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“That’s why you saw me more your senior year than probably your entire high school career. I was afraid to leave you alone with him. If he hurt you…” Gavin stands and clasps his hands on top of his head. “And that’s exactly what he did.” Gavin’s leaving out the part that Jonathan left because of him. Before I can remind him of his role in all of this, he keeps talking. “I’m not talking about the night at the restaurant. It was before that. The moment he let you into that house, he put you in danger.

“That night we went to get him, Hal looked like he was seconds away from killing Jonathan—and us along with him.” He stares at the ceiling as if the memory’s playing on it, like a movie. “I knew if you stayed with him, something horrible was going to happen. I was seriously afraid for your life, Sadie.” His voice scratches.

“And I was right. I almost lost you. We almost lost you.” He squeezes his eyes shut and pinches them to hide his emotions.

“But I’m still here.” My soft words draw him back to me.

“Barely.” He’s silent for a moment, observing me like he doesn’t recognize who I’ve become. “You don’t sleep because the nightmares wake you most nights. You’re constantly checking your phone to see if he’s messaged you. You practically jump out of your skin when someone touches you. I feel like I did lose my sister that night. Because your light doesn’t shine as bright anymore. And it’s that light, that vibrant weird-as-hell disco ball light of yours, that brought so much joy to so many people. To me.”

“I’m not a disco ball anymore?”

Gavin shakes his head with a small smile. “You’re still weird, don’t get me wrong. But I miss my sister.”

“That doesn’t explain what happened at the restaurant.”

Gavin leans back in the chair. “I can’t really talk about it. And I lost my shit that night. I’d just discovered something in the investigation and drove down to Pennsylvania without thinking. I let my emotions obscure my judgment, and I was wrong. It was unprofessional. I’m a sworn member of the court, and—”

“Shut it,” I say, cutting him off. “Oath or no oath, you showed up that night as my brother, not as an assistant prosecutor. You know something. Tell me.”

He shakes his head. “You know I can’t.”

I know this. I was raised in a house of oaths and confidentiality. But if he knows something about what happened to Jonathan’s family, how can he keep it from me?

“All I will say is that I love you. You’re my little sister, and I will always do whatever I can to protect you, even if you hate me for it.” He pauses to make sure I heard him. “But I’m glad he’s gone. And I hope like hell he never comes back.”

I give her space. Allow her to heal surrounded by people who love her. But in the past few months, I’ve become one of those people too. I care about her, and I’ve been fighting with how to define it. I don’t want to be the person who makes anything harder for her.

All I’ve wanted to do since I met her is to be the person who helps her see what she truly deserves. Although there are moments in her life she didn’t get to choose, she has the choice now—to be stronger than what happened to her.

And while she’s discovering that strength, I’m learning that I don’t have to be defined by my past either. The pain. The hurt. The betrayal. I can find a way to release it. I’m just not there yet.

I’m packing my gym bag to head to the pool when my buzzer rings. The camera shows a girl with her head down standing outside. I hit the button to let her in.

I wait for her with my door propped open. “Emma? What happened?” I search her face for a hint of emotion. But she’s blank, all the color washed clean of her canvas.

“Can I come in?” Even her voice is devoid of inflection.

“Oh, yeah, of course.” I step back to let her enter.

I follow her up the stairs. Emma goes directly to the couch, clutching her hands as if she can constrain everything she’s thinking and feeling within her clasped palms. I sit across from her in the chair, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, fighting for patience.

“Rachel tried to kill herself last night,” she says flatly.

I nod. Oddly, I’m not surprised. A cry for help or seeking attention? It’s impossible to know with Rachel. Most likely she did it to get Emma back. Or to punish her.

“Don’t feel guilty.”

Emma looks confused, like she doesn’t understand.

“For not caring… you shouldn’t feel guilty.” I could sense it the moment she walked in. It’s not sorrow or hurt that’s keeping her emotions in check. It’s anger. Easy enough to detect when I’m forced to silence mine every day.

Emma’s eyes shine with tears, and her voice breaks with the emotion fighting its way out. “I feel so horrible. What kind of person am I? I mean, she’s my mother—”

“No, she’s not. She never was,” I counter, keeping my voice low and calm. “Emma, she wasn’t even close to being your mother. You have every right to hate her.”

A swell of release overtakes her. She begins sobbing into her hands. Once the repressed feelings come to the surface, there’s no stopping them. She gasps, her chest quaking. She hugs her ribs, the violent, racking breaths hurting her. This tsunami of emotions is a long time coming.

I sit next to her and wrap my arm around her shoulders. I can’t sit idly by while she breaks apart. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Emma. It was her choice, not yours. You didn’t make her do it.”