Page 196 of Catch the Sun

“I love you,” I say against her permed hair. “So much.”

“Love you most, sweetheart.”

I no longer question if she loves me most—more than the countless challenges life slung our way, or more than the faded memories of our past.

More than Jonah.

The warmth in her voice, the tender touch of her embrace, and the years of sacrifices and silent battles she fought for our family all affirm her love for me. Jonah may have stood at the forefront of her efforts at one time, as her way of clinging to control in a seemingly powerless situation, but in this moment, wrapped up in her arms, I feel the clarity in my mother’s words.

Ricardo hugs me next, telling me how proud he is, and Kai steals me away to spin me around and squeeze me hard, thanking me for seeing him all those years ago when no one else had.

Brynn had, though.

Brynn sees everyone, no matter how small, no matter how quiet, no matterhow shadowed and obscured.

It’s her Christopher Robin eyes.

And I see her, too—she’s unmissable, skipping toward me, a vision of hot-pink happiness.

“Ella!” she chirps, leaping at me with one of the luminous grins that have brightened my heart for years. “I’m so happy for you. Gah! Do you know what this means?”

I pull back from her hug, my cheeks streaked with tears. My eyes pan to her glittering engagement ring, showcasing a pear-shaped diamond, ringed with pale-pink stones. “What does it mean?”

“We’re basically sisters!” she squeals. “Just like I always knew we would be.”

I breathe out a charmed laugh.

In a way, she’s right.

Mom and Ricardo said “screw it” a few months ago and eloped to a private beach in Mexico to officialize their love. And by this time next year, Kai and Brynn will be married—making us, in a roundabout way, sisters.

Not that we need the title.

I recall standing on a similar bridge once, telling Max about a passage that’s often taken out of context: “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.”

As I look around at my chosen loved ones, I know the quote rings loud and true.

Max’s father sits in his wheelchair near the edge of the bridge with a nurse beside him, his eyes glazed and whimsical as he stares into the joyful chaos, hispeppery-thin hair fluttering in the breeze. I jog toward him, hiking up my dressas my sneakers slap across the bridge planks.

“Mr. Manning,” I call out, watching as he blinks slowly before his focus falls to me. “I’m so glad you could be here today.”

The nurse smiles pleasantly, stepping aside to allow us a moment.

“Hello, there,” Chuck says, a wide smile stretching as something like recognition fills his eyes. “Look at you. You remind me of my late love, Vivian.”

“Vivian?” I’m positive Max’s mother’s name was not Vivian. “Your wife?”

“Oh, no,” he murmurs, that glaze settling back into his gaze for a beat. “My wife left me willingly. Vivian never did.”

I move in closer, letting down my dress and squeezing the flower stems. “I’ve never heard you talk about her before.”

“Haven’t I?”

“I don’t think so,” I say.

He smiles fondly, lost in unseen reveries. “I only had her for one summer before the lake stole her away from me,” he says. “She had red hair, the color of cherries in late summer. She promised me we’d always be together…and I can’t help but wonder if she’s still waiting for me.”

Blinking slowly, I stare down at him, unsure of what to say. I don’t know if Vivian was real, or if she’s just a figment of his ailing mind…a hopeful promiseof better days.

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