6. Meredith
MEREDITH
June’s hazel eyes widen with shock. “You’re going to just leave?”
“What do you expect me to do, June? I can’t put my life on hold any longer.”
Then her brows arch high, practically reaching her hairline. “Did you not hear him in there? Meredith, he said Dad killed himself.”
“I heard what he said!”
Suddenly, the shock in her expression vanishes, replaced by a look of indignation. Her stare becomes heated, the gold flecks around her pupils turning into blazing embers, and the lines between her brows grow deeper. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare tell me you believe him.”
At this point, all I can do is shrug, even though I know that will only further flame her ire. “I don’t know what to think, June. You have no idea what it’s been like. You’ve been away, painting your little heart out, and I’ve been stuck here?—”
“So that’s what this is? You’re jealous I’m at college?”
I shake my head with a sigh. “No. I’ve never said that.”
“Then, by all means, explain it to me. Because, from my perspective, you’ve let this manipulative, narcissistic, widow-grabbing loser into our family and seem perfectly happy to shove him into the gaping dad-sized hole left behind.”
I groan and drop my head into my hands, pulling at the roots of my hair with my fists in a vain attempt to maintain at least some control of my reaction before I lash out. “That’s not what happened, June.”
“Then how can you leave? Now? How can you leave Sophie behind?”
June 2025
“Morning, baby. Do you want an omelet?”
I blink a few times to clear the blur from my eyes.
I’ve been up since six, staring at the cracked ceiling of my old bedroom as I tried to meditate away some of my anxiety.
Whatever small relief I got is instantly undone when I see the familiar scene in the kitchen—Mom fussing over the stove, plates of fresh food steaming on the counter, Richard in my dad’s old seat, and Sophie pacing in the next room on the phone.
Only the phone is cordless now.
“Yeah, that would be great.” I stare down at Richard at the kitchen table.
He throws me a disapproving glance over the newspaper. “You’re up late.”
I grit my teeth, biting back a childish defense. “We’re heading to the Shack later. Is there anything you want us to move over?”
Mom turns around to hand me a plate of food. “I have some of the chair pads in June’s old room. I was going to try and fix them up over the winter, but?—”
“It would be cheaper to just replace them,” Richard finishes for her. “Everything in there needs replacing.”
“We’re working on an itinerary to get it all fixed up,” I respond as diplomatically as I can.
After Eddie’s impromptu visit yesterday—one where he refused to acknowledge me beyond his initial greeting—I called around to get a few quotes, and June claimed she’d do the same.
But we wouldn’t be able to tell the true extent of the work until we get the place cleaned out, which was, unfortunately, today’s job.
“I guess being a lawyer means you have money to throw down the drain,” Richard grumbles from behind the open newspaper, as if that would keep me from hearing. Either that, or he intended for me to hear but didn’t care enough to watch the reaction it would cause.
I stand up from the table quickly, no longer hungry. “I’m going to take a walk.”
Mom’s face is unfairly distraught. “Baby, come on.”
“I’m just making conversation, Meredith.” Richard’s exasperation is grating, to say the least.
“No, you’re throwing assumptions at me,” I respond numbly. “Perhaps try being less passive-aggressive next time, and I’ll consider making it through breakfast.”
I don’t wait for his response. I grab my shoes by the door, yanking them on, already picturing the open stretch of Wauwinet Beach. Fresh air. A little space. Just enough distance to?—
“Sweetheart, listen to me.” Sophie’s voice cuts through the corridor, low and urgent, causing me to freeze, my pulse kicking up. “It’s not for long,” she says. A pause. Then sharper, “Trent, stop it, okay?”
I shouldn’t be listening. I don’t want to listen. But I do.
“There are just a few things I need to— No, don’t do that. Just stay put, all right? I’ll call you soon.”
I try to slip out the door before she notices. But at the last second, I glance back.
Sophie’s dark eyes meet mine, and I’m completely busted. Her posture stiffens, surprise giving way to a guarded expression. She doesn’t break eye contact as she murmurs her goodbyes. “Yeah? I love you, too.”
The words land like a fist to the ribs.
“Sorry,” I blurt. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was just going for a walk.”
Sophie crosses her arms, her brows knitted. “I didn’t know you were up.”
“Yeah, well…” My eyes flick toward the kitchen, where Mom and Richard are speaking in hushed tones.
