With my jacket thrown over my shoulder, I hold onto a suitcase with each hand, rolling them down the airport exit ramps. Leaving customs, there’s a swarm of people on either side of me, desperate to get outside and meet up with their families. Sluggish from the fifteen-hour flight, my steps are slow, dreading the next hour it will take to get home.

It’s been eight months since I left Sydney. Some days were long, but most weeks were fast. After I spent the first few weeks wallowing in the pain of my broken heart, I challenged the world to heal it for me. And as best as she could, that’s what she did.

Looking out into the crowd, I search for a sign with my last name on it. I organised a shuttle bus to take me home. No hassle. No fuss.

In the corner of my eye, waving arms catch my attention. Turning, I’m shocked to see Dakota, my fifteen-year-old niece bouncing around excitedly on the spot. I feel the smile spread across my face with ease at the unexpected relief of seeing a familiar face; more importantly hers.

Dakota is the most remarkable human being on the planet, and undeniably my favourite person. We have an unusual bond, forged through some strange circumstances, but the fact that she’s here when I told her not to be, doesn’t surprise me. Selfless in ways no other teenager is, I’m lucky to have her in my life.

Jagger, my brother, and Dakota’s dad stands beside her, his arms wrapped around his girlfriend Emerson’s waist, who is happily leaning into him. Wherever Jagger is, Emerson follows, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

After spending twelve years in prison, this is how his second chance should be.

Walking toward them, the crowd separates, Dakota running straight for me. I drop my backpack, and free my hands of my suitcases, Catching her in a big bear hug.

“You’re here,” she squeals.

I chuckle at her excitement. “In the flesh.”

“We’re so happy you’re home,” she says as I put her feet back safely on the floor. At the mention of others being happy to see me, I look around, scanning our surroundings for brown eyes I know won’t be here. Eyes I shouldn’t be looking for.

Jagger waits for my gaze to land on him, giving me a sad smile and slight shake of the head. She didn’t come.

Shaking hands, he pulls me into a one-armed hug. “Nice to have you back, bro.”

“It’s good to see you too.” Letting go of one another, I lean over and give Emerson a hug; long enough to irritate Jagger.

“You guys didn’t have to come and pick me up.”

“Don’t be silly,” Emerson chides, while looking over at Dakota with a knowing smirk on her face. “It’s not like we had a choice anyway.”

Placing my hand on Dakota’s head, I ruffle up her hair. “I missed you too, kid.”

“Don’t,” she whines dramatically. “Do you know how long it takes to get my hair looking this good?”

Wrapping my arm around her neck, I pull her close so we’re walking side by side. “Shouldn’t you be at school today?”

“I took the morning off.”

I gasp in mock horror. “But you hate taking days off school.”

She laughs at my theatrics. “It’s not a whole day. I just didn’t want to miss you coming home.” She looks down at her watch. “I’ll be back after recess, and Mum agreed it would be a nice welcome.”

The mention of Sasha brings the reality of coming home crashing down all around me. The young girl in my arms, with a smile a mile wide isn’t someone I can avoid. She’s my brother’s daughter. My niece. My blood. But she’s also a blatant reminder of someone I thought I had done well to forget.

This is why living overseas was perfect, I thought of her on my own terms. Usually when I was chasing the end of a bottle, or conjuring up images of her body while another woman was underneath me. Relentlessly trying, and failing to recreate the high from being inside her.

It’s taken longer than it should’ve to finally realise Sasha will always be a scar on my heart. A deep cut held together by one single fraying thread; threatening to tear open and bleed over every bit of progress I make.

I don’t want her to be a setback anymore, or a dull ache I need to learn how to live with. I don't want to think of her with hate, regret or bitterness. We both deserve better than that.

I just want her to be in the past.

A memory.

An experience.

A movie I once watched.

A song I once heard.

I want to remember her and I for exactly what it is... A moment that was.

“I’ll be back after school.” Dakota’s voice brings me back to the present. “Dad’s going to drop me off on our way home, and you’re going to sleep while I’m gone.”

“Oh, I am, am I?”

“Yes. Dad, tell him he needs to sleep.” I turn to Jagger, and we both laugh at Dakota’s bossy nature.

“I’m going to take him home after we drop you off at school. I’ll even tuck him in and kiss him on the forehead.”

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Just make sure you have all your photos ready, so I can see whether you listened to any photo taking tips I gave you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I salute her. “I’ll be ready and waiting.”

I roll over in my bed, waking up to voices outside in the living room. The lack of light outside reveals I’ve been asleep for a lot longer than I intended. My muscles feel heavy, my mind fighting against my eyes wanting to stay awake. The time change, and the comfort of sleeping in my own bed is enough to feel like I’ve been anesthetized.

