The idea flared before the fear followed close behind.
Home.
Same streets. Same people. Same suffocating small-town familiarity. Same whispered loyalties. Same memories embedded in places that had done nothing to deserve the power they still had over me.
And him.
Still there. Still orbiting my family like he had every right to. My dead brother’s best friend. The police chief’s son. The golden boy with the easy smile and the poisonous hands.
Maybe I should?—
The thought died almost as soon as it formed.
Just imagining myself back in that town was enough to give me goose bumps, all those old instincts surfacing at once. The sting of long-faded bruises. The ache of cuts that had healed years ago. The terrible, humiliating fear.
I pressed my free hand flat against my thigh and forced myself to breathe.
“When is it?” I asked.
“December twelfth.” Her excitement flickered back to life, though not quite as brightly as before. “They said I’ll need a few weeks after, but if it works the way they think it will, I should be able to—” She stopped herself, biting down on the rest, like saying it out loud might ruin it. “Anyway. It’s good.”
“It’s really good,” I said quickly, forcing warmth into my voice before she could hear anything else. “Soph, that’s amazing.”
She smiled, and I could see the little girl she used to be, all stubborn determination and gap-toothed hope. It made something ache in me all over again.
“You could come,” she said, trying for casual and failing miserably. “If you wanted. I mean, only if you can. Mom said your PhD stuff is intense.”
There it was.
Not pressure. That would have been easier to handle.
Hope.
I looked away from the screen, buying myself time. “I don’t know yet.”
Her face changed just enough for me to notice. “Because of school?”
“Yes,” I said too quickly.
It wasn’t entirely a lie. That was the problem with good lies. You could always build them out of something true.
Sophie’s gaze sharpened. She might have been fourteen, but she missed less than most adults.
“Emily.”
The way she said my name made my stomach twist.
“I’m thinking about it,” I said, softer this time. “I am.”
She nodded slowly, and I hated that I couldn’t tell whether she believed me.
“I just…” She looked down, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. “I want you there.”
That did it.
I pressed my lips together and looked down before she could see too much on my face.
“I know.”