The Mad Baker and its owner, Jules, were known for wildly decorated confections and coming up with flavors you wouldn’t always predict went together. Sea salt brownies. Chocolate blueberry muffins. A rainbow cake that exploded with sprinkles when you cut into it.

“You know, you live here now. You don’t have to try everything on your first visit.”

He shrugged. “Life’s uncertain. Eat dessert first.”

I could respect that approach to life. I smiled up at Brody as he opened the door to The Exchange for me. “Just as long as the blue velvet cupcake is mine.”

“I wouldn’t dare steal your precious. And not just because I’m a gentleman. The way you were eyeing that sucker tells me I might lose a hand if I tried to take a bite.”

A bark of laughter escaped me. “I do like my sweets…” I opened the Harbor mailbox first and handed the mail to Brody. Then I moved to my own box, pulling out a handful of items.

We headed back into the chilly winter morning. The air had a bite to it. One I loved. It reminded me that I was here and breathing. Brody and I were both quiet as we cut through the park, sorting through the assorted envelopes in our hands.

My steps faltered as I read the return address on a plain white letter. It wasn’t the address that stopped my heart. It was the name. Michael McCabe.

As my heart started again, it rattled against my ribs. I tore at the paper, trying to tug the folded pages inside free. My hands trembled as I finally unfolded the contents of the envelope.

Sissy,

It’s been so long. I miss you. It hurt when you stopped coming to visit. I understand why, but I can’t change that it hurt. Doc Abrams always says to be honest with our feelings. To let them out. So, I’m doing just that.

How are you? Have you missed me at all? Did they tell you I was getting out? I have a job at a local computer help desk company. It’s not exactly mentally stimulating, but it brings in a check and makes my parole officer happy.

How about you come visit me? Or I could come to you. But I have a feeling you’re not in Charlotte like the address and bank account I found. You’re smart, but not smarter than me. Remember that. We have an unfinished game to play.

The words on the page blurred as the knowledge that I’d never be free of my brother and his torment sank in. Everything seemed to close in around me as I slipped from the here and now to that night so many years ago.

“Mom. Dad. I’m home.”