Monti sets her drink down, pulling a long silver box with a small red bow from her bag, and sets it in the space between us.

My eyes lift to hers and she half smiles. “I was going to give this to you last night, but you never came home.”

I eye the box, bringing my warm drink to my lips. “What is it?”

“A gift.”

I look to her with a blank expression, and she chuckles, then she takes a heavy breath.

“I owe you more than I’ve given you,” she tells me, pulling the top off of the box to reveal what’s inside.

I stare at the small copper key, knowing exactly where it fits.

“Where did you get that?”

“I stole it,” she admits. “I snuck into Mom’s office back in Florida the night before she sent me here. If I was coming home, I knew I had to take it with me.”

I grind my teeth together, closing my eyes.

“Gifts can change your life, Jameson, but in order for that to happen, you have to be willing to accept them and decide if you’re ready for what’s on the other side, because there will be no going back.”

My gaze snaps to hers, and a slow frown builds when she tucks my hair behind my ear, a sad smile on her lips.

I clench my teeth, fighting back my words.

My sister and I don’t speak like this; we don’t open up and share things between us, but she’s here now, trying.

Would it kill me to try too?

I take another small sip.

“You’re a Filano,” she says simply. “We never lose.”

“You lost, Monti,” I remind her. “Mom and Dad will hardly look at you. I’m... apparently more pissed off at you than I realized.” Guilt weighs on me, but it’s the truth and I didn’t see it until emotions I buried began to resurface with a vengeance.

“Like I said” —tears soften her tone and I retreat a little— “there’s no going back. I made a choice, and to be honest, it’s really, really hard,” she cries, looking away as her hand comes up to dab at her eyes. “But I would be lying if I said it was the wrong one.”

She sniffles, turning back to me. “I’m fucked up, J. I know that. I still kill myself trying to find perfection and I know it’s some sick and twisted mommy and daddy issues. I might never be ‘okay,’ if I’m being honest. Who knows, but what I do know is you’re stronger than I am, Jameson,” she whispers, and my chest tightens.

“You’re a force, sister.” She leans forward, locking our eyes for a long, hard moment. “Maybe it’s time to let every asshole know how fierce you really are.”