After spending the last two weeks in Oregon with my aunt and uncle, I find myself standing outside the bustling Boston airport. The time away was necessary to heal my busted face before making a jump into a travel nursing gig. The contract is longer than I’d like. When my recruiter called me with an offer at a large hospital that pays generously in a big city, I couldn’t help but say yes.

I’ve never been to Boston, or anywhere like it for that matter, but the idea of the city seems…comforting. Hoping I’ll somehow get lost in the city, my face morphing into just another one in the crowds, that way he can’t find me.

If he’s still alive.

I’m as far away from him as I can be without leaving the continent. It’s something new and somewhere he will never expect me to go. Somewhere I never expected to go.

As soon as I step outside, I’m hit with the frigid morning air, reminding me I am not acclimated to this type of weather at all. I’ll have to do some shopping to keep myself from freezing, considering all I have is the backpack over my shoulder.

As the driver takes me through the city, I breathe a little easier while I watch the array of red brick and greenery pass by.

As far as I’m concerned, my parents haven’t seen or heard from him since the day I left. No one has. The comfort and fear of it settles deep in me. He can either be long gone or trailing me right now. Or dead.

The police don’t have any leads, especially since he has no family or friends, either. He has no strings attached except to me. Another reason I stayed for so long – I was his only family.

Despite practically begging on my hands and knees for my parents to not send me off, they knew better than that. Clearly I wasn’t in the right mental state to make decisions, which is why ultimately, I listened and ended up leaving them behind, unaware of where he is and when I can come back.

I think back to all the signs I missed that seem so obviously clear now. When the good days happened, they were so good. I clung to those days desperately, letting them serve as relief for the hard ones.

It never started that way, and it’d never gotten to the point of physicality until the day I left. That was another justification I used, too.

Swallowing hard, I take in the city before me. At least he gave me the push I needed to finally leave. Because looking back, I know I wouldn’t have if we stayed together.

He wouldn’t have let me.

I look at the checklist on my phone, noting the busy day I have tomorrow despite my fatigue.

Two weeks is a lot of time to spend in your own mind, so I need to find a distraction where I can. Being in my own mind is too dangerous right now.

TYLER

Our morning ritual stays the same with myself, Sam and Anthony walking to work together without Cole. As head of security, he has earlier mornings than the rest of us. More often than not, he takes the truck we built together in college to beat rush hour while the rest of us walk to work.

“Let’s stop and get some coffee!” Sam skips toward the doors of a little coffee shop owned by an older lady named Betty, to which she named Betty’s Beans.

It’s a place we frequent probably too much, but Betty smiles every time she sees us there. Somehow that little old lady’s smile is what keeps bringing me back.

“I made coffee at home. Why didn’t you just have some there?” I ask, following my sister inside.

“Tyler, your coffee is good, but you rarely ever make lattes. A girl can only drink black coffee for so long. I want my basic white bitch fufu lattes and Frappuccinos.”

Anthony’s golden eyes trail her path as he watches in admiration. I know he’s in love with her, despite all his efforts to deny it.

He has the best intentions and just like me and Sam, tries his best to not let the thumb of his parents push him down too hard. They’re part of the elite in our society as well, creating a pressure on him we all feel.

Sam isn’t oblivious to his feelings, but her own towards Cole makes for a good distraction from it. If it’s not Cole, then Sam wants fun, not commitment.

Sam doesn’t love based on gender. She’s a very fluid person and isn’t guarded or particular the way I am.

Obviously I’ve fucked and dated in my twenty-nine years, but as heir to the Caddell Investment Firm, I’m expected to marry based off of my parents choice. I’m not allowed to commit to anyone unless it’s to Shelby. I just haven’t fucking found it in me to do so yet.

It’s a storm looming over my head while I bide my time until the torrential downpour of it all.

I’m basically the foundation of reputation for the future of the company. While I don’t care, my father, Mitchell, does. Appeasing him makes my life easier than it does going against him. After all, I’m next in line to take hold of those puppet strings. The world of the rich is a game, and my father is trying to make me the best there is.

He is the puppet master, and they are all his puppets.

