“You’re not fine,” she shouts, and I can see Jake walking back into the house behind her. “You’re bleeding!”

She turns my face to inspect my cheek, and I touch it, pulling my hand away to see a little blood. I must’ve scraped it somewhere in all the running.

I hug her again, her long, dark hair soft like designer shampoo can do and smelling like a spa. Memories wash over me.

I pull away to look at her. She looks like I used to. I’d forgotten how manicured I once was. Her nails, her make-up, her hair…

“How did you get here?” I ask. “I thought I was picking you up at the airport.”

“I got an earlier connection and rented a car,” she explains, still inspecting my body to make sure I’m okay. “I had a weird feeling you were going to try to keep me from here or something.”

Very astute, actually.

I look around, seeing Noah and Jake staring, Kaleb still silent in the kitchen.

“Let’s go back outside,” I tell her.

“Tiernan…” Jake says as I pass, but I ignore him.

I grab my jacket, Mirai’s handbag, and hand it to her as I take her back out to her car, which still sits running with the headlights on. She must’ve bolted from it when she saw Benson’s cop car. She might’ve even passed the ambulance on her way up here, too.

“Is that him?” She looks behind us as I take her back down the steps. “Your uncle?”

“Just come on.” I slip on my jacket.

I should introduce her. We should all sit down and talk.

But I can’t do this. I need to get my head straight before I decide what she needs to know and doesn’t, and too much has happened in the last twelve hours, I haven’t even processed it myself. I need to send her off, deal with Kaleb, and then deal with her.

“I need you to go to a motel in town,” I tell her, stopping at the car. “I’ll come to you in a bit. I’ll meet you there.”

“What?” she blurts out. “No!”

“Please?” I plead, gazing into her brown eyes with those warm flecks of amber. “I need to do something here. Please. Don’t worry.”

“Tiernan,” she starts.

But someone approaches, and I look over, seeing Kaleb open the car’s back door, set my suitcase inside, and close it again.

I freeze.

I watch as he moves to the passenger’s side front door and open it for me, meeting my eyes.

And suddenly, Mirai isn’t here. Jake and Noah aren’t watching from the porch, and I can’t feel the rain that’s turned lighter now, hitting my head.

He’s helping me leave.

He’s telling me to leave.

I stare at him, my eyes burning, but I’m too shocked to cry. He’s drawing a line. The line I was afraid to draw earlier when I packed. I didn’t want to leave.

I just thought I’d give us some space.

Or maybe I hoped he’d find me gone and come after me.

He’s telling me to go, though. He would rather me leave than ever have to say anything to me.

I hold his beautiful green eyes, seeing the emotion behind that he tries to hide, but as I try to search for what to say to solve this—to save us—there are no words left.

Maybe words were never really the problem. Actions speak louder, don’t they say?

And his are loud and clear.

I climb into the car, as if on auto-pilot, quickly closing the door, my insides knotting and twisting, because the idea of leaving isn’t real. This can’t be happening.

This isn’t happening.

“Kaleb,” I hear Noah bark.

Mirai rounds the car, hopping into the driver’s side and putting the car in reverse.

“Tiernan!” Jake bellows, and I see him pounding down the steps out of the corner of my eye.

“No!” Noah yells.

Jake slams his hand on the hood of the car, staring at us through the windshield. “Stop!”

“Just go,” I tell her, turning my head away so Kaleb can’t see the tears. “Please…. please just go.”

She locks the doors, slams on the gas, and I bury my face in my hands until we’re deep, down the dark highway, away from the house, and I can’t see his face again.

Tiernan

I move my spoon through the soup, listening to the quiet. God, this house is like a tomb. I always knew that, but damn.

Right now, the boys would be watching TV, Noah laughing loudly while Jake yelled at him from the kitchen about his damn dishes.

There would be music.

Joking and playing.

Life.

There would be Kaleb.

My chin trembles. It’s been twenty-two hours since I’ve seen him.

Everything feels foreign now. I look around my parents’ white kitchen, pristine marble counter tops, and chrome appliances. This isn’t my home.

Mirai pushes a leather binder across the island to me. I glance at it.

“They left you everything, of course,” she says. “This is for your records.”

My parents’ will stares back at me, and I look away, back to my soup.

God, I don’t care. My heart has been ripped out, and it’s still laying in their driveway in Chapel Peak.

I blink away the tears. I need to stop trying to understand how he could let me go. It’s nothing I’m not used to.

At least my parents left me the money. At least I was a mention in the will. Proof that they cared enough to make sure I’d be okay.

I was always sure of a life of comfort with them, if nothing else. I’m so rich, I’ll never have to lift a finger in the world or even leave this house if I don’t want to.

Six months ago, I might’ve been grateful for that.

“Don’t stay here,” she begs. “Stay with me. Or rent an apartment? You need people around you.”

I sit up, pushing the bowl away from me. “You know me by now,” I tell her. “I may have the personality of a brick, but…I don’t need anyone.”

I’m kidding. I need the candy-making people and… the Netflix people.

“It’s not a weakness to need anyone,” Mirai says, watching me. “Except those pricks. If I knew what they were going to do, I wouldn’t have let you get on that plane. Twice.”

“Stop.” I shake my head at her, tired all of a sudden. “That’s not what happened, and I’m not a child. I haven’t been one for a long time.”

She looks away, her lips tight, but she stays quiet.

I told her everything on the car ride to the airport last night. She was livid, almost running us off the road, and she nearly turned us around to go back to the house so she could deal with my uncle. I had to beg her to reconsider. I cried the whole plane ride to L.A.

I didn’t mean to spill everything, but I needed perspective. I needed a new friend, I guess.

“They’re my family,” I say, my voice gentle. “We were forced together and shit happened.”

I was there. Not her.

My only wrong-step was falling in love with one of them.

She looks like she wants to say more, but eventually, she nods, letting it go for now. “Carter is walking the grounds,” she says, slipping her heels back on. “I’ll be back later with some clothes.”