“That looks fun, but what about this?” I point at a picture of the lagoon, where it shows a family in a four-person boat, and another couple in a kayak, and a girl standing on a paddleboard in the distance. “We might even get to see a sea turtle. Wouldn’t that be awesome?”

“No,” Abby says. “I want to dance.”

I hold in a sigh. I can’t think of anything less fun than towering over a group of women all watching me try to move my nonexistent hips. “Well, that’s a class, isn’t it?” I try to redirect. “We probably had to sign up beforehand.”

Afton, who’s again been texting all through breakfast, suddenly picks up the brochure and inspects it. “There’s a hula class that starts at ten today—perfect timing, actually. It says walk-ins are welcome. And you get one class a day free with your stay.”

“Yay, we’re going to dance!” Abby exclaims.

I give my older sister a tight smile. “Thank you, Afton. You’re so helpful.” I turn to the younger one. “I don’t know, kid. Maybe we could try the hula class another day. . . .” Tomorrow we’re going to take a day trip to the other side of the island, but after that we’ll have some free time.

“I want to dance now,” Abby says, the edge of a whine I am all too familiar with creeping into her voice. “Please?”

“Okay,” I sigh. “But—”

“I could take her,” Afton says lightly.

I stare at her.

Afton slides her phone into her pocket, which signifies that she’s serious. “I wouldn’t mind moving my hips a little.”

“Really? You want to take Abby to hula class?”

“I want to dance,” repeats Abby.

Afton shrugs. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

“O-kay,” I say slowly. “If you’re sure . . .”

“You’re not the only one who can take care of her, you know,” she says.

“Do I know that, though?” I ask sarcastically. Afton does babysit sometimes. But when she does, it’s always as a favor, to me, or to Mom or Pop. Whereas when I take care of Abby, it’s because it’s my unspoken responsibility.

“I take care of you,” Afton says, and that’s mostly true. While I’ve always taken care of Abby, Afton has always looked out for me. Until lately, anyway.

“I missed you last night,” I murmur. Asking, without technically asking, where she was.

Her face gives away nothing. “I was just wandering around. Thinking.”

“Thinking about what?”