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Livia lets out a laugh. “You believed him for like a week, Chase.”

“I was seven!” He tries to defend himself and points at me. “And Ollie didn't correct me.”

“I was busy trying to stop you from throwing rocks at said pigeons.”

“Because they might've been government employees,” he mumbles.

For a few blocks, the conversation bounces from one memory to another, each one unlocking three more we'd forgotten we had. Funny how memory works. None of us remember the houses the same way. Or the social workers and the endless moves. Yet we all remember the ridiculous parts. The burnt marshmallows. The firecracker that singed a chunk of Chase’s hair off, and by some miracle, nothing else. Livia sobbing over a hot dog she’d dropped in the dirt before picking it back up and eating it anyway.

“We have to remember the five-second rule,” she defends herself.

“Liv,” I get out between my chuckles. “That thing was sitting there for at least a minute.”

She shrugs without a hint of shame. “I was hungry.”

“We were always hungry,” Chase comments from next to me.

The smile slips from my face. We were always hungry. Not just for food. For certainty. For someone who'd tuck us in and still be there when we woke up. For a place where unpacking didn't feel like tempting fate.

No one says anything for the next few steps. Then Chase bumps his shoulder against mine like earlier. “But we're not anymore.”

I glance at him. He's looking straight ahead, hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts, like he hasn't just said the simplest, most important thing I've heard all day. He’s right, though. For once, the past feels like something behind us instead of something we’re still trying to outrun.

The first firework cracks above the river, catching our full attention. Colors spill across the darkening sky, reflecting in Tilly’s wide eyes. She startles after a louder bang, her tiny body jerking against mine, but I rub her back and murmur soothing nonsense until she settles. Another firework blooms. Then another. People cheer around us. Tilly relaxes.

Chase tilts his head back, smiling widely. Livia watches the sky with tears on her cheeks and wonder on her face, the glittery stars of her headband bouncing every time she moves. In that moment, she looks young again. Not broken or lost. Just a sister watching fireworks with her brothers.

My phone buzzes again, and I pull it out with one hand, the other still on Tilly’s back.

Peyton: Watching fireworks from the beach. Thinking of you.

I look up at the sky as a burst of color spreads over Brooklyn.

Ollie: Watching them too. Thinking of you right back.

Peyton: Don’t forget to breathe, handsome. Life’s good.

I huff out a laugh, but do as she says. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Then I reply.

Ollie: It is

Peyton: *heart emoji*

Livia moves closer and leans against my shoulder as Chase reaches over to touch Tilly’s foot. Above us, fireworks keep blooming like the universe is trying to make a promise.

I know better than to trust promises too easily. Still, tonight, I let myself believe. We're going to be okay.

29

PEYTON

Muffled voices come through the closed door before I even reach the top of the stairs. Someone laughs, followed by one of Tilly's delighted squeals that has become so familiar over the past month, I would recognize it anywhere.

By the time I unlock the door and step inside, I already feel lighter than I did a minute ago. The drive back from the Hamptons gave me far too much time to think. I'm happy to be home, happier than I probably should be after only two nights away, but I can't stop wondering how the time with his siblings has been for Ollie. Having Livia back must feel like finally being able to exhale after holding his breath for weeks. Relief like that rarely comes without its own kind of exhaustion.

“There she is!” Chase announces from the couch. “Miss California returns.”

I laugh and set my overnight bag down. “I was wondering how long it'd take before someone called me that.”