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Iswallowed the lump in my throat that was making it impossible to breathe or push a word past my lips. I just stood there and watched my family, whom I thought I’d never see again.

The twins—my youngest siblings, Noah and Addison—had already gotten their paws on one of the decorative vases, and the poor artifact wobbled precariously on its stand.

“You two…” Mom warned, her voice carrying that familiar edge that meant they were dangerously close to being in trouble. She reached out and caught Noah by the hand before he could make another move. “Behave, or you’ll be in timeout for the entirety of our trip.”

Noah looked up at her, utterly unimpressed. God, he’d grown so much.

He was nine now.

And apparently, he was just as much of a troublemaker who couldn’t sit still as he was as a toddler.

“I’m not doing anything,” he protested, his innocent expression doing absolutely nothing to convince anyone. “It’s her.”

He shamelessly pointed a finger at his twin.

“It’s his fault!” Addison immediately shouted.

“No it’s not!”

“Yes it is!”

“You touched it first!”

“You pushed me!”

“I did not!”

“Both of you, stop it.” Dad’s voice cut through their argument and both fell silent. “Listen to your mother. Or the timeout will be for the rest of your lives.”

Both twins immediately pouted.

Some things, apparently, hadn’t changed.

My gaze drifted past them and landed on my sisters.

Saoirse and Sierra stood beside Kristoff, both of them watching the twins—one with amusement and the other with annoyance. Sierra held tightly to Kristoff’s hand, something she’d done since he came into our lives, while Saoirse stood beside them with her arms folded, looking far too mature for the little sister I remembered.

God, they’d both grown so much.

Sierra was eleven now.

She had been so little the last time I saw her. She’d been all scraped knees, messy hair, missing teeth, and endless questions. She used to follow me around everywhere.

Now she was standing there with her fingers wrapped around Kristoff’s hand, her baby-blue eyes wide as they landed on me.

And Saoirse was fourteen now.

She was nearly as tall as Mom, her dark hair thick and cascading down her shoulders. I almost wouldn’t have recognized her.

All my siblings had grown up without me. I’d missed so much.

My throat tightened, and I let out a shuddering breath.

Mom looked up, and her eyes met mine. Her gaze flickered over my face, searching every inch of it.

“Sienna,” she breathed.

“Hi, Mom,” I croaked.