Throwing off the blankets, I swing my legs off to the side and lean my elbows on my thighs, my head in my hands. I need a shower.

A light knock sounds at the door, and the creak of it opening, has me watching to see who will come in.

“Hey man, did I wake you?” Jagger asks.

“Unless I sleep sitting up, no, you didn’t.” I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands, adjusting to the intrusion of light from the outside. “I was about to get up and have a shower, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just saving you from Dakota. She’s about three minutes off beating the door down, and turning the smoke alarm on to wake you up.”

“Patience isn’t her thing, huh?”

“Not today.”

“I missed her too.” I tilt my head toward the en-suite. “Give me ten, I’ll be out soon.”

“Drix,” he stalls.

“Yeah?”

“Dakota’s not the only one who missed you.”

“Aw, tell Em I missed her too.”

He shakes his head and smiles. “Fuck you.”

Turning on all the lights, I head for the bathroom and let the steam from the hot water fill up the small space before standing under the heavy spray. I roll my neck and let the heat relieve the tension from my head, shoulders, and all the way down to my back. I get lost in the small luxury of having endless amounts of hot water at my disposal, sponging and scrubbing every inch of my skin, more than once.

Pressing the stainless steel handle down, the spray stops and I yank the hanging towel off the top of the glass door. Drying myself off, I step into the room and rummage through the small pile of clean clothes and find a random pair of lounge pants and a t-shirt and quickly throw them on.

“Surprise.” Three familiar yet off key voices fill the room, followed by the bang of party poppers and multi-coloured streamers launched in my direction.

“What’s this?” I ask, knowingly.

“It’s your welcome home party.” Dakota’s innocent smile lights up every corner of the room. “We’ve got some food from every place you visited, and you can tell us a story and show us pictures when we stop at each country.”

My eyes flicker between Jagger and Em who, like everyone else who meets her, are completely caught up in Dakota’s enthusiasm. “Let’s get this party started then shall we, I’m starving.”

“Wow, these places are beautiful.” Dakota taps her fingers on the keys of my laptop, flicking through all the photos I took while I was away. As breathtaking as the scenery was, there’s something oddly satisfying in being here and hearing the sliver of envy in everyone’s voices as I relay stories and show off souvenirs. It’s a constant reminder of how I took the plunge and did something so out of character.

It feels years too late, but I try not to focus on that. My hands have been tied for so long, and I did what I had to with the cards I was dealt. There’s no rush now, I just have to promise myself, at least for a while, I am a priority.

Wide eyed, Dakota stares up at the three of us, in some sort of trance. “I can’t wait to go to all these places.” Looking down at her hands, she counts silently with her fingers.

“What you doing, baby girl?” Jagger asks.

“I’ll be finished school next year, and as soon as I turn eighteen,” she points at the screen, the photo of Valletta, the capital city of Malta at sunset. “I’m going there.”

A small crease forms in between Jagger’s brows and Emerson instinctively rubs circles on his back in comfort.

“It’s a little bit early to be planning, isn’t it? What if you want to stay here? Or go to University first?”

“University,” she blanches. “I’m not going to go to University. Not until I’ve taken photos of the world.”

“You can’t do that after?” No matter how much time has passed, I still know my brother like the back of my hand, and my heart breaks for the man who just got his daughter back only to lose her to the world and have no way to stop her.

“I can. I just don’t want to.”

Jagger would never push her, or tell her she can’t go. Not when he holds so much guilt for the twelve years of her life he missed, but that doesn’t mean when the time comes, he’s going to give in so easily. The problem is, neither will she.

“I think you should just wait and see how the next two years plan out.” Letting Jagger know I have his back, I try to steer the conversation away from the inevitable argument. “You might not even want to travel, by the time you finish school.”

A loud knock dilutes the tension before it has a chance to erupt. I look at Jagger. “You expecting someone?”

“It’s probably my mum,” Dakota answers.

“I thought you were staying here tonight.” Ignoring me, Jagger heads to the door and Dakota grabs her bag from the kitchen bench and meets her parents.

“Are you ready? We need to go.” Sasha’s hurried voice travels through the house, and I bite the inside of my cheek at her irritated tone.

“Wait,” I call out a little too loudly. In two large steps I’m standing beside Jagger and staring at the woman who looks different, but her presence still suffocates me the same as always. “Hi.” My greeting is stilted and void of any affection, yet civil enough for our audience. “I have a gift for Dakota. Just let me get it from my suitcase.”

Giving me a slight nod, she drops her chin to her chest, hiding her face from me. It stings.

She steps back into the darkness. “I’m going to wait in the car.”