Sophie looks, too. And for the first time, her defensiveness falters, hesitancy slipping in.
Impulse makes me say it. “You wanna come with me?”
The sand is colder than I expected. The Atlantic stretches out before us, a muted silver under the soft morning light, with the waves rolling in in a gentle rhythm, smoothing the silence between Sophie and me.
I don’t know why I thought it would be different, that something would have changed. But the beach is exactly as I left it—the same endless stretch of dune grass and weathered driftwood, the same salt-heavy air that stings the inside of my nose.
However, the ache in my chest is new.
Sophie walks a few steps ahead, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the horizon. She’s always walked faster than me. Or maybe I’ve just always been the one lagging behind.
“I saw you, you know. In that pizza ad?” I break the silence as I hurry to catch up to her.
“Yeah?”
I nod and try to smile. “You looked good. I mean, you did a good job.”
She shrugs, not caring to look at me. “It paid the bills.”
We carry on a little farther. She kicks a piece of shell with the toe of her sneaker. It skitters across the ground, spinning before it lands, half-buried in the sand.
I try again. “So, Hollywood treating you okay?”
Sophie exhales sharply, an almost-laugh, but there’s nothing amused about it. “You don’t have to do this, Mer. It’s okay.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You don’t have to pretend to be interested in my life.” She finally looks at me, her gaze unwavering. “I’m not fourteen anymore, you know that, right?”
“Yes, of course?—”
“You don’t know me. Not as an adult. You have no idea what I’ve been through, who my friends are, or where I live.
You never called to check in or wish me a happy birthday or invite me to your wedding.
” Her voice is even, but there’s something brittle underneath.
“I’m not going to explode on you like June, but I won’t stand here and pretend that didn’t hurt.
That you left and said you’d call, but you never did. ”
A lump rises in my throat. “I’m sorry.”
Sophie halts her long strides and tilts her head, turning to me. “Are you?”
I swallow hard, but the lump doesn’t budge. “I have a lot of explanations, but they’ll just sound like excuses.”
“Try me.”
I turn to look out at the horizon, at the churning gray-blue of the water.
It could be five, ten, or fifteen years ago.
Nothing has changed. I could go back to the beach house and smack my dad around the back of the head for falling asleep on the couch.
I could argue with June over who gets to drive the Jeep.
I could steal the phone to plug it into my room so that I’m the first to answer when Eddie calls.
The nostalgia washes over me, offering me relief from the harder memories that escape my lips. “Those weeks after the funeral, after June left, were bad. I know you remember; I know you probably saw more than I ever gave you credit for, but I wanted to protect you from it as much as I could.”
“Honestly, it still feels like a dream. Or a nightmare, I guess,” Sophie says quietly. “I remember just floating along for a while. I don’t think I knew how to process it.”
I nod knowingly. “Mom wouldn’t get out of bed.
I was left to deal with everything. Which was fine to begin with, I liked the distraction of cooking and making sure you got to school on time, and even sorting through Dad’s things.
But then the bills started piling up, and I had to reopen the Shack on my own and…
” My throat tightens. “Everywhere I looked was just him. I couldn’t shuck a clam without having a breakdown.
It was torture going there every day, imagining him bursting out of the kitchen, yelling at Roland or June or calling us his greatest treasures. ”
Sophie lets out a soft breath. “We should probably look for it.”
I regard her curiously. “For what?”
“His treasure chest. You know, the one he said he had buried out in Wauwinet?”
I huff out a small, surprised laugh. “Might help us fix up the Shack.”
Sophie’s lips curl into a faint smile, but it fades quickly.
“I saw my entire life flash before my eyes,” I admit.
“Filling Dad’s shoes, running the Shack, looking after Mom.
Marrying Eddie, moving into a house down the road.
The same routines over and over and over, and I just…
panicked. That was never supposed to be the plan, and I felt so unbearably trapped. ”
“I don’t blame you for that. You know that, right?”
I turn to her, surprised by her certainty. “I mean, I did leave you here. With Richard.”
“You did.”
I force myself to hold her gaze, even as my stomach twists.
“But I left, too. The week after I graduated. Maybe I was bitter about you leaving at first, but I barely understood what was happening to begin with. It was a bad situation for all of us. If anyone could understand how painful it was to stay, it’s me, Mer.”