“Careful man, if you look too hard you might undress her.” I slap Anthony’s back as I walk into the coffee shop. “And that’s something I don’t want to witness.” His light brown skin burns with embarrassment at my comment.

We’re greeted on a first name basis by the baristas behind the coffee bar. Thankfully the last name has been ditched. Almost anything successful in the city is because of the Caddell name. It makes it easier for people wanting to cling to it for success.

As an investment and wealth firm, we have a string attached to almost any business you can name. It’s how we control the world around us. From something as small as investing in restaurants to political campaigns, we’ve somehow managed to climb to the top over generations of Caddell men.

Sam and Anthony put their orders in while I sit on a couch waiting for them and scroll through my work emails. Every so often I casually glance around the shop. It’s a force of habit—needing to always be aware of my surroundings. I may have a powerful name, but that also means powerful enemies, too.

The floor to ceiling windows are open, letting in the cool air that breezes from the waterfront not too far away. Despite the old red brick architecture, it still screams modern day with the ropey green plants and rickety couches people lounge on.

“Would you like anything Tyler?” The barista asks.

I give her a smile. “No thank you.”

“He’s a coffee snob,” Sam scoffs.

I roll my eyes. “Ignore my sister, she is a snob.”

Sam sticks her tongue out at me and turns back to the barista.

A few tense minutes pass as the barista eyes me and talks with her coworker, giggling with each comment they exchange. Their occasional looks don’t go unnoticed where the three of us wait.

“Typical. Tyler gets hit on wherever he goes,” Anthony groans.

“Even more typical, Tyler will deny it or deny any passes they make at him and avoid getting a date or laid.” Sam pokes.

I flick my eyes to my sister who sits across from me. It’s not that I’m not interested in dating again, it’s just that I’m enjoying my time alone after everything that happened with Shelby. I didn’t love her, but I am exhausted after her. The idea of starting anything back up just seems too draining. Plus, I’m arranged to Shelby. I can’t be seen with someone who isn’t her until I decide what to do with her.

I have my plan, it’s just a matter of going about it. I have to be meticulous, precise. Manipulate the situation to seem like it benefits those around me more than myself.

At one point, I was willing to go through with the arrangement. Things have changed, and while I may not have full freedom, I do have power. I’m willing to use it, it’s just a matter of how.

“Prove me wrong, then,” Sam challenges.

My eyes flick back to my phone to go over all the emails I already read, ignoring her.

“See,” Sam says with her hands in the air as she leans back into the couch.

Their names are called for their drinks. Thank god.

“Thanks!” Sam yells as we walk out.

“Tyler!” The giggly barista calls. She jogs toward me with a bag. “It’s on the house.” She smiles, her cheeks turning red.

Looking down at her, I take the bag from her. I can’t deny that she’s cute. Matching chocolate brown hair and eyes. Her smile is kind. But I am not.

“Thank you.” I peer into the bag, seeing a bagel with cream cheese.

“A hard working man needs to eat.”

I rub the back of my neck, say my thank you again and head for the exit. As I walk out of the shop, I notice she wrote her name and phone number on the bag, complemented with a bunch of doodle hearts. Fucking doodle hearts.

“My man!” Anthony steals the bag from my hands, examining the name and number on there. “Cassidy.”

Walking over to see what all the commotion is about, Sam rolls her eyes and scoffs.

“She was super cute, too. You should definitely follow up with that.” Anthony wraps his arm around my shoulders, taking a bite of half of the bagel.

“How about you call her?” I hand him the bag.

He rolls his eyes at me and I laugh, because I know neither of us will call her.

Sam steals the bag from his hand. “Your loss. She’s mine now.”

SUNNY

Nestled into the plush hotel bed, my tired bones start to relax as I scroll through my email about my contract here.

It’s going to be completely different from my small town hospital, but the change feels necessary. I’d been comfortable in that hospital for my two years as a nurse. Prior to that my other years as a CNA.

I was twenty-five when I graduated with my RN, now twenty-seven with a handful of experience. Nothing like what a metro area would provide, but I’m a quick learner. I’m ready for the pace.

As I scroll, I find the email showing my orientation date. My heart drops. It’s been moved to tomorrow. Are you kidding me?

