“Renn got it for me for Christmas. I think the store is called Rad and Bad.”

“Is that so?” I turn to look at Renn pointedly, still standing up. “Weird that he managed to get you something cool, ’cause I’ve been getting kitty calendars and scented bath bombs from him for the last four years.”

And I didn’t even have a bath in my Salem apartment.

Renn points at me with his fork, which is full of scrambled eggs and bacon. “That’s because I only put in effort with people I’m tight with, and you were MIA.”

“We used to be tight,” I say, but I don’t feel the overwhelming sadness that comes every time I think about how much has changed in the last half decade. Instead, I am hopeful that we can maybe fix this.

“Right. And now you have to work your way back into my good graces.” Renn downs an entire glass of orange juice before slamming it on the table. “You can start by massaging my feet every night.”

Donna uses her foot to push the chair opposite hers.

“Have a seat, Ever. There’s a plate for you on the table. The sourdough is still fresh.”

“Did you make it?” I scrunch my nose, not making a move.

She rolls her eyes. “Do I look like I have all the time in the world?”

I sit down. I wolf an unholy amount of food, washing it down with orange juice. I don’t talk much. Donna, Renn, and Dad converse between themselves. Every once in a while, they ask me what I think about what they’re saying, but I don’t feel under any kind of pressure to jump into the conversation. They don’t bombard me with questions. More than anything, I’m blindsided by how much these three look and feel like a family unit. It is so painfully obvious I’m the odd one out. Donna calls Renn “Ruin,” and Renn calls her “Danny.” She and Dad volunteer at the local community center together. It is clear to me that by coming here, I’ve stepped into something that’s already whole and functioning. So despite not being completely okay with it, and still feeling weirded out by the fact that there is a whole-ass stranger living in my childhood house full-time now, I tell Donna that she doesn’t have to stay at Dylan’s house on my account and can move back in.

“Don’t stay away on my account. As you can tell, I’m mostly in my room.” I shrug, playing it off.

Donna smiles. “We’re all kind of counting on seeing more of you out of the room.”

“Ah, she is trying to fix me already.” I send Dad a venomous smile. “What a catch.”

“Bitter much?” Renn kicks me under the table. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you? She’s being nice.”