“It’s why I keep him around.” I slip on the surprisingly cute booties that match the black sweater and faux leather leggings Declan bought me. Gotta love a man who can put food in his baby’s mouth and clothes on his woman’s body both at the same time. March isn’t the only one with many talents.

  “We gotta hit the road.” March bangs on the hood of the Chevy. “We’re only a half hour out. Sooner we get there, the better.”

  “Says you,” I gripe as I climb into the back seat.

  “It’ll be all good,” March promises. “The helicopter is picking us up at ten a.m. sharp. Then it’s straight to JFK where a private jet is whisking us away to England. Then it’s a scenic car ride through the British countryside on our way to Scotland.”

  “You make it sound so romantic.”

  “Under different circumstances, it would be.” March sighs dreamily.

  “And then after our European vacation, we come back and slaughter Ronan. It’ll be grand,” Declan rounds out the itinerary.

  Aisling suddenly breaks out in laughter and claps. “Fucker!”

  All eyes in the car land directly on her. “That’s my girl.” Declan raises his fist in the air, a proud papa.

  “We need to nip that language in the bud.”

  “She only speaks the truth. She’s insightful, like her daddy.” He grins and winks.

  “You two are so damn cute,” March pokes fun at us. “Like a fucked-up Ozzie and Harriet.”

  “Shut up and drive.” I don’t feed into his sarcasm at all.

  March curls his lip at me in the rearview mirror. “Testy bitch.”

  “Don’t forget it.'' I glare right into the reflection of his amber eyes before we both crack up laughing.

  I know that’s the last bit of comic relief I am going to get. ’Cause as we get closer and closer to my family’s estate, the more and more I withdraw into myself. There are so many crippling memories in that house. I swore I would never step foot inside it again. I swore I would never be weak enough to be his victim. That I would be strong enough to stop him from controlling me. Brave enough so he wouldn’t scare me.

  In reality, I know I am all those things. I also know he can’t hurt me anymore because I can kill him with one hand. But the memories that live inside me, that live inside my former home, they are very real. And very frightening, and very disturbing. They have the power to pass through reality and touch my subconscious.

  “Hey, you okay?” Declan asks with worry etched on his handsomely rugged face.

  “Fine, why?” I snap out of my internal tirade and concentrate on him.

  “Because your finger is bleeding.”

  “Huh?” I look down at my hands and realize I have chewed half the cuticle off my thumb. “Shit.” I stick my finger into my mouth and taste the tang of my own blood.

  “It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you.” He reaches back and touches my knee. I look down at the black clover tattooed on his hand before I touch it.

  “Tell that to my memories.”

  “It’s twenty-four hours, Fallon. You’re strong enough to hang in there for twenty-four hours. Try to look at the positive,” March tries to spin it.

  “What positive?”

  “You get to spend some time with Farrah. I know she’ll be happy to see you.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Girl, please. She’s going to lose it when you walk through that door.”

  “I should be staying far away from her.”

  “Says who?” March contests.

  “Says me. This whole thing just feels wrong.”

  “Well, you better get over that, ’cause here we go.” He turns onto a private road and stops at the gate. Really, it’s a mile long, tree-lined driveway leading to the estate.

  “Code?” he requests.

  “Six-two-seven-four-three.” I get a chill as I recite the numbers.

  March punches them in, and the gate slowly swings open.

  “Fancy,” Declan remarks.

  I growl in response.

  We drive down the curvy road surrounded by an acre of manicured lawn and bare, cherry blossom trees. When the house comes into view, my stomach begins to hurt. Being here is physically painful.

  “Lon–” Aisling reaches for me, and I take her soft, sweet little hand. It’s like she knows I’m in distress. Declan’s right. She is intuitive.

  “Thanks, baby.” I kiss her fingers, grateful for the comfort.

  “Ho-ly shit. This is where you grew up?” Declan leans forward, gawking through the windshield at the ostentatious, stone-and-siding chateau-like structure.