I sit up and look around, realizing I barely have anything. Not even a place to live. Originally, I had at least an entire week to get myself settled before orientation. Why the hell did they move it?

Swallowing hard, I grab my phone to fulfill the promise of calling my parents. It’s still really early in Boston, which means it’ll be even earlier in California, but I know they’ll already be tending to the garden and the chickens, getting ready for deliveries produced by the garden.

“Hi honey!” My mother chimes. Her big, blue–green eyes are wide with excitement. The eyes I inherited.

Looking at my round-eyed mother on the screen, my heart squeezes in my chest knowing she’s so far away. I’m so lucky to have such a good relationship with my parents. Most people aren’t as fortunate as I am.

I’m so sorry I had to leave you guys the way I did.

“Hey, mom. I made it safe and sound.” I force a smile. I find it hard to do most days, but for them I will.

“She made it, honey!” Mom yells to my dad.

He approaches the screen, the curls of his dirty blonde hair flecked with salt and pepper falling over his forehead, just like the full mustache that sits on his upper lip. A Tom Selleck stash that my father is very proud of. His glasses sit on his long, strong nose as he looks at me through them.

“There is our girl,” he says with a wide smile.

Feeling tears sting my eyes, I try and swallow down the knot forming in my throat. I have to keep my composure. I can’t let them see me break more than I already have. It’s torn them apart, I can’t be responsible for more bloodshed.

I just miss you both so much already.

“Hey, dad,” my voice slightly catches. “Have you…heard anything?”

“No sweetie. The police have been all over it, but it looks like Ryan fled town,”

Or is dead. I swallow hard, trying to ignore that pestering voice. Murderer. It whispers. Stalking you. I suck in a breath as I double check the lock on the hotel door while all the what-if’s fester in my mind.

“But sweetie, there is no way he knows where you are. He probably left town like a little coward because he knew he would go to jail. I don’t think we have to worry about him.” My father tries to comfort me, seeing my eyes bounce around the room.

I know that isn’t true, because of course I have to worry about him. It’s why I’m here in Boston in the first place.

Sadness was rarely an emotion I felt. I was always, well, Sunny. But the years of Ryan wore me down, and the day I left was the day that part of me no longer seemed to exist.

Parts of me died because of him.

I know I’ll never get those parts of myself back, but sometimes, I find her in my dreams, trying to cling to who I was. Those nights are far worse than my dreams about him, knowing I’ll never get her back.

I will never be who I should’ve been.

“I’m just so sorry,” I breathe into a cry.

I’m sorry for a lot of things. In a matter of a few hours, years of mistakes obliterated in my face, taking down everyone around me. But mostly, I’m sorry for having to leave them, their once whole girl now fragments of who she used to be.

“Sweetie,” my mom coos. “Don’t you ever apologize. This is not your fault at all. Listen, we are safe, he is gone right now. We are okay, you are okay, and we will catch him. That’s all that matters.”

“And,” my father chimes. “You got a badass traveling gig!”

Here I am, twenty-seven years old, crying to my parents about a boy who broke me. Because he isn’t a man. A man would never do what he did to me.

“We are just so proud of you, Sunny. You are achieving your dreams. You always wanted to be a travel nurse, and now you’re doing it! You are making things happen,” my mother says.

God I just adore my parents.

They have given me such a beautiful example of what love should be like. Hopefully one day I’ll come to learn what that feels like instead of just what it looks like.

I swipe my runny nose with my sleeve. “I really love you guys.”

“We love you too, Sunny girl.” My father smiles.

“I know it’s only been a few hours, but, how about you tell us about the city, when you start your job, all the things!?” My mother asks.

Smiling at my parents through the phone screen, I tell them all about it as I schedule apartment viewings for that day.

Maybe it will be okay.

TYLER

“Don’t forget, we have our dinner with mom and dad tonight,” Sam says as I rummage through a stack of paperwork while she lounges on the chair in front of my desk, snacking on carrot sticks.

I clench my jaw at the words. “How could I forget?”

My office is large, with panoramic windows overlooking the city and water, graced with plants from Sam. Stacked with a full bar and couches for clients that she uses more often than not.

“How the hell did we end up in this kind of family?” Sam asks, noting my gaze peering around the office.

