No matter what it costs.
This time, I’m not letting her go.
Four
JADE
I wakeup to the smell of cinnamon and something buttery drifting through the house. For a second, I forget where I am. Then the sound of waves crashing reminds me.
Chatham.
The Cape.
Irene’s perfect cottage that looks like it belongs on the cover of Architectural Digest.
I get dressed slowly in my new clothes—black sweater, black leggings, the jacket hanging nearby like armor waiting for the right moment. I’m not ready to put it on yet. Not this early.
When I go downstairs, Irene is sautéing something in a skillet and Aunt Susan is standing beside her, chopping apples and talking too fast. They look… happy. Comfortable.
Home.
I hesitate in the doorway before stepping in.
Susan looks up first. “Morning, honey.” Her eyes flicker over me—my short hair, my fresh brows, the way the new clothes fit—and she smiles like something inside her eases. “Sleep okay?”
“As well as I could,” I say, rubbing my arms. “Are we going home today?”
Susan laughs softly. “I like that you call my father’s old sea shanty ‘home.’”
I shrug, leaning against the counter. “It is home now. I love it there. Even with everything going on… it’s better than Ohio ever was.”
Her face softens. “I’m glad you think so.”
Irene plates something that looks like French toast but fancier. “Breakfast first. Life decisions after.”
Susan wipes her hands on a towel. “Before you eat, I should tell you… your mom called.”
My breath catches.
“Oh.”
“I know you wanted to leave your phone behind,” she says gently, “but I brought it. And your school bag. Laptops. Everything.”
I sit down slowly. “Does she know… about everything?”
“She knows enough,” Susan says. “And before you panic—today is a teacher workday. You don’t have class. You’re off the hook. Actually”—she nods, decisive—“you’re off the hook for the whole week. Then it’s Thanksgiving break. You’ll do your midterms online afterward.”
A small wave of relief washes through me.
“Thanks,” I whisper. “Really.”
She sits across from me. “We’ll make it a good holiday, Jade. I promise.”
I poke at the French toast. “I’d like that.”
Susan hesitates. “Do you… want to go home for Thanksgiving?”
I look up at her.