Her words hit me harder than I expected.
“What hurt more is that you never tried to contact me again,” she continues. “It was like I didn’t have a sister anymore. You just cut us all out, as if none of this ever existed.”
I close my eyes briefly and pull in a long breath before releasing it through my dry lips. “I was going to call. The week of my wedding, I almost called a thousand times. I couldn’t imagine ever walking down the aisle without you.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“I was a coward, Sophie.” My voice comes out barely above a whisper.
“At some point, it became easier to pretend it never happened than to live with the pain of reality. I dealt with the guilt and shame of that every day, convinced myself that it made me broken, and that you were all better off without me.” I can’t help the self-deprecating smile that spreads across my face.
That’s what Mark had said, anyway. “Besides, it had been so long by that point that I thought you’d just laugh at me for asking. Too little, too late, you know?”
Sophie crosses her arms, looking down at the sand. Her blond hair blew in front of her face, momentarily obscuring her from view. “I would have come. If you’d asked, I would have been there.”
My chest tightens. “You were always the best of us.”
“Only because you guys raised me that way.” She nudges my foot lightly with her own.
Seagulls circle overhead, their cries sharp and hollow, drifting over the endless gray water. The strong scent of salt thickens the air between us, heavy with all the things left unsaid—or the things that should have been said a long time ago.
“I’m so sorry, Sophie,” I say, my voice breathless. “I don’t want you to forgive me, not when I’ve missed so much of your life.”
Sophie shakes her head. “Then what’s the point of wasting more time on being angry?
I’ve been angry, Mer. I’ve been sad; I’ve been in denial.
I’ve already gone through all that, fifteen years of it.
Now I realize there are more important things.
If you’re truly sorry and genuinely want to rebuild bridges, then I’m willing to meet you halfway. ”
I blink, overwhelmed. “Can I… Can I hug you?”
She eyes me, then smirks as she opens her arms. I accept them gratefully. Burying my head into the crook of her shoulder, I inhale her still familiar scent a little too eagerly. The beating of my heart echoes the broken word “home” over and over.
“You’re such a softie still. Even in your fancy new clothes.” Sophie’s voice is half-muffled in my hair.
“They’re not that fancy.”
She giggles. “They don’t smell like fish.”
A burst of laughter escapes my throat before I can stop it. Then, moments later, Sophie imitates the sound, pulling away to grin at me. Before long, we’re both clutching our sides, laughter shaking loose years of tension.
I’m wiping away tears by the time I straighten up again. “Let’s head back. Richard should be gone by now.”
She nods, and we walk toward the house together. Suddenly, the sun feels a little warmer, and the wind is less harsh. Sophie’s arm brushes against mine carelessly, and she doesn’t rush ahead.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt so fond of someone before.
“So, who was that on the phone earlier?” I keep my tone light and teasing.
The response is immediate and clipped. “No one.”
I raise an eyebrow, but things between us are still too fragile to push. Instead, I focus on climbing the porch steps.
“It’s complicated,” she finally admits.
“Not a boyfriend, then?”
“Definitely not a boyfriend.” Sophie blanches so quickly that I almost believe her.
“Everything just happened so fast, and I had to leave without much warning.” She pauses, then throws the conversation back at me.
“What about you? Is Mark okay with you being out here? You manage to get time off work?”
My stomach twists. I take my time kicking off my shoes before stepping into the kitchen. “Yeah, actually, there’s something I need to?—”
“Mom?” Sophie interrupts as she walks in first.
Eleanor stands at the stove, flipping something in a pan. She glances back with a warm smile. “Hey, baby. I was just making breakfast.”
Sophie hesitates. “Were you expecting someone?”
Mom smiles, playfully rolling her eyes. “No, it’s for you, silly.”
Sophie and I exchange a look.
“Mom, we already ate,” I say gently.
There’s a flicker of something unreadable in her expression before she spots me, startled.
Her face shifts, like she’s catching up to the moment. “Oh, Meredith,” she breathes out, blinking fast. Then the too-bright smile returns. “Of course. Must have slipped my mind.”
Sophie breaks the odd silence with a quick, easy grin. “We’ll take it with us to the Shack. June might be hungry.” She moves to grab some Tupperware as Mom drifts away from the stove, slow and quiet.
Her smile fades with every step.