Speechless, I push back what just took place and retrieve Dakota’s present. Wrapped up neatly in a map of Rome, I hand her a photo book I had made specifically for her. “Open it at home,” I instruct. Filled with photos I purposefully kept hidden from her viewing tonight, I know these will seal the deal on her future plans, knowing I’ll be the mediator between her and Jagger when the time comes.

With a look of understanding, she stands on her tiptoes and kisses me on the cheek. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too.”

“I love you.”

“Always, kid.”

Leaving Jagger and Dakota to their own goodbyes, Emerson’s eyes find mine, paired with an apologetic smile I don’t understand. Choosing to ignore her, I begin to clear the dining table. Minutes of sharing the same space as Sasha and I can’t ignore the fight or flight mode my body goes into. Eight months without saying a word to her, seeing her, or breathing the same air, and it all means nothing. I want to punch something. I want to scream and throw shit around like a mad man. I just want some fucking peace.

“Drix.” Jagger’s voice cuts through my internal rage. “Can we talk?”

Eyes watch me with caution and I feel even more out of place; unease taking over the usual sense of security I’ve felt in my own place, around my own family. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just grab a beer and sit back down. We want to tell you something.”

“Are you having a baby?”

“What?” Emerson shrieks, making me laugh. “Just sit down.”

Twisting the top off my beer, I sit in front of a fidgeting Jagger. “Spill it bro, worry isn’t a good look on you.”

Taking a quick swig of his drink, he looks from me to Emerson, and back again. “Em and I have been thinking of getting our own place together.”

“Okay,” I pause. “Not what I was expecting, but you know I have no issues with you here, and Em you’re more than welcome to live here too. Come and go whenever you please.”

“We know,” they say in unison.

“But…” I raise my eyebrows expectantly.

“Dakota.”

“What about her?”

“Sasha.”

“Shit, Jagger, what the fuck is it?”

“Dakota is always going to come over, more so maybe, because I live here, and Sasha and you—”

“There is no Sasha and me,” I cut him off.

“Exactly.” Emerson squeezes his shoulders, and he sighs and slumps back in the chair.

“I’m going to leave you both to it. There’s a shower and a bed calling my name.” Jagger looks up at her hungrily, and she kisses him with a promise of what’s to come. Forcing themselves apart, she struts away, and Jagger eats her up with his eyes.

“Just go with her,” I tease. “We can finish this later.”

“Nice try.” He smirks at me, “She’ll be waiting for me.”

“I don’t doubt that one bit.”

“Do you want another beer?” he offers.

“Buttering me up?”

“Maybe.” He makes a quick dash to the fridge and back, two bottles of beer before us, giving us both liquid courage.

“Look, Drix,” he says calmly. “Your business with Sasha will always be your business, but you left to get away from her.”

“I didn’t leave to get away from her.”

“Bullshit,” he says, agitated. “Eight whole fucking months, and two seconds outside and nothing is better. Nothing is different.”

“It doesn’t matter, Jagger. Dakota is non-negotiable. I will endure whatever I have to, to see her. Whether you live here or not, makes no difference.”

“I would never expect anything less, Drix.” He shakes his head. “That’s not what this is about.”

“What’s it about then?”

“I’m sick of seeing you in knots over her. She won’t talk to me about it, neither will you, and it’s killing me how much the whole thing hurts you both.”

“I thought leaving would change things, but she couldn’t even stand to look at me.” My voice cracks and Jagger’s face twists in anguish; there’s no hiding how out of my depth I am. I don’t have a solution and the notion that time heals everything is a crock of bullshit I can’t wait around for any longer.

“You know.” He runs his hand across the back of his neck before taking another sip. “She was a mess when you left.” Strangely, his revelation calms me. Knowing I’m not the only one suffering. “She showed up here one night, eyes puffy, face drawn, it was obvious she’d been crying for hours. When she asked if Dakota could stay here for a week, I knew it was bad.”

Images of me drinking everything in sight to the point where I couldn’t remember who I was, where I was or what I was doing reminds me just how bad it really was. “Something happen?” he presses.

A loud whoosh of air leaves my mouth before I drop the bomb. “We slept together.”

He doesn’t say a word, so I continue. “It was here when we had that barbeque the day before I was heading out. It was our first, and last time.”

“What?” he questions in shock. “You’ve known her your whole life, and never…”

“I’ve slept with a lot of women, Jagger, but none of them were her.”

“Fuck.” Confused, he repeatedly runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t know—” He cuts himself off while shaking his head. “Well, what happened? How were you two after?”

His questioning is warranted. He wants more, a sliver of understanding of how we got to this complicated and fucked up finish line. I wish I could give it to him. To both of us.

Tipping the bottle up, I drain it of the last few sips remaining and place it down, empty, between us. I lean forward, look my brother straight in the eyes, and admit to the obvious, hard and painful truth. “It doesn’t matter. It didn’t change a single fucking thing.”