“I ask myself that every day.” The mayor of the city is hosting a campaign at one of the local breweries. As investors to the brewery and the campaign, we are obligated to go. I’m trying to find the contract that has the list of details they want for it.

My father’s plan is to move up the political chain, and that’s exactly what he’s doing. Hence my arranged marriage with the daughter of the current governor. The puppet master doing his best work. It’s what investors are notorious for, and how we own politicians.

“I’m betting a coffee tomorrow morning that they’ll bring up Shelby tonight. Oh, and that they will try and bring up a good suitor,” she signs with her hands. “for me to marry.”

I set the papers down. “You’re on. I’m betting that she will ask me as soon as I walk through the door.”

“No. Mom will definitely ease her way into it so that when she does come off as nosy and annoying, she’ll try and claim that she wasn’t.” She plays with a strand of pink hair.

We keep our lives as far as possible from that lifestyle. We were forced to deal with it growing up, but when we both turned eighteen and went to college, we tried to create as much distance between ourselves and our parents. Save for working in the same company. But it’s not like we really had a say in the matter.

Caddell is large so we barely see them as it is. The headquarters is in Boston as the heart of the company, beating life into seedy satellite offices across the nation. My father gave the bulk of the work to me here while he travels frequently to manage our other campuses and contracts.

I make my appearance on those trips if he needs me for my abilities. While I may be heir to the Caddell fortune, I’ve become Mitchell’s personal cleaner. It’s easier to groom your son into doing your dirty work versus having a hitman on payroll and risk everything. Blood runs thick, but certainly not as thick as a payroll.

Thus, resulting in my becoming my fathers personal hitman. He needed someone in the family he could control. His own adjuster to ensure the necessary people are taken out to reach his business and political gains.

Aside from that, we never see them which lead to every other week family dinners. Our mother tries to push for weekly, but that’s something we just can’t commit to.

We save a weekly dinner slot for the family we made for ourselves. Every week one person from our group hosts a family dinner in their home. It’s the one thing that gets me through each week, if I’m being honest. When you come from a broken family, you cling to the one you created yourself.

“Okay, well I should probably get back. Spreadsheets await,” she says sarcastically.

Although my sister is wild and rebellious, she’s very smart when it comes to numbers. That’s why she became the head of the financial department in our company. In addition to our separation anxiety, that’s also why she went to Harvard with me.

“I have a meeting I have to get to anyway. Have to finalize for the brewery campaign.” I finally find the file.

Sam laughs. “It kills me you do this shit because outside of here, you just would never guess. You’d think you work somewhere more dirty and nitty gritty.” With that, she’s out the door.

If only you knew, Sam.

I sit in my car, staring at the house I grew up in, but never felt like home. I hate this place.

Normally Sam and I drive here together, but she was out tending to her art studio. So, we opted to meet one another here.

So, I wait in the truck because I have a bet waiting, and I know I won’t hear the end of it if I go in without her. Things are always easier with Sam by my side.

I reach for the flowers in my passenger seat as she pulls up in her purple jeep wrangler. I may not have much in common with my mother, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love her. It’s my ritual to bring her and Sam flowers each dinner, and each dinner my mother beams at the sight of me and the bouquet before her.

She always switches out the previous dying one with the newest, freshest one. There will come a day when she has to sit and watch the flowers die to ash, knowing she won’t get another one. Questions will press her mind, the loudest being who will protect me now? even if she doesn’t want to admit it.

She’s just a product of her generation, her environment, her grooming. Just as we all are. She’s the soft spoken, timid, spineless type of delicate woman with no voice. The submissive wife she was groomed to be by her upbringing.

A bang on my window jolts me from my thoughts. Looking over, I see Sam standing there. With her face pressing against the window, her flaring nostrils create perspiration on my truck window as her face squishes against it.

“You coming or what loser?”

SUNNY

I nestle myself into the mattress on the floor of my new apartment with a hot mug of tea in my hands. I’d found the bags of tea shoved into my backpack — a reminder that my parents sent me off with a small part of home.

Despite my weary body, I can’t help but think It was a good day. I’d just gotten off a video call with my parents, considering they are the only contact in the new phone. Their words of encouragement have my frantic heart only slightly calmed.