  “This would be it. Beautiful on the outside. A house of freaking horrors on the inside.”

  March parks in the courtyard. We all get out of the car, and when I stand, I am wobbly on my feet.

  “Hey.” Declan steadies me.

  “I’m fine,” I assure him, standing up tall. I can do this.

  With a deep breath, and confidence I find buried somewhere deep down inside, I walk up the stone steps.

  We don’t even get a chance to ring the doorbell before the front door is swinging open. “Fallon!” Farrah leaps into my arms and nearly knocks us both down the stairs.

  I’m stupefied for a second, but it quickly fades away as I hug my sister back, finding the surrealist comfort in her arms. “Hi.”

  She lets go and steps back, taking a good, long look at me. It’s as if she's in awe. The last time she saw me, she was only three years old.

  “I can't believe you’re here. Standing in front of me. I’m so excited. I’ve been waiting all morning. I made them put out an entire breakfast spread.” She drags me into the house talking a mile a minute. “I have so many things I want to ask you. So much we need to talk about.”

  “Jesus, Farrah, take a breath.” I smile at her. She is so beautiful. More so than the pictures I’ve seen online. Her hair is so long and golden blonde, and her blue eyes are so bright. So filled with excitement and a zest for life. I don’t know what comes over me. A sudden swell of uncontrollable emotion begins to choke me. I cough to cover it up. To pretend it isn't there.

  “Oh no, do you need some water?” Farrah is immediately attentive.

  “No,” I sniff, trying my fucking hardest not to burst into tears. “I’m fine. Just too much of Mommy’s perfume in the air.”

  “Yeah,” Farrah agrees, waving her hand in front of her face like pew. “She does love her Chanel No5.”

  “Some things never change.” I get caught up staring at her. I thought walking inside this house was going to destroy me, but with Farrah here, all those horrid memories don’t even seem to exist. It’s like she’s my shield.

  “Sorry.” Farrah has more manners than me at the moment and remembers our other guests. “Farrah,” she introduces herself. “Fallon’s sister.” She says it with such pride. I’ve always been ashamed of myself. I never wanted her to associate her familial relation with someone like me. Someone disgusting and broken. I never wanted to soil her image. But she doesn't seem to share my sentiments. That’s because she doesn't know, my shitty subconscious reminds me.

  And she never will, I promise myself.

  “I’m sorry.” I snap out of my haze. “This is Declan, March, and baby Aisling.”

  “I’m the boyfriend,” Declan declares. I roll my eyes.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  “I’m the best friend,” March identifies himself.

  “That’s true.”

  “And Aisling? Is she yours?” Farrah asks me, and I nearly break out in hysterics.

  “Ah, no,” I set the record straight real fast. “She’s Declan’s.”

  “But Aisling loves her like a mother,” Declan feels compelled to add that little tidbit.

  I purse my lips and glare at him. Not cool. I haven’t committed to being anyone’s mother. I’m barely recognizing Declan as my boyfriend. One thing at a time.

  “Aww, that’s so sweet. Did you guys meet in Africa?” Farrah is as equally nosey as she is confused. As far as she knew, I was off in some remote part of the world teaching young, third-world children how to read and write.

  “Africa?” Declan repeats. He has no freakin’ idea.

  “Ah, no. I’ve been back in the States for a little while. We met in New Orleans,” I explain on the fly.

  “How long?” She sounds hurt.

  “Just a few months. It was a love-at-first-sight kind of thing.” I roll on with the half-ass bullshit.

  “Oh, how romantic.” She leans in closer to me. “And oh, he’s really hot.”

  I can’t stop myself from smiling. “I know. You should see him with his shirt off,” I whisper.

  “Ahem.” March interrupts us with a beaming expression. “I’m all about girl talk, but can we do it over coffee? This queen needs his caffeine.”

  “Of course! How rude of me. This way. Everything is waiting.” Farrah leads us through the herringbone-floored foyer and into the morning room encased in windows. The room looks out over the expansive backyard and a breathtaking view of Long Island Sound. This was always my favorite part of the house. Especially in the summer, when we would open the walls to the terrace and sit outside all night.

