I couldn't look away from the deer. It remained lying there, the dark blood soaking into the grass, its legs twitching. I struggled to breathe, my heart thumping in my ears as I stared at the thing. The only sound seemed to be the soft gurgling of the deer's last breaths.

Then I heard the voice, cutting through the silence like a knife. "You've got no right to that deer, lady."

I looked up, blinking as my eyes caught the shape of the man standing a few feet away. He was holding a rifle, his face hard, a smug smile on his lips. But it wasn't the gun that made my stomach twist—it was the darkness in his pupils.

"This is my property," she snapped, stepping forward with her hands planted on her hips. Her eyes were sharp as knives, and her shoulders stiffened as if she were ready to fight. "You can't shoot a deer on my land, almost hitting my grandson, and come over here as if you did nothing wrong. Heh, you sure as hell aren't gonna take it with you either," her words were on fire.

The man scoffed, shaking his head, before he turned to walk away. "You Hicks are all the same, white trash thieves," he muttered. But he didn't get far. GiGi wasn't having any of it. She marched up to him, her boots clicking against the dirt as she pointed a finger right at his chest.

"If you had any sense, you'd know better than to come around here in the first place. I'll give ya' to the count of five to move off my grass, or else I may have to tool the Castle Doctrine," she barked.

GiGi had a way with words and a voice that made anyone second-guess themselves. The hunter huffed and gave her a stare that would have frozen fire, but he didn't argue. He turned and stomped off, his boots crunching on the ground like the last word of a conversation.

She watched him go, arms crossed, and her eyes narrowed. She sighed, shaking her head. She knelt down beside me, her old hands soft on my shoulder.

"You see that, Kellen?" she asked.

"Some people believe they can take what they want. But you need to protect what's yours and what's right." Not only for you, but for the ones you love. Do you understand me?

I didn't answer. I locked my eyes on the deer, the shock still rattling inside me. I couldn't figure out why anyone would hurt something so innocent.

She patted my shoulder again. "Don't ever forget that, Kellen."

I nodded, allowing the response to settle.

The wood floors creaked under my boots, like they always had. I hated them on nights when I'd try to sneak out to meet Mitch by the Triple Lane Street sign. It would take time to creep through the house. I'd pause at every groan and moan, expecting GiGi or Burnie to burst in with their skull-knockers.

The smell of the old woodstove I hated clung to my clothes and hair. I felt like I smelled like smoked ham and bonfires. No matter how many times I washed my clothes or how much Axe body spray I used, it wouldn't go away. Now, smelling it in the air, I felt like I was home.

Everything was as I remembered, a snapshot frozen in time. The faded floral couch still sat by the window. The crocheted throw blanket GiGi had on her chair was now folded on the armrest.

The wallpaper was a soft cream color with pale yellow flowers. It still clung to the walls, and some edges curled. It was as if time had stood still here. I could almost hear GiGi humming in the kitchen. That sound used to drift through the house. Burnie would complain about the rabbits messing with the garden. GiGi spent more hours there than the day allowed.

I caught a whiff of GiGi's cooking. The scent of rosemary and garlic lingered from Sunday dinners. No matter what I was out doing, I'd be home on time on Sundays, six o'clock sharp.

The old rug in the corner had a faded pattern. I used to trace it with my fingers as a child. I would sit cross-legged in front of the fire, holding a cup of chocolate milk. The rug still has the same stain in the center.

My heart ached in a way I couldn't explain. Seven years. So much had changed. But this place remained untouched.

I stepped forward, my boots thudding on the hardwood floor. It felt like I was returning to another life. Into a time when everything was simpler.

It was strange. I hadn't realized how much I had missed it—how much I had missed her.

"Kellen. Look at the height on you! We've got to carve a new measurement into the wall."

Talula walked into the living room with her arms crossed over her chest. She tied her curly brown hair up in a messy bun. She looked older than she was from her wild years.

"Then at least you could be there for one of them," I snapped.

Her eyes dropped, and she closed the distance between us.

"Kellen," she started.

"Where's GiGi?" I asked, looking past her.

She grinned in disbelief and stepped to the side, pointing her finger toward the back room.

"Yep, you're my son, all right," she quipped.

I didn't reply. I walked down the hall, seeing family photos. There I was, a chubby five-year-old in cowboy boots, grinning in front of birthday cakes. I stopped at GiGi's door at the end of it. I pushed it open enough to peek in. She was lying in her king-size bed, hooked to an IV, with breathing tubes in her nose.

"You've always been bad at sneaking, Noodle. Come here and hug me," she said, looking at me with shiny eyes. In these years that have passed, GiGi still looks the same. Without the medical IV beeping next to her and the tubes, I'd never guess she was as sick as she was.

GiGi's mole above her lip raised with her smile. A cinnamon roll bun at the back of her head held her strawberry-blonde hair.

I walked in and fell into her arms as soon as I hit her bedside. She gave me a hard squeeze; the strength she still had didn't surprise me. The comforting scent of Shalimar filled the air. It was her favorite perfume, not for its smell, but for the story behind it.

Tears were coming, but I hid the evidence.

GiGi released her grip on me, then pinched my arm. "That's for leaving me like you did," she sneered.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"I know why you did it, and I can't be mad about it, but it still hurt. Especially when you weren't returning my calls," she said. "Have you talked to your mother yet?"

"GiGi, please. I'm not ready to talk to her yet," I replied before plopping down in the Lazy Boy next to her bed. It molded around me; I had to scoot up and sit on the edge of it; my long legs never did well with Lazy Boy recliners.

I rubbed my temples at the thought of having any conversation with that woman.

"You've got to think about her side of things, Kellen. We all did what we had to do for you. Your mother didn't want to do what she did, and she wanted to be there for you. You were too attached. I'd watch you stand at the end of the driveway with your little bag packed every morning, waiting for her to pick you up. You'd put on that godawful Bugs Bunny sweater every day because she got it for you."

GiGi paused; she sat up more in her bed and fixed the comforter around her.

"We had to lie to you, or else you wouldn't have been able to let her go. 'Cause she wasn't coming back anytime soon, and you had to understand that. It was killing you, Kellen."

I looked at my hands. I was wringing them together. I tried to avoid how this conversation made me feel and focus on something else.

"Kellen look at me," she said.

I looked up at GiGi; her green eyes looked into mine.

"We're going to be fine," she said.

Later that night, I was in my old room, sorting through my old paintings. My walls had posters of Biggie and Lynyrd Skynyrd. I also hung paintings by Claude Monet and Rembrandt van Rijn. Burnie said that she couldn't figure me out. But art is art, and I appreciate it all. Whether it's Biggie's dream or Monet's Water Lilies, I value every form.

I was looking at a sketch I'd made of Burnie in her garden, scowling at the heat. Then I remembered the sketch I had of the girl I'd met on the tower. I pulled my leather bag closer to me, flipped the top, and reached inside for my sketchpad.

It was damp from the rain. But it wasn't ruined. The sketch of her features was still clear. It hypnotized me. The beauty, the raw emotion.

I didn't have to twist anything or manipulate it. It's beautiful the way it is, and I couldn't even put a name to her. I knew I had to see her again.

I had to find this girl.