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I grab jeans, shirts, underwear, and a few good hoodies, but the bag is barely half full when I run out of things that matter. Twenty-one years in this house and my life fits in one bag with room to spare. I have a box of important documents safely tucked away in my closet that I plan to leave for safekeeping.

I sit on the edge of my bed, waiting to feel sad, but I don’t.

This was Mom and Dad’s house. I have some good memories—I learned to ride a bike on the street, Leni took her first steps in the front room—but the bad memories now far outweigh them. The joy of the kitchen, where Mom would make pancakes on Sundays, is overshadowed by counting money to pay Rowan’s debts. Our front door, the one I would run through after school, is now gone. The driveway is the place where my own brother hit me. I have held onto this home because it was theirs, but they haven’t been here for a long time.

I move through the rooms one last time. Though I know this isn’t goodbye, that I won’t be staying on the island forever, I don’t think I will be in a rush to come back. After Noa’s call and the emotions of not being there to help Cave, I realized it’s time I live for me.

I peel the pineapple magnets off the fridge and drop them into a ziplock bag with the photos they were holding up. Mom and Dad at the lake, a gap-toothed Leni at seven, and one of Leni and me before she left for college. The sunset diner magnet from the last vacation we took as a whole family joins the others in the bag.

I make my way into the front room. The couch still has the blanket Rowan used the last time he was here folded at the end. Nobody has told me where my brother is, and part of me needs to know. I have lived on edge for so long, waiting for the next problem he brings home, yet I am also relieved and don’t want to know. Cave confirmed he’s alive, and that’s good enough for now. I doubt he will come back to Fear Island again.

On my way out, I lift the flowerpot by the front step and take the spare key from under it. It was there for Rowan, because he always lost his keys. But after what he did in the cornfield, I don’t feel sorry for him any longer. He has created this mess, and he needs to be held accountable. No more free rides from me.

This house once belonged to my grandmother, and she gave it to my mom before she met my dad. It is to be passed down to the first-born girl in every generation, and if sold, a new house needs to be purchased. It’s a family tradition of sorts, which I plan to honor.

The drive to the island is bittersweet, a new beginning. Even if it’s not the island itself that is my final destination, it’s a beginning. I thought I had to go back to the house to get a job and support Leni. Though I still plan to do those things, why can’t I do them from the island surrounded by my men? The logical side of my brain screams that I haven’t known these men long enough, and maybe that is true, but my heart says fuck it. I know they need me right now, and there isn’t anywhere else I would rather be.

By the time I get to the island, I am buzzing with excitement to see them.

Khodi stops me at the gate. “Do they know you’re coming?”

I nod. “I didn’t give them a time, but I told them today.”

“Noa is going to lose his mind,” he says with a grin.

I laugh as I try to imagine how surprised he’s going to be. When Khodi opens the gates, I pull in and find a spot to park. I have no idea how to get to the shed in a vehicle, so will have to walk, then get one of them to come back with me to move it. I’m barely out of the car when Nixie appears.

“Valli, perfect. Walk with me for a second.”

Nixie doesn’t wait to see if I follow her; she simply turns and strolls down the main path, so I jog a few steps to catch up. She is in normal clothes today. No ringmaster coat.

“How’s the job hunt?” she asks.

I chuckle. “Word really travels fast here.”

“Sweetheart, nothing happens on this island that I don’t know about.” She glances at me sideways. “I heard you were supposed to have an interview today. Coffee shop over in East Estate.”

I stop walking. “How do you know that?”

“Because I make it my business to know things.” She stops and turns to face me. “Cancel it.”

“Excuse me?” I push back, even though I already have.

“Cancel it and come work for me. I need an assistant. Mine quit last week.”

I blink at her. “What happened to them?”

Nixie sighs. “She cried in the gift shop for twenty minutes, then left her radio on the counter and took off. She was dramatic and had no spine.” Nixie waves a hand in the air. “The one before her lasted six weeks, and before that nine days. Apparently, I’m difficult.”

“Are you?” I ask.

“Extremely,” she says, owning it. “I’m demanding, I’m particular, I do not repeat myself, and I have a set way I like my coffee. But I pay well, I don’t play games, and I will never make you feel small while I’m working you into the ground. Can the same be said about the boss who told you not to come back until your face was presentable?”

Her words hit like a slap in the face. “No,” I admit.

“Didn’t think so.” She stalks forward again, and I fall in beside her. “The job is admin, profiling, scheduling, invitations, chasing up signatures, and making sure the chasers actually read the paperwork I give them. You already know how this place runs, you’ve signed an NDA, and half of the island likes you already. Which is already more than most of my other assistants.”

“And they were . . .”