I look around the empty studio, save for the string lights I set up, and the few necessary items I picked up. My brand new scrubs sit folded next to my bed with my pre-packed backpack for work.

All I had coming into the city was that backpack I filled before Ryan was able to wake up. If he ever did. His absence when the police arrived tells me he did. Yet that voice still pesters. Murderer. Blood loss like that should be considered fatal.

I cashed out my entire savings, which was enough, but not nearly so, that way he couldn’t track me via card trail. Over and over my mind plays over each detail, hopeful there is no flaw in my plan.

I try to imagine the day I’ll have tomorrow, wondering how the hospital and coworkers will be. I’m in need of the distraction. My paranoid thoughts have me checking the windows and locks numerous times before settling down. Even then, I still glance at them every few minutes.

The exhaustion that weighs on me grants me new hope that I’ll be able to sleep through the night. I haven’t been able to since the day I left. I can’t shake the feeling that he can be around every corner, waiting for his chance to get back at me. If he’s alive, he’s angry because I did the one thing he was always afraid I’d do.

I left.

Despite the anxiety that seems to be a part of me now, I actually have a small, genuine smile because for a minute, I finally feel a little fragment of myself again.

Like Sunny.

It’s a contradicting feeling — being free yet shackled. I glance around the empty apartment. There isn’t much here, but if I’m being honest, it’s more than I’ve had in a long time.

TYLER

Sam and I are greeted at the door by our mother’s big smile and sparkling amber eyes. “Hello my sweeties!” She chimes with her arms open for a hug.

“Hey mom.” Sam gives her a one-handed hug. Waltzing into the house, she beelines for the alcohol cart in the living room.

We always have drinks first in the living room, followed by dinner at seven. Ironic that alcohol still remains in this house when there’s a recovering alcoholic living in it.

“Hi, mom.” I wrap my mother in my arms, kissing her cheek, engulfing her in my broad, tall frame.

“Oh, my Tyler, sweetie. Are you okay? You look tired.” She cups my jaw.

“It was just a long day. Doesn’t help someone woke me up earlier than anticipated.” I peer at my sister, who already has a drink in hand.

“I’m not sorry about it.” She takes a sip.

“For you.” I motion the flowers to my mother.

Her eyes beam as if it’s a surprise. Yet my heart blooms a bit in my chest. I spent my entire life trying to keep that smile on her face. I’ll take the wins where I can get them.

“Oh, these are just lovely, Tyler. Let me go change them out and then we can sit down and catch up. Come on.” She grabs my hand, leading me inside then disappears into the formal dining room.

Sam approaches me with a drink ready. I take a sip, my mouth burning from the alcohol. “Damn, Sam,” I choke. It’s basically pure vodka.

“Cheers brother.” She raises her glass.

“Okay, flowers are set up. Thank you, Tyler. I look forward to them every time.” She sits on the couch, clutching a glass of wine.

“No problem, mom.” I sit down across from her.

I peer around, unsure of why I do since it hasn’t changed from my childhood. Floral rugs, expensive antiques in each corner. Despite the large windows, the house still has an err of darkness by the thick, closed drapes. It’s a museum of old art, antique furniture, and my haunted memories.

As I watch my mother on the couch across from me, unbothered by the memories that sit with her, my own thoughts fester. I’d pulled the man she claims to love off her on that very couch.

“Your father won’t be joining us. His meeting got delayed so he won’t be back until later this evening.” Our mothers voice interludes my thoughts, “He said he’s so sorry, but he’ll for sure be here at the next dinner.”

“What a shame,” Sam says, sarcasm like venom laced in each word. I try not to smile as I swirl my drink in my hand.

“So, what is new with you two? How is work? Sam, are you still working at that art studio thing?” Diane attempts conversation.

Sam blinks at her. “Yup.”

So, it’s going to be one of those nights.

Sam is colorful compared to our parents who are strictly black and white. Her act of rebellion is running her own little art studio to live out the artistic dream our parents tried to force out of her.

“And Tyler, honey, how are you? How is work? I hope your father isn’t pushing you too hard. That man works himself to death.” Diane says while taking a sip of her wine.

