Page 128 of Pull Me Under

I start walking before I can talk myself out of it. Up the hill, past the fish shack, toward home.

Home. The word still catches sometimes. It’s not mine, not really – it’s Dad’s cottage.

Lucky me.

The heating’s on, at least. Small mercies. The air is full of the smell of cooking – soup, maybe, or the ghost of soup. Dad’s been doing that lately. Starting meals and forgetting to finish them.

‘Dad?’ I call, toeing off my boots in the hallway. ‘You in?’

‘Kitchen.’

I find him at the table, staring at a crossword that looks untouched. The kettle’s boiled dry on the hob – I flick it off, biting back the lecture. No point. He’ll only get defensive, and I haven’t got the energy.

‘You eaten?’

He doesn’t look up. ‘Not hungry.’

‘Dad—’

‘I said I’m not hungry, Kit.’

I still.

Kit.

It’s happened again.

I should correct him. I don’t.

‘Right,’ I say, and my voice comes out flat. ‘I’m going to shower. There’s soup in the fridge if you change your mind.’

I’m halfway to the door when I stop. Maybe it’s the conversation with Cal, still rattling around my skull. Maybe it’s the thought of Brynn at that dinner table, being welcomed into a family that isn’t drowning in secrets.

Maybe I’m just tired of not knowing.

‘Dad.’

He grunts.

‘What actually happened? With the Trelawneys.’

The silence is immediate. Heavy. I watch his shoulders go rigid, his hand freezing over the crossword.

‘Ancient history,’ he says.

‘Brynn’s back. It’s not ancient to her.’

‘That girl has no business being here.’

‘She inherited her grandad’s cottage. She’s got as much business being here as anyone.’ I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. ‘So what happened? You and Walter were friends once – I remember that much. Then suddenly you weren’t, and they were gone, and no one would talk about it.’

Dad’s jaw tightens. That familiar stubbornness settling in like weather.

‘I was nine,’ I press. ‘Kit was twelve. Don’t you think we deserved to know why half the village stopped speaking to us?’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Because no one will bloody tell me!’