"Let me grab you something." I push up from the chair, bones cracking. "Your mom still keeps that navy throw on the couch?"
"You know this house better than most of my relatives."
I do. I know which floorboards creak, which cabinet holds the good glasses, and which windows stick in humid weather. That knowledge is both comforting and dangerous right now.
Inside, the house breathes with familiar sounds. I clock the hum of the refrigerator, the tick of the grandfather clock in the hall. I grab the throw from its spot, my fingers brushing over the soft cashmere blend that's been here longer than I have.
When I return, Janie's leaned back, staring at the stars. I hand her the blanket, our fingers brushing briefly, and settle back into my chair. Stretching my legs toward the fire, I rest my heels on the edge of the stone pit.
She cocoons herself in navy blue, her shoulders relaxing. "Remember when you and Blake caught us with those beers down at Miller's Point?"
I laugh, welcoming the shift. "God, he was furious. Stomping around like he was your father instead of your brother."
"And when he found out you bought us the beer, I thought he was going to rip your head off."
"Yeah, you could have kept that part to yourself. Luckily, he didn't ground either of us."
Her laugh floats up toward the palm fronds. "I guess it was training for his own family. He's such a great dad, right?"
"He is. He's a really good man." I poke at the embers, watching orange sparks spiral upward. "Always has been."
"He is. I'm hoping eventually he will stop worrying about me and realize I'm a woman and not the kid he has to protect."
"You know that’s baked into him," I say, turning my head to look at her. "He grew up fast with your mom. Thank God for Hank. I really think your dad is an undercover superhero."
"He did." My voice softens. "Blake was only seven when they met. Hank didn’t even blink at marrying Mom and making him his own."
"Pretty awesome."
The firelight catches the soft curve of her lips. Her straight nose, the delicate line of her throat. Something twists low in my chest. When did Janie, little Janie, become this beautiful, grown woman?
I drag my gaze back to the flames. I’m practically family. The stray they took in when everything fell apart.
“Your dad sat me down the first night I moved in,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “Full-on Hank Harrelson talk. Said I was welcome under his roof, but I’d better remember there was a pre-teen daughter in the house and boundaries were non-negotiable.”
Janie laughs softly. “That's hilarious. I can't believe he said that to you.”
“Best thing that ever happened to me,” I admit. “When my parents shut me out, your family gave me something solid. Rules. Dinner at six. People who noticed if I needed help.”
Her expression softens. “What about them? Your family? Have you talked to them recently?”
The question catches me off guard. Most people don’t ask. But Janie always did. She's never tiptoed around the hard things.
"No." I watch the last flames dance over charred wood. "Not once in twelve years. Can you believe that? My grandfather set up the education trust for all of us, so I had that for college and law school. I've been on my own, otherwise, since I was eighteen."
"Not even your mom?"
I shake my head. "She made her choice. Chose her marriage and social standing over..." Over me. I can't finish the sentence.
Janie watches me, her eyes reflecting firelight. "You know, I've heard bits and pieces over the years, but never the whole story. Feel like talking about it? Totally okay if you don't want to."
Part of me wants to deflect, keep the wall up like I always do. But something about tonight is different. Maybe it's knowing she's family, that she wants to knowbecause she cares. Or, maybe I've just had one too many IPAs.
"I mean, you know the whole story about Charlie killing that girl, right?"
She nods, but I'm not sure she knows the whole story. Maybe she doesn't need to.
"My father erased me after I testified against my brother." I jab the poker into the fire, sparks spiraling into the dark.