  “This is amazing.” March is thoroughly impressed. It’s hard not to be.

  “I love it, too.” Farrah sits down to the beautifully set table. There is everything and anything you could want spread out in front of us. Pancakes, waffles, French toast, pastries, donuts.

  “You put Mrs. Shields to work, I see.”

  “Oh, she’s not here anymore.”

  “Oh no, what happened to her?”

  “Too old, I guess.” Farrah shrugs.

  “Mrs. Shields?” March asks.

  “She was our old chef.” Farrah loads her plate up with croissants and fruit-filled pastries.

  “Who’s the new cook?” I wonder aloud.

  “Some French guy named Ludo. He’s kind of rude. But an awesome chef.” Farrah takes a huge, indulgent bite of her croissant. “So good,” she talks with her mouthful. If our mother were here, she would be appalled.

  “Farrah?” I pour myself a cup of coffee as Declan balances Aisling on his knee. “Who told you we were coming?” I fish for details so we can keep this ruse going. March only made the phone call; we need to do the rest.

  “Ling. My nanny. She said Dad called. Sucks they aren’t here to see you. And actually, it kind of sucks that I still need a nanny. I’m almost sixteen years old. I can take care of myself. But Mom insists I still need parental supervision,” she whines, mocking her in a high-pitched voice. I get way more enjoyment out of it than I should. But I really hate that bitch.

  “She cares more about you than she ever did for me,” I scoff before realizing I let a little too much bitterness seep through that statement.

  Farrah regards me with a strange look. I don’t really know what my parents told her about me. I don’t know if they hate me and convey that, or if they just let lying dogs lie and take my absence for what it is. Up until now, like this second, I never really cared. But I love Farrah, and even if I never see her after today, I want her to have good memories of me. At least one good memory. I don’t want to be tainted in her mind. “Where is Ling now?” I quickly change the subject.

  “Probably tending to her garden in the conservatory. That’s where she usually is.” She licks the icing off her fingers from the pastry.

  “I’ll have to go introduce myself.” I peer at March over the brim of the dainty coffee cup.

  “Yeah, she’s cool. You’ll like her.” Farrah is completely clueless as she chomps away on her pastry. And I’m thankful for that. I had no idea what I was walking into coming here, and as far as I can tell, it’s as normal as normal can be. “So, Declan. What part of Ireland are you from?” Farrah sets her sights on him. I’m sure she’ll get to March eventually.

  “Belfast, originally,” he indulges her as he feeds Aisling pieces of pancake.

  “I love Belfast! We went to Ireland last summer. It was amazing. The people were so nice, and the countryside was beautiful.”

  “You speak the truth.” He seems pleased with her account.

  “Do you still have a lot of family there?” she continues with the questions.

  “Some. Two older sisters and some aunts and uncles. When my mum died, they shipped me off to America so I wouldn’t get caught up in the paramilitary. A bunch of good that did me.” He makes light, but Farrah definitely doesn’t get it. March and I, on the other hand, know exactly what he’s talking about. Aisling begins to get fussy, crying and whining and pulling at Dax’s ears. “Someone needs a nap.”

  “Oh.” Farrah stands. “I made up Fallon’s old room. You can put her down there.” She sounds so proud of herself. I feel bad she went through all the trouble. ’Cause you couldn’t pay me in a sack full of cut diamonds to step foot inside that bedroom.

  “That’s sweet, Farrah, but a guest room will be fine.”

  “You don't want to stay in your old room?”

  “No, we’re good. March can have it if he wants it. It’s got a great view of the Sound.” I try and sell it.

  “Lovely.” He’s not enthused about buying. He knows what went on in that room.

  “It’s a really nice room.” Farrah is completely in the dark. And that’s exactly where I’m going to keep her.

  “I’m sure it is, honey. I’ll be happy to sleep there,” he appeases her. I thank him with a sentimental look.

