The shrill ring of his phone cut through the comfortable silence of James McKenna’s flat. He groaned, one arm flailing blindly across the nightstand, knocking over what sounded like—shit, his coffee mug from this morning. At least it wasn't full anymore.

The alarm clock read 3:47 A.M.

James pushed his face further into the pillow, wishing whoever was calling would give up. Sunday nights were sacred—his one guaranteed night of decent sleep between the mountain of grueling assignments and his part-time gig at the campus library. The ringing stopped, it was peaceful once more.

Then it started over again. 

“Bloody hell,” he grumbled, finally reaching for the phone. An unfamiliar international number lit up the screen. His finger hovered over the decline button, it was most likely a wrong number or some spam call. 

Yet something compelled him to answer.

“Hello?” His voice sounded husky, heavy with sleep.

A gentle, inquiring voice of a women in American accent spoke. “James? James McKenna?” 

He sat up, running his free hand through his unruly brown hair. "That’s me. Who’s this?” 

"This is Sarah—Sarah Cross. Well, Bennett now. I’m your Aunt. Rachel's younger sister.” 

 James’s mind was still a bit groggy from sleep, so it took a moment to register. Aunt Sarah, sounded familiar. He had a faint memory of his grandmother mentioning her and showing him an old, faded photo. Sarah had moved to America long before James was born. 

“Right, yeah. Sarah.” He cleared his throat, to sound more engaged."Sorry, it’s just that it’s almost four in the morning here”. 

“Oh!” She gasped “I’m terribly sorry. I forgot about the time difference!”. I’ll call back—"

"No, no, it’s fine. I’m up already.” He assured her while switching on the bedside lamp and squinting against the sudden brightness. "By the way, how did you get my number?” 

After a deliberate pause, she said, "I visited London a few months back and caught up with Rachel, she's the one who gave me your number."

 James brow furrowed as he stared at his reflection in the dark window across the room—his stepmother hadn't mentioned Sarah's visit, nor had his dad. Why hadn't they told him? 

"Okay,"he replied cautiously, "So what's this call about?" 

"I know this is out of the blue. Sarah’s voice sped up, like she had been practicing what she was going to say. "And while I know we have never actually met, which is completely my fault. I should have made more effort over the years. But I was thinking—hoping—maybe you’d like to come visit? For Christmas?” 

James blinked in surprise. “Wait a minute— visit? Like actually, come over to America?” 

"Yeah. To Silver Crest to be exact. It is a small community in Washington state, in the Pacific Northwest. It’s absolutely gorgeous this time of year, the mountains are breathtaking and-” She stopped herself with a chuckle. "Sorry, I’m babbling. Anyway, I thought it would be fun for some family bonding time since Rachel told me you’ve been working yourself to death with your studies.” 

He had been, in fact. Third-year engineering was no joke, and he’d been pulling more all-nighters than he cared to admit. But still – fly all the way across the Atlantic to some tiny mountain town to stay with an aunt he’d never met? 

“I am not sure....” James started hesitantly, until Sarah jumped 

back in cheerfully. "There is enough space in my house and my stepson Alex is almost the same age as you. Well, a little younger. He’s still in high school but he’s a good kid. You would like him.” 

When she mentioned Alex's name, James froze for a second. There was more than just warmth in her voice—maybe it was concern mingled with worry, or perhaps fear hiding behind calmness. It's tough to tell over the phone." 

“How old are you again?” Sarah asked all of a sudden. 

"Twenty.” 

“Perfect! So not too much of an age gap for Alex. That’s seventeen years old. And his best friend Ethan is eighteen years old. That means you won’t be alone. It wouldn’t just be you with your boring old aunt."

A grin tugged on James’s face, against his will. Sarah’s enthusiasm was infectious even at nearly four in the morning. "You don’t sound that old.” 

"I'm forty-five, but I do my best to stay young at heart! So what do you think about spending Christmas in the Cascades? And I've got a knack for making delicious shepherd's pie," she teased.

James looked around his flat, there was stack of textbooks on his desk, the instant noodle cups in the bin, the general gloom of a London winter pressing against the windows. James pondered when was the last time he had taken a real holiday in these three years?  

“Can I think about it?” he asked. 

“Of course, take all the time you need, only don’t forget to tell me within this week so that I can arrange everything if you want to come. You can reach me through Rachel, or call this number."

They said their goodbyes, and James put his phone back on the nightstand, making sure not to place it on the wet ring left behind by his coffee mug. He needed to get back to sleep, as he had an important lecture at 8 o'clock that he couldn't miss.

But instead, he just lay there in the darkness, staring at the ceiling. 

Silver Crest, a name he had never heard of before tonight.

Yet, for some reason it sparked a sense of recognition, a tightening in his chest, that felt like a memory. 

He turned on his side and pulled the duvet up to his chin, but now sleep was far away. As the city outside hummed along, distant sirens, the rumble of a night bus, someone’s car alarm blaring a few streets away. 

James closed his eyes, attempting to drift off to sleep.