Olivia felt herself fall down the deep hole she’d covered so carefully for too many years. Nothing to stop her now as she plunged into the past. She covered her face with her hands and tried to make it go away. She didn’t want to talk about Marley. She didn’t want to remember that horrible afternoon, her sister’s empty eyes, the letter saying Marley couldn’t do life anymore.

Now she knew the real reason Marley had checked out of her life. It wasn’t merely addiction. It was something more horrible, something her sister had carried, internalized into destruction, and then ultimately couldn’t deal with any longer.

Marley had been sexually abused by their father.

How had Olivia not known? She’d been a social worker and therapist. She’d seen more of this sort of thing than she’d ever wanted to see. And when Marley had asked if Olivia would help her, Olivia had refused, pulling the tough-love card. So Marley had overdosed, killing herself.

Jesus.

Neve pulled Olivia’s hands away from her face. “Liv. What are you saying? Tell me.”

“I—I—” She fell back onto her elbows and closed her eyes, not wanting to say the things she had to say. Tears slid down her cheek, and a sob welled in her gut. “Oh God, Neve.”

Neve poked her. Angrily. “Tell me. Now.”

Olivia opened her eyes and sat up, trying to swallow her grief. Her sister still stood over her, a furious harpy ready to shred anyone in her path to bits. “Just sit down, okay?”

“I can’t.”

“Please, Neve. Please just don’t stand over me. Sit.”

“Fine.” Her sister sank down next to her, shoving her leg over. She looked like a bull being penned. Olivia felt a trickle of fear snake inside her because Neve looked out of control. “You said she killed herself. You know this?”

“Okay, okay.” Olivia sucked in a deep breath and tried to find the words. “So you know how I found Marley, right? I was the one who went to the beach motel.”

Her sister nodded.

“When I got there, well, I knew there was no need to try to resuscitate her. I tried to clean her up.” Olivia could hardly say the words. Her voice trembled, but she tried to focus on the facts and not her feelings. “I closed her eyes and used one of the towels to wipe her face. I glanced over on the bed and saw a note. She’d written it on the notepad from the motel.”

Neve rubbed her eyes and looked away. “She committed suicide? That’s what you’re telling me? That you essentially lied to your family and let us think it was accidental?” Her sister’s voice rose with each question.