“She wasn’t taking her meds. Do you know how dangerous that is? Of course you don’t, because you haven’t been around to see Dylan go through this mess. Dad’s hand was on her face? Of course, he had his hand on her face. He wanted to make sure she swallowed those pills. You don’t know anything. Mom says that all you can remember is your lies, and I see that she’s right. Go back to New York, Hartley.” Her lips curl. “You’re not wanted here.”

Then she steps back and slams the door in my face.

I stand there for a long time, staring at the brass doorknob until the swirls on the calligraphic W etched into the center blur in front of my eyes. I don’t know what to do. I could go to the police, but report what? I have no proof.

My wrist begins to ache. I rub it. I could get my medical records. Would those tell me anything? I don’t even know the name of the school I went to, though. Or where it was. New York is a big state. Who would know?

Jeanette’s unread message pops to mind. Hurriedly, I pull out my phone and bring up the messaging app.

Hey! You doing better? Mom said you were in a bad accident and lost your memory?!!! That’s so terrible. I don’t have much info for you. We lost touch when you went to boarding school in NY. When Nana died, your parents used the money from the education fund to send you there. I can’t remember the name of it, but I think it was like Northwind or Northfield Academy. It had North in it. Your old number is 555-7891. I called it but it’s disconnected and no longer in service. I wish I could remember more. I hope you feel better!

Shit. I should have contacted her earlier. I need to get home, I decide. I won’t go in, but I need to see Dylan and talk to her, let her know if anything happens, I’ll be there for her. This time I don’t take the bus. My parent’s house is only a ten-minute drive from Parker’s, so I call for a car. It’s a minor miracle, but I arrive at the same time that my sister is being dropped off.

"Dylan!” I rush up to catch her attention. “Did you have a good time?"

She stops, a big smile on her face. “Yup.”

She smells of hay and manure and sweat, but her smile is so pretty it doesn't matter. I want to hug her but am afraid she’ll reject me. Screw it. I go in anyway, swiftly giving her a two-armed embrace. She barely squeezes me back, but she doesn’t push me away so I call it a win.

I glance over my shoulder, wondering how long I have until Mom comes out and chases me away. “Do you have your phone on you?”

Dylan’s brows crash together. “Yeah, why?”

“Because I got a new phone and want to add you. That way we can text during class and stuff.” And at night, in case you need me.

She slowly pulls out her phone. “I guess. I don’t really text much.”

“That’s fine. I’ll try not to bother you.” Come on. Come on, I silently urge her. "What kind of riding do you do?"

"I'm jumping now." She unlocks her device.

"Wow. That's awesome. Can I come watch?"

"Why would you want to?" she asks, suspicion coloring her face and voice.

"You're my sister and you're doing something cool. Seems like the question is, why wouldn't I want to?”

"You never were interested before." Her fingers hover over the screen.

"I was obviously a shit sister before," I joke, but inside I die a little at this. Dylan's so young and she needed support, but apparently, I was a heartless jerk. "The head injury knocked some sense into me."

"Are you trying to make me feel sorry for you? Because I don't," my sister responds.

"No. That's not my intention at all.”

The door creaks open behind me. Ah, shit. “Your number,” I say urgently.

She scowls. “Are you leaving me again?”

Again. God, how can one word wreck me so much? She was hurt that I went away to boarding school.

I blink away the tears before nodding. “No. I’m here. I never wanted to leave in the first place, but I can’t change the past. I’m here now. That’s why I want to exchange numbers. Please. Please, Dylan.”

She glances over my shoulder.

“Dylan, it’s time to come inside,” Mom says coldly. “Your sister won’t be joining us tonight.”

“I thought you weren’t leaving me,” Dylan cries.

“I’m not. I promise you. I’m staying in Bayview. Maybe not here in the house, but in Bayview. Okay? Please. Your number.”

She hesitates, and I hold my breath.

“Dylan, come inside,” Mom says again.

My sister nods and starts walking. I want to die inside, but as she passes me, she mumbles seven digits under her breath. I close my eyes with relief and then hurriedly enter them into my phone. The door shuts behind Dylan, but Mom remains on the step.

“Since you remember you have an apartment, I suggest you go back there. This hasn’t been your home for three years. You’re not welcome here until you stop with your lies and slander.”

Then it looks like I won’t ever be coming home. I clutch Easton’s jacket in my hand and burn my very last bridge. “I’ll be back, but it’s going to be to take Dylan away from you.”

I turn on my heel and walk off. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I’m going to make it happen.