Page 176 of Pull Me Under

‘Shut up.’

‘I mean it as a compliment.’

‘Shut up anyway.’

She grins. Unfolds herself from the bed and pulls me into a hug – fierce, tight, a hug I’m not used to receiving. The kind I didn’t know I needed.

‘You’re coming back,’ she says into my shoulder. ‘Promise me. Whatever happens, you’re coming back to visit.’

‘I promise.’

‘And you’ll call. Not just text – actually call. I want to hear your voice.’

‘Okay.’

‘And if he breaks your heart again, I’m driving to Cornwall and I’m going to⁠—’

‘Lily.’

‘I’m serious. I’ve got nineteen years of sisterly protection to make up for.’

I laugh. It comes out wet, tangled with something that might be tears if I let it.

‘I’ll be fine,’ I say.

‘You’d better be.’

She pulls back. Looks at me with those grey-green eyes – our father’s eyes – and for a moment I see everything we could have had. All those years of shared bedrooms and borrowed clothes and fighting over the bathroom mirror. All those years of having someone who understood.

We can’t get them back. But maybe we can build something new.

‘I’ll call you when I get there,’ I say. ‘Let you know I’m okay.’

‘You’d better. And I expect a full Snapchat tour of this famous boat shed. It’s the only acceptable form of communication, apparently.’

I turn back to the bag. Zip it the rest of the way.

‘Brynn?’

‘Yeah?’

‘For what it’s worth – I think he’d be an idiot not to come after you.’

I don’t answer. Just pick up the bag and head for the stairs.

Helen’s in the kitchen when I come down. Standing at the sink, looking out at the garden, hands wrapped around a mug of tea that’s probably gone cold.

‘You’re going,’ she says without turning around.

‘I have to.’

‘I know.’ She turns then. Her eyes are red-rimmed but her voice is steady. ‘I’ve spent twenty years waiting for people to come back. I’m not going to ask you to stay if staying isn’t right.’

I set my bag down by the door.

‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘For everything. For letting me into your home. For telling me about my father. For⁠—’

‘You’re family.’ Helen crosses to me, takes my hands in hers. ‘You don’t have to thank family.’