When we rejoin everyone by the pool, the patio is more crowded than before. More of Laura's friends are over, some who've also brought along their kiddos, and I recognize one little girl, Jade, from the daycare center.

She smiles when she sees me but clings to her mother's leg anyways. I offer a little wave but don't break away from Luke. Not to join Laura or her friends, that's for sure.

Older couples, friends of Mr. and Mrs. Henson, sip wine and lounge in the expensive Adirondack chairs lining the side of Luke's large back yard. It's odd how easily I can pretend my own parents are a pair of them: Dad inspecting the grill with Mr. Henson and Mom laughing, head thrown back, with Talia.

And Casey. He'd be playing volleyball in the pool or sneaking out with Luke to the liquor store. My eyes sting, seeing everyone else enjoying a Henson cookout without Case there.

I look away quickly, before I can catch anyone's eye. Somehow, with more people around, I feel even more invisible and yet in the spotlight all at once.

I wonder, if when everyone looks at me, they catch glimpses of my brother, like I do when I stare into the mirror.

If they'd previously forgotten about the accident and the name Casey Anderson, but seeing one of my dark brows quip up reminds them of the golden boy that would sometimes make sarcastic jokes - the farthest from polite that he ever ventured, really. We looked most alike, we'd always been told, when we were being snarky.

I'll recognize it on their faces if - when - they do finally put the pieces together. One moment, they're looking at me and I'm just a girl they feel slightly sad for, even if they don't remember why. And then they realize what they'd forgotten and their expressions turn guilty, pitying.

And I can't fucking stand it.

"What're you thinking?" Brynn asks and for a second, I'm worried she read my mind. Then she taps my forearm with the paper plate Talia put out next to the plastic cutlery, and says, "Burger or dog?"

Taking the plate from her, I inhale deeply and shrug my shoulders. "Hard to decide when everything looks so good."

The air is thick with smoke from the grill, carrying with it the delicious aroma of propane and charred meat. The patio furniture has been pushed to one side, drinks and dirty napkins claiming people's seats as they wait in line for food.

The food itself lines a long, white, foldable picnic table Mr. Henson brought out.

Hot dogs and hamburgers and cheeseburgers. Ribs and brisket. Pulled pork and grilled chicken. Kebabs and sausages. Big bowls of watermelon and a tray of chocolate covered strawberries. Bowls of potato salad, macaroni salad, Caesar salad. More bowls, overflowing with various chips and pretzels. Ears of corn, grilled and buttery, and oven roasted sweet potato and summer squash.

My stomach growls at the spread and I realize that in my rush to make Grams her meals before I left, I never ate myself.

So I grab a plate and hand one behind me to Luke, feeling a bit calmer as his finger tips graze my hand. I pile mine high with a cheeseburger, some ribs, and lots of potato salad, my subconscious mind preparing for Casey to run by, ask "Anything good?" and steal something from my plate before I can reply.

"Hungry?" Luke chuckles, eyeballing the mound of food I have and an emptiness pangs inside my chest.

"Starving." I try for a smile.

As we settle, Brynn chats animatedly about the Bash, wondering if Mr. Henson might mind stepping in as the caterer.

"I mean, we haven't found anything great, yet, right, Dylan? And this," She points her fork towards the brisket, perfectly smoked and seasoned, "Is so yummy..."

Soon, everyone is eating around us, taking up spots on towels in the grass when we've run out of real furniture. Scrapes of plastic forks against paper plates and murmurs of how delicious it all is and toddler's giggling fill the back yard happily.

As for us, we're lost in discussion about the Bash. Brynn and I brainstorm and Luke makes fun of everything we suggest, content only when we reassure him that there will be plenty of alcohol to drink and he won't have to worry about the other cheesy stuff, if he so chooses. He grabs my fingers under the table, holding them against my thigh.

For a moment, a beautiful, blissful moment, everything feels normal. Pre-accident normal. And my chest, while not full, feels a little less empty.

Brynn's curls bounce as she laughs loudly and I'm reminded how much I miss the sound.

Something buzzes in the pocket of my dress and maybe it's because of Brynn's laugh or maybe it's Luke's hand in mine, but when I see MOM across the screen, my heart doesn't sink, as it usually does.

For some reason, I feel inclined to answer. Holding it out to Luke, I say, "Mind if I take this?" and head inside when he says he doesn't.

Navigating the Henson home, through its big rooms and down its familiar halls, is easy. I'm tempted to follow the stairs to Luke's old room, the spot where I lost my virginity that summer, but another vibration from my phone leads me into a quiet bathroom instead.

Closing the door behind me, I'm about to answer when I see two little feet sticking out from behind the shower curtain. Glancing another time at MOM, I set the phone down with a sigh.

"Now who..." I say loudly, "Could these little toes belong to?"

I pull the curtain back gently and see Finn standing there, head down, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn't lift his head to see me, but when I kneel down in front of him, I see the tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Oh, Finn. What's wrong? What're you doing in here? Your mom must be looking for you."

I can't remember if Laura seemed concerned, or even aware, of his absence. Maybe she's noticing him gone now.

"I don't care." Finn hiccups, pulling his arms tighter around him. "Mommy's mad at me, and so is Daddy."

"Oh," I gasp, my heart breaking a little. I reach an arm around him and squeeze gently, "No one is-"

"And Uncle L-L-Luke, too." Finn cries into my shoulder, like that's the worst thing of all.

