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Maggie picks up her coffee cup and wraps her hands around it, staring into it as though she can still see every decision she'd made reflected there.

"This time I started planning months before I walked out the door." I stay silent, letting her keep going. "I put cash aside whenever I could without him noticing. I made copies of Lucy's birth certificate, her medical records, anything I thought I might need, and hid them somewhere he'd never think to look." She swallows before lifting her eyes to mine. "Then I waited until I knew he'd be out of town for work."

Her fingers tighten around the cup.

"I kept telling myself that if I planned well enough, I'd finally make it far enough away that he couldn't pull me back."

I look at my sister and try to reconcile the woman sitting beside me with the one I've spent years judging from a distance.

How many phone calls did I rush through because I was busy? How many warning signs did I explain away? How many times did I assume she was making choices I didn't understand when she was fighting battles she never talked about?

The guilt hits hard enough that I drop my face into my hands. "Maggie..."

Before I can finish the thought, she catches my wrists and pulls my hands away. "Don't."

I look up.

Her eyes are red and swollen, and she's exhausted in a way that reaches far beyond missing sleep. "Don't do that to yourself."

A strained laugh escapes me. "You've just spent the last half hour telling me about years of abuse."

"And you're making that face."

"What face?"

"The one where you're about to adopt responsibility for every bad thing that's ever happened in the Pacific Northwest."

Despite everything, a tiny smile tugs at her mouth.

It feels achingly familiar.

I haven't seen it in years.

"You didn't know, Law." The nickname nearly undoes me again. "You couldn't have known."

Maybe she's right.

Maybe she isn't.

Either way, my sister is sitting beside me, crying through the worst story she's ever had to tell, and somehow she's still trying to make sure I'm okay.

"Don't."

"Maggie—"

"This isn't on you."

The conviction in her eyes makes my chest ache. "I should've been there."

She shrugs. "You couldn't have been."

"I should've called more. I should've paid attention."

"Law."

I shake my head. "I should've seen it. I'd still have shown up at your door if you needed help."

“But I didn’t call you.” Maggie closes her eyes briefly, then opens them again. "Because every other time I left, I ended up going back."