She nods. “You’re right. And yet, when it’s our turn, we forget our own advice.”
After a few moments, her shoulders soften. “My husband tells me you can’t save everyone. That the world is full of lost causes. I know he’s right. But it doesn’t mean we stop trying.”
“It would be a sad world if we did,” I agree, smiling at her as she stands.
“It would, wouldn’t it?” She smiles back, light returning to her eyes. “Nice to meet you. Enjoy the water.”
“Enjoy the rest of your trip,” I reply as she walks away.
I lie back, the boards hard and uneven underneath me as I stare at the sky. My family will be here soon. We’re havingbreakfast on the boat before everyone heads off on different activities for the day. But right now, it’s just me. I love to get up early and enjoy the day when it’s at its most peaceful like this, because as soon as all of my family arrive, it’ll be loud and busy.
I love the peace, but only because I love the chaos they bring more. One without the other wouldn’t work. Mom says that some days the people we love feel like what grit must feel like to an oyster, but that without grit there’s no pearl.
I grin, my skin warming from the rising sun as familiar voices grow closer.
I’m not going to be alone for long.
My family’s coming.
44
SLADE
PRESENT DAY
“Tate with Molly somewhere?”I ask Sullivan as I walk across the living area to where he’s sitting at his piano.
He looks at me, unfazed by me letting myself in like I used to years ago. It’s strange how quickly some things become normal again. How easily we slot back into some routines with more ease than others. The conversations with my brother are coming along, and we’re getting there. But when I knocked on his front door the day after Uncle Mal’s confession two weeks ago, Sullivan pulled it open with a scowl and told me I still had a key and I should use it.
So, if he’s expecting me, that’s what I do now. I let myself in like tonight, walking in like this is my home too.
“No, Tate’s at a work thing tonight. Molly’s gone to fetch her baby. It needs a feed before bed,” Sullivan says.
“Ah, I see.”
My brother’s lips curl a fraction, and I return his smile as my eyes slide to a photograph on a small table near the piano. It’s of him and me on our twenty-first birthday, both looking half-cut but happy. We were at some bar with friends. I don’t recallwhere, but I remember the drunken walk home with my brother after, and how my mother had rolled her eyes when we’d arrived singing, with our arms around each other on her doorstep. She’d bundled us inside, trying to hold back her laugh as our father let his ring out and clapped us both on the backs, asking if we’d had fun.
“It was Dad’s whack on the back that did it,” Sullivan grumbles, knowing what I’m about to say.
“Sure it was.” I smirk, recalling how Sullivan had thrown up his entire stomach contents onto their carpet minutes after walking in the door. After that it’s all a blur.
He chuckles.
I drop my head to hide the way my eyes fucking mist at the sound. It’s only the third time I’ve heard it since coming back. Since Uncle Mal dropped the bomb on us, everything has felt so goddamn hard. But each day has gotten easier.
We’re finally all in it together again.
My back is to the room, shielding Sullivan from view as small footsteps pad into the room.
“Daddy!” a little voice squeals, flinging arms around my legs, a baby doll dangling from one hand.
Sullivan’s eyes snap to mine as Molly squeezes my calf, oblivious to her error.
I shake my head softly.
Not yet, Brother.
One day, we’ll sit her down and explain it all. But not yet.
