I stop before the steps to the old Victorian house Benny and Laura own. I remember sitting with Renee on the long, worn steps. It must have been a few weeks after I came to live with them, and Renee was telling me about Portage. From a teenaged-girl perspective, at least. How there was this guy she knew that threw the best parties over the summer—defined by liquor and hot guys—while his parents were off sailing. How there was this lake not far away where we could go skinny dipping while her parents were at the bakery.

Then she’d sat up suddenly. “I meant our parents.” And she smiled this wide smile that I hadn’t learned how to do yet.

“I’ve always wanted a sister,” she told me.

I didn’t respond. I didn’t know what to say. The world was such a blur of things that didn’t make sense. My mother arrested. My brother a runaway. I was suddenly living with a father I didn’t know and a family I’d never met. And here was the girl saying that we were sisters.

It was terrifying. I never understood why she’d want to be part of me. Part of the horror my mother had handed me. The echo, the legacy. I had a thousand different names for it.

But staring at those steps now. The place where we had sat so long ago. Maybe she was the one who saw clearly.

I’m not my mother. I’m not my brother. Not a legacy or an echo or anything.

I’m just me. Ella.

And I’m tired of things unsaid. Secrets, lemon truths and buttermilk lies.

Something I said to Renee when I told her I was calling a family meeting.

I walk up the steps and knock on the door. I haven’t been into this house since I was here with Dean. I’ve hardly talked to Benny since then—passing by each other silently as we trade shifts at the bakery. Didn’t even call to talk to them after my mother’s escape. I assume Renee told them what happened. Or they read it in the news.

A long minute passes, and I check the time on my phone. Crap, did I get the wrong day?

Then Laura opens the door. She’s got a walker, but also a smile. I embrace her before walking into the kitchen to find Renee and Benny already at the yellow-and-blue-flowered table. The rich smell of herbs always makes the house feel so alive. I’ve missed being in this house.

I glance back to Laura. “Of the three of you, you’re the one who has to answer the door?”

“I told them I wanted to.” She slowly sits, her smile fading. “That I don’t need everyone taking care of me so much.” She glances at Benny and raises a determined eyebrow.

He sits across from me, his hands on the table. “Ella—”

I shake my head. “I called this family meeting. I’m going to talk first.”

He shifts uncomfortably, and Renee’s eyes widen. But I ignore it all. I’m done being the silent family member.

I take a breath. “The truth is hard.” I turn to look at Laura. “But I think it’s time for all of us to tell it.”

She nods. I think she already knew what I came here to say. She probably knew it the minute she saw that my mother had returned to Portage.

“No,” Benny says. “It’s too much.”

“It’s not.” Laura shakes her head, staring him down. “It’s my story. And it’s time that I tell it.”

And then she does. In short, simple sentences, she tells about Mira and Charles. About what happened to her in that bar. I grip onto the table and listen. Benny’s across from me with an ashen face. I can tell he wants to go to her, but he does what she asks and stays in his seat. And Renee cries so hard that I worry she might break apart.

Laura tells her the same thing she told me. That there’s no easy path through. We’ve got to take the help where we find it and keep stepping forward. The strength in Laura makes my eyes fill with tears. All that she’s been through, and she just keeps moving forward—looking for her path and her answers. It gives me hope.

When Laura ends, I take over the story. Telling them about Anthony and me helping Charles out of that house. About Dean and how he made the memories come back. But how he also gave me something else—courage to finally face those memories.

Benny tells Renee about how he chased me out of the house. His fingers rattle against the table as he recounts shoving it at me. There’s still so much tension between us. Maybe that tension will never be gone, but him being honest about it was a tiny step.

After a long minute digesting Benny’s words, Renee tells us she’s been seeing some doctors up in Upper Bay. Laura and Benny both start demanding to know more. Renee repeats that it’s nothing serious, but there’s concern under her smile. I reach for her hand and tell her that I’m going to her next appointment with her. Putting me off is not an option.

We talk for hours. Laura asks about Dean’s recovery and when she gets to meet him. Soon, I promise.

It’s almost dark by the time Renee walks me to the door. We stand on the top step, looking out at the tree-lined street that’s studded with only a few porch lights. There are no more secrets between us.

I hope.

I turn towards her. “Why didn’t you tell me about the doctor’s appointments? And don’t say you didn’t want to worry me. You know I would have wanted to be there for you.”

“I know.” She wrinkles her nose. “I just didn’t want to interrupt anyone’s life.”

“It’s not an interruption.”

“I know that too.” She sighs, her hair floating in the light breeze. “But I’m fine for now, which is all any of us can say. I just want you to live your life. With Dean. And whatever you may or may not decide to do. I want you to make the choice for you.”

I eye her. “What are you talking about? Is this another set up of some kind? I thought we were done with secrets.”

She laughs. “Well, not all secrets. Some are good, fun secrets. And I promise to tell you if I need something.”

“Okay.” But I keep eyeing her. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Nope.” She shakes her head. “You’ll know what I’m talking about later.”

“Hmm….” I contemplate the quiet evening, musing on the possibilities.

“I used to envy you,” she says, breaking into my thoughts. “When I was younger and you came to live with us. You seemed like you’d seen so much and been to all these places. I didn’t understand until later what that meant. Or how hard it must have been to have Mira as your mother. The things you must have thought about yourself.”

I nod and wait for her to finish. Because I know what’s coming.

“You know, I’m pretty good at math.” She takes my hand in hers.

“I know you are.” I squeeze her fingers.

She turns toward me. “Benny’s not my father, is he?”

I shake my head. “I think that’s why he was so desperate to keep it from you.”

She nods, sucking in a deep breath and blowing it out through her nose.

