Six months later, Jane answered another FaceTime call from Mom. She looked at the phone buzzing in her hand, and then reflexively glanced at the door to check that Matteo wasn’t around. Mom usually texted her before she called, and Jane considered letting it go to voicemail. Now that Mom knew Matteo had hit her, she’d called four times in the last six months to check up on Jane. She’d even asked if there was any way for Jane to leave him. That was ironic.

With a sigh, Jane swiped to answer. She might as well get it over with and tell Mom to butt out once and for all. But when Mom’s face came onto the screen, Jane forgot everything she was going to say. Because Mom’s face was bright red and splotchy, her nose swollen, eyes wet with tears.

“Are you okay?” Jane gasped. It still had the power to gut her, seeing her mom like this.

“It’s your father,” Mom said, her voice wobbling so much Jane could hardly understand her.

Jane stood up straight. “Did he hurt you?”

“No.” Mom held up a tissue, wiping her eyes and then blowing her nose. “He’s—your father is dead.”

Jane reeled backward, her calves hitting the couch. Slowly, she sank down into the cushions. She opened her mouth, but no words would come out. First came the shock, but it was followed by a feeling she couldn’t quite identify. A loosening of her shoulders, a heaviness lifting from her chest.

Oh God, it was relief.

Jane was relieved, and it was terrible, and true. Dad would never hurt Mom again. He’d never hurt anyone. She closed her eyes, and a long-buried memory came back to her. It had felt like time had slowed down with each jolt of the staircase hitting her body, leaving cracks and bruises on her skin and bones and somewhere deep inside her.

“Jane,” Mom said, her shoulders shaking with sobs. “I need you. I need help. Can you come for a visit?”

Jane’s breath caught. “You want me to… come home?”

Mom gave a teary nod. “Just for a little bit. You and Scarlett.”

Home. Jane turned that word over in her mind. She never thought she could go back. But it was safe now. Finally. And with that came another thought. A wonderful revelation, like a cool breeze blowing in off the Pacific Ocean.

Was this finally her chance to be free?

TWENTY-SIX

PRESENT DAY

As soon as Jane walked into Helen Andino’s home, she was surrounded by memories. The furniture had changed since she’d last set foot in the house, the shabby well-loved couch replaced by a newer, less sagging model, a coat of paint in pale cream on the walls. But the layout was exactly the same, and even with the scent of Christmas dinner roasting in the oven, Jane could still detect a faint hint of vanilla from Helen’s baking.

Nik strode down the hall with a smile. And that was familiar, too, the way his eyes used to light up when he swung the door open and found her standing on the welcome mat. She stepped inside and he reached for her, a quick hug to say hello and merry Christmas, and a spark ignited the moment her body pressed against his. She stepped back, just an inch, but couldn’t bring herself to move farther away. And, for a split second, it was just her and Nik in that familiar living room, the two of them on the couch under the window sharing a pair of headphones, the cord so short their shoulders bumped when they leaned in to choose another song from Nik’s old iPhone.

Behind her, Jane felt Mom and Scarlett step inside the house, and she quickly turned away to help Scarlett with her shoes. They made their way farther into the living room, and as Jane crossed in front of the fireplace, she realized the photos over the mantel were the same as she remembered, too. They were a timeline of Nik growing older: as a baby, a toddler, then a little boy. Jane was in some of those photos, the two of them grubby from playing in the creek behind the house, covered in flour after a failed attempt at baking brownies in Helen’s kitchen.

Did elementary-aged Nik resemble Scarlett in those old photos? And would anyone else notice? Jane wanted to examine each one, hold it up next to Scarlett to scan for similarities.

“Hello! Welcome!” called a voice from behind her, and Jane spun around to find Mrs. Andino wiping her hands on the apron tied around her midsection as she made her way from the kitchen. Her wide smile swept around the room until it settled on Scarlett. “Oh…this must be Scarlett.” Was it Jane’s imagination that Mrs. Andino froze for just a moment when her gaze landed on Scarlett’s face? Or was she just being paranoid?

“Yes, this is my granddaughter,” Mom said proudly, sliding an arm around the girl’s shoulder.

Was Scarlett Mrs. Andino’s granddaughter, too? Jane was starting to spiral now.

“Hi,” Scarlett said shyly, clutching Mom’s arm.

“It’s very nice to meet you.” Mrs. Andino blinked down at Scarlett, and something Jane couldn’t identify momentarily crossed her features. “Did you know I’ve known your mom since she was even younger than you?” She plucked one of the photos off the mantel. “See? You look just like her.” Mrs. Andino held up the image of Nik and Jane with their arms wrapped around each other, and Jane held her breath.

She finally exhaled when Mrs. Andino set the photo back on the mantel and turned to Jane, a welcoming smile on her face. “I’m so glad you could make it.” She crossed the room to wrap Jane in her familiar vanilla-scented embrace. “What a delight to get to see you twice in one week.”

Jane did her best to shake off her worries over Scarlett’s paternity. She didn’t know that Nik was Scarlett’s father. In fact, he probably wasn’t. But the more time she spent thinking about it, the more she wanted it to be true. Maybe a little part of her had been hoping that Mrs. Andino would grab that photo from the mantel and declare Scarlett a carbon copy of Nik. But the older woman was already making her way to the front door to swing it open for her next guests.

Hannah stood on the doorstep, stamping the snow from her boots and ushering Amelia inside. “Hi, everyone,” she said buoyantly, giving a wave as she tugged at the scarf around her neck. A tall, lanky man with blond hair and a wide grin followed close behind.

“You’re not at your parents’ today?” Jane asked around Hannah’s wild hair as her friend threw her arms around her. Had something happened to Hannah’s parents? She’d missed so much.

Thankfully, Hannah stepped back and gave her a wry grin. “My parents take a cruise in the Caribbean over the holidays. We come to Helen’s every year now. It’s tradition.” She tugged the man closer. “Ed, this is my old friend Jane.”