Page 9 of April Flowers

Noah didn’t let that deter him. “Why did you come to Nantucket?”

Avery went pale but kept up her smirk. “Why shouldn’t I have come to Nantucket?”

“I mean, I’m here,” Noah said. “Your uncle Noah. Your only family in the world. Is that why you came?”

Avery cackled. “No, stupid. I came here because I was born and raised here. I never wanted to move to Boston. You remember. That was Mom’s big idea.”

Noah did remember. He remembered July four years ago when his sister, Mona, met Greg at a beachside concert and fell madly in love with him. He remembered his sister calling him and saying, “I think I’m really going to be happy this time, Noah. I can’t believe it. Greg’s the one.” He hadn’t believed her. He hadn’t believed in “the one.” But not long after that, there he was, helping Avery and Mona pack up the truck and waving goodbye as they drove off to their brand-new life in the Boston suburbs.

He’d had a horrible feeling. But every time he’d brought it up to Mona, Mona said, “Stop being my protective older brother and let me live, dang it.”

He remembered where he was when Mona called to say Greg had hit her and thrown her and Avery out.

“I’m calling the police,” he’d told her.

“You are not,” Mona had barked. “I swear, if you call the cops, I will never talk to you again. We’re out of Greg’s life now. It’s over.”

“You have to come back to Nantucket,” Noah had said. “I mean, there’s nothing for you in Boston.”

“I have a job here. Avery’s going to school here,” Mona reminded him.

“You could get your old job back. Avery can go to school here.”

“No,” Mona had said over and over. “I’ve yanked her around too much as it is.”

And now here they were at the Nantucket Island Juvenile Detention Center.

Now, Mona was dead.

It took over an hour to get Avery out of there. There was paperwork to sign; there were difficult questions to answer. It wasn’t till seven that Avery was in front of Noah’s truck, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her backpack thrown in the back. Noah’s radio played old songs from the nineties that Avery thought were “stupid,” so he’d turned off the radio, and they sat in a strained silence.

“Are you going to tell me where you were?” Noah asked then, squeezing the steering wheel harder.

Avery coughed. “I’m here. I’m literally right here. What else matters?”

Noah didn’t have it in him to fight. He’d just lost his sister. He’d nearly lost his niece.

He felt broken.

The sky over his little house at the outer edge of Siasconset, the area where the multimillion-dollar houses stretched on glorious sun-drenched beaches, was a grayish purple that suggested it was going to rain. Noah parked in the garage but left the door open because he wanted to step out in the chill and breathe fresh air for a second. For hours, he’d been fighting a panic attack. Instead of joining him, Avery grabbed her bag and stomped inside.

From the driveway, Noah could see the ocean. It was a welcome relief, watching it froth in and churn back out, rollingin grays and blacks and greens. He’d been twenty-seven when he’d bought this house, and he was thirty-eight now, which meant he’d lived here ten years of his lonely life.

When Mona had died, he’d known he would have to make space in his house for Avery. But he hadn’t imagined it like this.

Noah went inside to find Avery in the fridge. In fact, she was so deeply entrenched, searching through drawers and behind milk cartons, that he could see nothing but her legs and the back of her head. Noah wanted a beer—badly—but he guessed that wasn’t the kind of thing he wanted to drink in front of a troubled teenager so soon after she got out of juvie. Had she been drinking? Had she been using drugs?

She’d been brought into juvie because she’d been caught sleeping in someone’s boathouse. Rich folks in Siasconset didn’t take kindly to strange teenagers using their expensive stuff. They’d locked her in the boathouse and called the cops. Noah guessed Avery had spewed enough insults their way to last a lifetime.

As teenagers, Mona and Noah had broken into a swanky boathouse, too. But they hadn’t gotten caught. They’d returned home before dawn, giggling madly, promising each other they wouldn’t tell a soul. Back then, Mona had been his best friend and confidant. When Noah’s life exploded, he’d turned to Mona for help.

Now, Mona was gone.

Noah had nobody.

Avery had nobody but Noah.

When Avery was in the fridge for longer than two minutes, Noah finally said, “Take whatever you want,” and made Avery jump. Emerging from within, she carried orange juice, yogurt, cheese, hot sauce, and mini sausages in her arms. She looked sheepish and starving.

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