“It doesn’t make you someone else, Renee.” I fight for the right words. “Just because—”

“I know it doesn’t.” She rolls her eyes at me. “That’s something I’ve been trying to tell you for years. But you were like this whisk that just kept beating the same egg.”

“I’m a whisk?”

“Kinda.” She shrugs a shoulder. “I get why you felt that way. But whoever that guy is, he’s not worthy of being my father. I’m better off without him.”

“You are.”

She sucks in a breath. “But Benny not being my father means something else, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” I admit. “We’re not sisters.”

She shakes her head. “Fuck that. We are absolutely sisters.”

I laugh. “You picked a good time to start cussing.”

She nods sagely. “I did.”

There was no trial for my brother. He pleaded guilty and took a deal for ten years. No fanfare, no newspaper articles. Just a quiet agreement that was barely a blip on the screen for anyone else. He wouldn’t tell me what happened with Charles. But whatever it was, he must have felt like he needed to pay for it.

Or like he needed to pay for the other things that happened before. He was a child, like me. But even so, it’s hard to escape the guilt.

I sit in the little visiting room and wait for him, bouncing a little in my chair.

Then he’s there with a guard looming behind him.

Anthony’s put on some weight. Not a huge amount, but enough that it doesn’t look like his bones will rattle anymore. He reaches for me and wraps me in his arms even though the guard following him grips his shoulder.

“No hugging. Sit.” The guard’s gruff voice doesn’t leave room for debate.

Anthony gives me one last squeeze before letting me go.

“How are you?” I sink down to a wooden seat that sticks to the back of my thighs. My ragged cut-offs feel like they should be more.

“That’s a hard question to answer.” His words are quick, even. Sober, I realize. I wonder if I’ve ever met this version of my brother. He plucks at his brown jumpsuit, just a shade darker than our mother’s. “Although I’m like her now.”

“No.” I lean forward. “You’re not.”

He flinches at the words. Then he scratches his wrist and looks away.

“You’re not,” I repeat. “Not if you don’t want to be. You know what I see? A man who’s trying to find his path through life and who’s taking responsibility for what he did. And this”—I gesture to the guard and the thick glass windows—“is not the answer I expected for you, but maybe it’s what you need. Learning how to deal with how we grew up. Taking steps forward.”

He glances at the guard. “I’m not sure there’s any forward steps here, Elly.”

“Maybe they’re just hard to see right now. But keep trying, okay? Don’t give up.”

“Shit, Elly. When you put it like that...” He clears his throat. “Now tell me stuff.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “How was the kite festival?”

My mouth drops open. “You mean other than the obvious?”

“Yeah, other than that.” His eyes narrow. “I did a lot of fucking paperwork. I don’t do paperwork for just anyone. I want to hear how it went.”

“Well…” I blink at him. “We sold out of the cupcakes. And the bed and breakfasts are already filling up for next year. Turns out that all the media attention was actually pretty good for the festival.”

“A silver lining.” Anthony leans back in his seat. “Carly told me those exist.”

“And do you believe her?”

“It’s hard believing anything in here.” He pulls at his jumpsuit again. “But, yeah, I’m gonna keep trying.”

I sit in the galley and absently flip through my father’s will. There’s nothing unexpected in it. Nothing I didn’t already know. When I took over for his healthcare, I was given power of attorney and so all this was already handled. It’s what part of the money from the Neverland had gone too—taking care of all the legalities. With one end goal in mind: the Heroine.

I still double check what it says. Maybe I’m waiting for the last unexpected backhand to come. Like he can still reach me even after his death.

But all the paperwork is in order. The Heroine belongs to Sebastian and me. There’s no last backhand.

Footsteps move across the deck above and come through the hatch. I push myself back in my seat, and my side immediately starts burning. Not pain, really—just this over-heated discomfort. Never in a million years would I guess that I’d be shot. Lost at sea? Maybe. But a gunshot? Not possible.

I grab a potato chip and toss it into my mouth. Sebastian’s been doing the shopping while I’m recovering, and he basically just brought home spinach and potato chips. That’s it. I need to text Ella and see if she can bring something else so I don’t have to subsist on this strange diet.

“Hey, man.” Sebastian steps into the galley and eyes the sea of papers on the table. And then his half-eaten chips. “What’s all this?”

I set down the will. “Since I’m not capable of helping topside, thought I’d do some organizing down here.”

He crosses the room and then sits across from me. He snags the will and reads a few lines.

“And I wanted to talk to you,” I say. “About an offer.”

“An offer?”

“For the Heroine.” I rub my hand along my jaw, feeling the unfamiliar rough stubble. Raising my hand to shave hasn’t been comfortable. Although Ella seems to enjoy the change.

“You’re serious?”

“Yep. Grayson. He sold that schooner we refurbished last summer, and now he’s looking for something different.” I reach for a chip, but then decide I’m better off without it. “He’d mentioned he was interested in the Heroine before. So I called him, and he wrote us an offer.”

“Okay.” Sebastian nods, that cleft in his chin deepening. “But this is your boat, Dean. It always has been. If you need to keep her—”

“I don’t.” I take a piece of paper off one of the stacks between us. The one that has the amount of Grayson’s offer. And it’s not small. “I need to do the opposite, actually. Just let it go.” I slide the paper toward Sebastian, and he stares down for a long moment.

“That’s more than she’s worth,” he says,

“Not to him.” I nod toward the chips. “And then you’ll be able to afford more than spinach and potato chips.”

Sebastian glowers at me. “I told you to give me a list. You never listen.” He picks up the slip of paper. “Are you sure about this?”

I nod.

“That’s a lot of fucking money.”

I can’t help but smile. “I know. What are you going to do with your half?”

His glower shifts into a grin. “I don’t know yet. You?”

“I’ve got an idea.”