  Aisling screams, and Declan shoots to his feet. “Okay.” He throws her in the air. “Sanity time. Pray she goes down fast.”

  “You know that is not going to happen.” That child fights sleep like she’s slaying a dragon.

  “Say a Hail Mary for me.” He heads out of the room, carrying Aisling like she’s flying.

  “I don’t even think the Pope can help you,” I break the news. We hear Aisling scream all the way through the house.

  “Damn, that girl has some lungs on her.” March is Mr. Obvious.

  “She can definitely voice her opinion. Farrah used to be the same way. Screamed until she passed out.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, Mommy never told you?”

  “Not really. She doesn’t talk about the past much.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you. You were clingy and annoying.”

  “Fallon.” She throws a piece of croissant at me.

  I laugh harder than I have in a really long time. “I’m only telling the truth.”

  “I’m not clingy and annoying now. Now I’m popular and cool.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do. I’m the only sophomore nominated for Ice Princess at the winter formal tonight. Hmph.”

  “Oh, that’s so exciting. I bet you're gonna win.” March straightens in his chair.

  “Maybe. But I'm sort of out of the running now.”

  “Why?” we both ask.

  “Because I’m not going to the dance.”

  “Farrah, you have to go. You’ve been sending me pictures of dresses for weeks.”

  “I know, but you’re here for one night. I can’t leave.”

  A feeling of dread weighs me to the ground.

  “You have to go,” I encourage her.

  “No.” She crosses her arms and shakes her head before a lightbulb seems to go off. “You could come!”

  “What?” I’m horrified at the suggestion.

  “Yeah. I’ll just text the headmaster.” She whips out her phone from her pants pocket.

  “That’s a fabulous idea.” March bounces. “I’m coming too. I never miss a party.”

  “Hold on. You can text your headmaster?”

  “It'll be so much fun.” Farrah types away.

  “I don’t think it’s such a good idea.” No one is listening to me.

  “We get to dress up and dance.” March indulges her, shimmying in his seat.

  Farrah’s phone dings way too soon. “He said it’s fine, and he can't wait to meet you.” She’s ecstatic.

  Holy fuck, how did I lose control so fast?

  “I hope it’s not too late to get hair and makeup here. I canceled my appointments this morning.” She types away fast and furiously. “We’ll get you two something to wear, too. Oh, I know the perfect boutique to call. They have the best formal clothes. They’ll send some pieces over ASAP.”

  I look at March, ready to flip out. We can’t go to a dance!

  Farrah stands again. “Let me take care of all this. Oh my God, I’m so excited. This is going to be awesome.” She skips right out of the room.

  “What the fuck just happened?” I look at March, dumbfounded.

  “We’re hittin’ the town, baby, yuppy style.”

  I drop my head into my hand. “Fucking great.”

  “Did you know approximately thirty percent of the air pollution in San Francisco originates in China? And global warming is not only shrinking the polar icecaps, it is also shrinking the genitals of polar bears in east Greenland? Oh, and that disposable diapers take about five-hundred years to decompose?” Farrah rattles off environmental statistics as we sit in her en suite bathroom getting our makeup done. I think it’s her way of making small talk.

  “I didn’t know any of that. The polar bear genitals are particularly intriguing.”

  “I can’t wait to get out there and fight for our environment.”

  “You’re going to be a force.”

  “You think?”

  “I know. If you’re anything like me, you’re going to scare the hell out of people.”

  March snickers at the double entendre.

  “Yeah, that’s what I want. People to know when I walk into a room. I want to save the trees, and clean the water, and shrink the hole in the ozone layer.”

  “Single-handedly?” I’m being smart.

  “If I could, I would.”

  “You can do anything you put your mind to, honey,” March chimes in as he gets his eyebrows tweezed.

  “Start with your internship this summer. See what you learn there first. Then try to take over the world one step at a time. Eventually, you’ll walk all over everyone.”

  “Is that official big sister advice?”

  I peek at her out of one eye. “Yes.”