"Shh," I coo, smoothing his wild curls with my hand. I hold his arms firmly to get him to look at me, "Finn, Uncle Luke is not mad at you. Mommy isn't, either, okay?"

I hug him again and as he clings to me, he sniffles, "But they were yelling."

"I know," I murmur. "I know, but they just love you so much, do you know that? And sometimes grown-ups get really, really scared, like when you fell in the pool, and they can't help it. But it's not because they're mad at you, it's because they love you so much."

I don't know if it's my place - it probably isn't. But it's the truth. None of this is Finn's fault. Even his father, I'm sure, isn't mad at him. How could he be, with a kid as great as Finn?

"Okay..." Finn mumbles.

"Okay." I repeat, smiling as I take his hand. "Why don't we find Mom and Uncle Luke, and you'll see for sure?"

"Okay," Finn repeats, sniffing again.

Just as I stand upright to lead him out of the bathroom, the door opens and Laura's head pops in.

"Finn? Are you in here?" She stops in her tracks, eyeing me carefully. "Oh. There you are!" Her voice audibly darkens as she adds, "With Miss Dylan."

"Yep. Mommy, don't be mad at me!" Finn rushes towards her legs.

For a minute, Laura is kneeling before Finn as I was, assuring him that she could never, never ever ever, be mad at him. Not in a million years, she says.

It doesn't feel right, to stand there and watch, but she's blocked my only exit. I grab my phone and fiddle with it idly, waiting for her to budge out of the way.

She doesn't.

"It's the same for Uncle Luke," She tells Finn, standing, but still rubbing his back as he looks up at her. "But why don't you go find him and ask? So Mommy can talk to Miss Dylan?"

My whole body tenses. As she meets my eye, hard and unforgiving, I know it's not to chat about the coming week's drop-off schedule. My chin inches up stubbornly as I prepare, Finn's feet making soft sounds against the hardwood as he waddles away to find Luke.

When he's out of earshot, Laura lasers in on me. "In the future, I'd like it if you left parenting my son to me."

Parenting?

I scoff, shaking my head, "I wasn't parenting Finn." Even though maybe someone else should be, I think to myself, "I came to the bathroom and he was here. I just talked to him till he felt better."

"He's my son and that's my job. Next time, just come and get me."

"I was... coming to get you. Literally, as you walked through the door, that's where we were headed." I cross my arms over my chest, feeling both irritated and confused at once.

Is she jealous? Of her son's daycare provider? That can't be...

"Good." Laura looks me over disapprovingly. "Next time, skip the chit chat and get on with it, then, will you?"

Stunned, I nod.

"Actually..." Her dark eyes narrow at me. "It might be better if we just cut the chit-chatting out all together. Sound good to you?"

Again, I'm speechless, brain blanking as I try to find the right words.

He is her kid, after all. And it isn't my place.

But as she turns to leave, smug - like she's reprimanded a child for doing something they shouldn't, my anger flares.

I was just being nice. I've never been anything but nice to Laura or to Finn, and now she's forbidding me to talk with him? At all?

"What is your problem with me?" The words are out before I can stop them, before I can remind myself that this is her home I'm in, her cookout to kick me out of.

Still, when she turns, she has the nerve to seem amused. Brows raised, she repeats, "My problem with you?"

She searches my face and her expression is so disapproving, so disgusted, that my fists clench involuntarily. Then she looks away for a second and when she meets my eyes again, her face is unreadable.

"I know Casey was your brother, Dylan."

My ears burn hearing his name in her mouth, in that tone she's using, like I'm trash, like he's trash.

"But Luke is mine." She steps forward. "And since you had a brother... You know how I feel about mine, then."

We face off silently for less than a second, her - grilling me like I'm the worst person she's ever met, and me - using every ounce of willpower I have not to smack her across the face.

For her stupid dirty looks, her nasty comments since I've been back.

For fucking using the past tense.

"After how your family treated Luke..." She speaks again, "I can't even believe you're here right now. You should be ashamed."

Laura doesn't give me time to react, instead she gives me the most dismissive scowl I've ever seen and leaves the bathroom, politely closing the door behind her.

Leaving me there, a shaking mess of fury and confusion, clenching my fists so hard that my nails are breaking the skin, eyes clamped shut as I try to rein it all in.

What the fuck was she talking about? How my family treated Luke?

HA!

What about how Luke killed my brother?

I'm guilty as soon as I think it.

"Ugh!" I half shout, half grunt, rage crashing out of me as I slam my hand against the counter top, cracking my phone screen and probably bruising my fingers.

I stare in the mirror, my chest heaving.

"Okay, calm down." I tell myself again and again, doing my best to inhale deeply, to steady my shaking hands.

A commotion outside of the bathroom window catches my attention, a cacophony of raised voices greeting someone new ringing in my ears.

By the time I look outside, I don't get a clear view of whoever they're welcoming to the party.

Just a flash of long, flowing, fiery, red hair.

a longer chapter (for this book at least) this time!

we have some more to go before the end! another apology for being inconsistent with the updates but a reminder that I'm not a full-time writer and changes with the virus and all that have made my life busier than I used to be. It's taken time to adjust and takes time to get into the mental space to write and edit but I'm doing my best and I'll be doing better going forward