The wind’s blowing pretty hard, and I can hear waves breaking just over a shrubby line of pink beach roses past the circle. “See, that’s always been her big dream, to move to Florida. The endgame. Everything’s better in Florida—that’s what she’s told me constantly for the past few years. That’s why we’re here right now in Beauty, in fact. So she can save money and we can move to Florida.”

“But you aren’t going with her,” he points out. “LA is a long way from Florida.”

My chest squeezes as I lower my camera. “A very long way.”

“If your mom is convinced that she’s going to settle down in Florida and stay put there, then why don’t you just go with her instead of moving to LA? Do you not trust that she’ll stay in Florida?”

It takes me a long time to answer. “Remember how the Summers & Co store window was before I broke it?”

“Much the same as it is now, only it was a lot filthier back then.”

I huff in frustration. “What I mean is, remember how they had all the beautiful Christmas displays, and people would stand outside on the sidewalk and press their faces against the glass and stare at the pretty, sparkly things inside the display window that were just on the other side of the glass, just out of reach, but they couldn’t touch?”

“Sure?”

“That’s what it’s like, living with my mom.”

He shakes his head, confused.

“She’s beautiful and sparkly, but just out of reach. I’m just a stupid bird that sometimes flies into the glass and gets hurt.”

His brow lifts. “Ah … She’s got an invisible wall up.”

“You know,” I say, peering at him thoughtfully, “I think she really might. And if I had to guess, it went up after the big fight with Grandma, when we left Beauty five years ago. And to tell you the truth, I’m not sure it will ever come down. Not for me, not for anyone.”

“You never told me what that fight was about. What caused the neighbors to call the police all those years ago?”

I shrug. “The funny thing is, I don’t even know most of it. Some of it, I think I’ve blocked out, and some of it, I just couldn’t hear clearly. I was in my bedroom—they wouldn’t let me come out—and they were in the kitchen. I heard a lot of swearing and shouting. I heard my name, so I know some of it was about me. About Mom getting pregnant with me in college and decisions she made. Maybe she regrets keeping me, I don’t know.”

“Aw, come on,” Lucky chastises. “Winona adores you. Anyone can see it. She brags about you nonstop to every customer that walks in the shop.”