He pauses, his eyes refocusing and turning back to me. “It’s safe here, obviously.” He laughs a little huff of air, completely devoid of mirth. “I mean, the crime rate hovers somewhere around zero percent. I don’t want to make it sound like they put us in danger. Besides, we loved it.

“Except, I was supposed to watch them,” he says. “Every summer, we vacationed here. Every summer, I was supposed to keep an eye on them. But I was fourteen and stubborn and pimply and I liked the girl who worked at the ice cream shop, so I told Emily and Avery they were old enough to go to the water alone. I told them to go and to check back in later. They begged me to come, especially Emily, who was always afraid of everything. They never came back.”

He moves to sit on the ground next to me, our hands finding each other through the fog of our thoughts and the ominous presence of Jenna and his sisters. He shivers and clenches his eyes shut.

“I looked everywhere,” he says. “I went to the beach and to the house. I went to all our favorite spots in town, with Alex. He came to help me after I rushed into the store crying. When we couldn’t find them, Alex got Val and we drove in her car and looked and looked. Val took me to the police station. They asked if I knew where the girls had last gone. I didn’t, but I guessed that, maybe without anyone telling them not to, they went to the alcove and tried to swim there. We were never allowed, because of the riptides. And that’s exactly what happened.”

A long pause ensues. The wind chimes cry through the trees and the leaves rustle their discontent. Behind Nolan’s eyes, a pack of wolves descends on a lost squirrel. The squirrel does not struggle as it is ripped apart. It thinks this is the way of things. It thinks it deserves this fate.

“After, all Dad was worried about was keeping it out of the press. No articles in the paper, no nightly news coverage. I hated him for it—strolling around in his rumpled suit, yelling into his phone—but I think it was just something for him to do. I think he still does it, you know? That’s why he never stops working, so he doesn’t have to think about the girls or me.” A pause. “It’s my fault,” Nolan repeats.

I want to say this isn’t his fault, death waits for no person and comes whenever it pleases, but I don’t contradict him. Sometimes the best way to absolve the guilty is to let them feel the weight of their culpability, no matter how untrue.