behind in the yard, staring at me.
“Mommy, can I get married?” he asks, his tone serious.
“Someday,” I answer.
“I wanna get married to Isla,” he informs me.
Oh boy. “If Isla wants to get married to you too, you can get married someday,” I tell him.
And here I was, worried that our new life in the suburbs would be boring.