“Work is just fine, mom. Nothing out of the usual.”

“And how is Shelby doing?” My mother pries.

There it is.

I see Sam holding back a smile as I glance at her from the corner of my eye. She scoffs a laugh into her drink, succumbing to the complete humor that is our life.

I sigh. “Oh mom, how many times do I have to tell you, that ship has sailed. For a while now.” Well, it hasn’t necessarily sailed, but I’m about to fucking sink it.

“I just don’t understand, Tyler. She is just such a lovely girl, and comes from a good family. You have known one another since you were babies! You’re arranged. How will you get your way out of that?” she chimes, thinking she won the battle when she brings up that fact.

I open my mouth to speak but am interrupted by the house maid. “Dinner is ready, Mrs. Caddell.”

“Oh, thank god,” Sam blurts, pouncing from the couch.

“Thank you, Serena. We will be right in,” Our mother says, standing.

As she leads the way to the dining room, I feel Sam tug me back.

“You owe me a coffee, bitch.”

The three of us sit at the too big table with the head vacant in my father’s absence. Our designated seats haven’t changed since we were kids.

As I stare at the empty seat, another memory floods my mind, destroying all the dry corners I’ve managed since the last invasion.

Just short of seven years old, Sam sat in our fathers chair, twirling around in it while wearing her brand new tutu she received that day. It was innocent, but not for long.

Soon enough, my sweet little sister was sitting on the floor, cradling her arm because he pulled it right out of its socket. I held my crying sister as I attempted to dial for help.

“You want to be a hero?” He’d asked. “I’ll make you into a villain.”

I can’t remember much after that and I’m glad for it. If I’m being honest, I can’t even remember how I got to bed that night. The next day I awoke with bruises in all the places no one would see with clothes on. Even in his drunken state, everything he did was with meticulous purpose.

Blinking away the memory, I reach for my drink, making my shirt sleeve move and expose my scars. It catches my mother’s attention and her eyes fall to the evidence of what her husband did to me. As if the one running vertically across the right corner of my lips isn’t a reminder any time she sees me.

His one slip up he won’t let me forget.

“Don’t look surprised, mother. You know what he did to me.”

Sam chokes on her food, stifling a laugh, or a cry. I’m not sure. Whenever we are here, it can honestly be either.

Rolling up my sleeves to prove my point, I expose the others that lace my forearms. Some old, some new. He may not give me the scars himself anymore, but he’s still responsible for them by making me his personal hitman.

“Tyler,” Diane grumbles. “You know that he changed. He worked on himself and went to rehab…”

“I don’t want to hear the spiel.”

It’s the same conversation, just different words to describe it, on a different fucking day.

It wasn’t too long after his rehab I noticed his drinking again. Mitchell isn’t a good person sober, and he’s an even worse person drunk. I won’t call myself a good man, either. In our world, we are all by products of evil, somehow; whether you’re born into it or created by it through circumstance.

By my unlucky stars, I have experienced both.

“Tyler, I know you made so many sacrifices as a child…”

“Mom, just stop!” Sam yells, smacking a hand on the table. “He said cut it out. Stop making him relive things he clearly doesn’t want to. Or me for that matter.”

I rub a hand up and down my face, knowing she feels guilty. Her little brother had to protect her. But there is no world where I won’t act as a shield to the people I love, even if it means permanent scars.

“Well, are you two going to be bringing dates to the hotel opening?” Diane changes the topic to yet another conversation we frequent.

“If I feel like it.” Sam sips her drink.

Diane rolls her eyes. “What about you Tyler?” Her tone sounds hopeful, but she already knows my answer.

“Oh, please woman, you already know the answer to that. It’s Tyler, when has he ever brought a date to an event? Too much of a statement.” Sam laughs as she bites into a piece of roast chicken.

“I’m sure Shelby would be available.”

Sam lets out a loud laugh. “HAH. Two coffees, bitch.” She points her fork at me.

“That’s not how it works, Sam,” I mumble into my hands.

“Huh? What?” Our mother blinks, turning her head back and forth between us.

I can’t help but laugh in my hands, not sure if it’s from the pure comedy or pure hell of this dinner tonight.

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