The cool breeze off the ocean spins around me, sticking to the layer of sweat glistening across my forehead. The sun that has just peeked through the thin coating of fog hovering the surface of the water creates a streaky trail of glistening rays.

I love the mornings along the water, the crash of waves uninterrupted by splashes of people, the few early surfers peacefully awaiting the swell. There's peace in the mornings here in Vista Point, California. A quiet, but not silence.

I don't like the silence. It's within the silence that the noise is the loudest.

I push forward, feeling the sand beneath my strides, the added lull of padded ground straining against my muscles, pushing me further, harder.

Running has become an escape for me over the years. It started as added training for soccer, a way to stay in shape even on the off season. But there's something so freeing about the way the air flies across your skin, the burn of fatigue always scratching the surface, and the power of will fighting to push you past the brink of surrender.

I glance at my watch, acknowledging my fourth mile roll over, checking my pace and pushing forward. When I hit the stairs, I take a deep breath, not breaking stride before I begin a rhythm, one quick step at a time, the added burn to my calves and thighs fires the rush of adrenaline across my core.

I hit the final step, pushing hard on the ground and flying across the pavement to catch the steady rise of the sun. It's breathtaking from up here, a view I don't think I could ever tire from. I take it in, breathing the subtle scents of the salty sea air.

With one last glance of the ocean, I turn the corner and make my way down the street, passing the various shops, most of which are still closed. There's one spot that always opens early, though, the door propped gently open.

I push it enough to step inside, taking in the arrangement of floral scents, the vibrancy of various flowers creates a serene sense of happiness.

I reach for the sunflowers, grabbing a few loose daisies and sliding them between to find the perfect opening. I let them fill the space and stand out among the brighter, more popular, flower. I reach for a bundle of baby's breath next, sprinkling the whimsical addition among the yellow and white.

I'm still perfecting the display when a voice falls across the small flower shop, "I love watching you bring those bouquets to life."

I'm smiling, my eyes still on the flowers. "I'm not as good as her, she will always have the best."

"Your mom had a gift," Piper's gentle voice comes closer, her wild red curls falling past her shoulders.

Piper was my mom's best friend. When my mom passed, Piper made sure to be the female presence in my life I didn't know I'd need. But puberty has a way of making it awkward being in a house full of boys. The arrival of my monthly gift is only one prime example of such awkwardness. Piper was there, helping me with all the things my dad had no clue beyond what Google could provide him.

Her and my mom bonded over craft. Either flowers or the piano, they had a way with the arts, something they both seemed to lose themselves in. It's why a piano sits in the corner, a display of all the things that built their friendship. My mom would spend her days arranging flowers, playing for them and insisting that it helped them thrive and brought out their vibrancy.

She was a free spirit, a kind soul that didn't deserve the early end she was handed.

"She loved this place," I agree, reaching for the blue ribbon behind the counter.

The warm, gentle smile across Piper's face rests softly around me, her quiet nod a respectful agreement. She takes a small breath, stepping a tiny bit closer. "So, are you ready for today?"

I fasten the bow around the bundle in my hands, holding it out in front of me and spinning it just enough to check all the angles for proper balance.

"Ignoring it won't make it go away," she keeps going, her knowing tone lifting my eyes to meet hers.

"I'm not ignoring it. I'm just focusing on my work. Should I add more daisies? Maybe another sunflower for more pops of yellow?"

"Uh huh," she hums, nodding her head. "I think it's perfect, Mackenzie. I think you know it is, too."

I give it another glance, adjusting the bow before agreeing. "Thanks."

"Today is happening whether you're ready or not," she speaks up, offering the words of wisdom she's always handed me. "Maybe don't ignore that fact today? Make something of your last moments with Jared before he leaves for college, okay?"

I know her words carry weight, I know she's absolutely correct. But I like the idea of shoving aside the inevitable a whole lot better than facing it. So, instead of acknowledging her words, I lift the flowers to my face to take in the fresh scent and let it calm the bundled pieces inside of me.

When I let them drop to my side, I offer her a look, letting her know I hear her. "I got it. I won't waste today."

"Good." She smiles. "Tell her I said hi."

"I will."

I make my way past the premade arrangements, smiling at the pops of colors before my eyes land on the piano in the corner. My steps falter, the pause in cadence holds my breath hostage.

"You should play something before you go," Piper offers.

The tight pull across my shoulders straightens my spine, working its hold along my chest. My fingers grip the flowers a bit tighter, my breaths falling quick and heavy.

"Maybe another time," I call over my shoulder, meeting her knowing eyes.

Her smile is small, that break in her eyes hitting my chest. She nods, one small, knowing tip of her chin.

She knows another time won't come, she knows that the sound of that piano will never echo the walls again. As much as my heart aches to hear the sound, to feel the pulse of the keys, it never will.

Not without her.

——

There's a calm in spending the morning with my mom, but the solace of the cemetery carries a heavy weight, like a thick layer of bricks laid meticulously across my chest.

I wouldn't trade a single moment I have with her, the ones where I can be myself, without the burden of walls. But it's laboring, the load I carry, the pain that still resides when I step away from the simple headstone edged along the grass. As much as I want to believe she's still with me, I know the barren cold that falls over me every time I step away. I think it's why I run, to escape the empty.

"Okay, I think that's the last of it," my dad says, dropping the last suitcase to the ground with a thud. The solace of my mom's grave is no longer in front of me, the peace of escape a distant hum. I could actually go for a run right now. A sprint. Anything to carry me away from this very moment.

Soon after I got home, it was time to load up the car and make the near two hour drive to the airport. I've been avoiding this moment, pretending that the time wouldn't actually come. And yet, here we are.

I look around the bustling sidewalk of the airport. There's such a mixture of emotion. Excited and frantic families shuffling their kids inside, the thrill of vacation evident across their beaming faces. There are long goodbyes written in the lingering embraces and etched within the solemn faces.

My reality finds familiarity in those long, emotional goodbyes. My heart aches alongside those I've never met.

I'm the last one left in the family.

As of today, all of my brothers have officially moved out. One after the other moved on with their life, refusing to return back to Vista. My oldest, Stephen, met the love of his life all the way across the country in New York. I don't think there's a reality where he ever comes back besides the holidays. And my second oldest, Travis, left for L.A. to go to college and found something there that wasn't worth leaving. I don't know exactly what it is, but I know he doesn't plan to come back.

I have healed a lot over the years, but I have continued to dread this day. The day where it would just be me alone in our house. I still have my dad, but I know how quiet it's about to get.

My eyes find my brother on instinct, trying to find the calm to ease my mind from spiraling. He's already watching me, a weary glisten in his gaze. A knowing look of sympathy falls across his face.

I give him a forced smile. Despite all the shit we like to give each other, it's been me and him from the beginning. Being so close in age, we learned to lean on one another, to share our struggles and be the pillar of support that we both so desperately needed.

And now he's leaving.

"Don't go getting all emotional now, sis," he jokes, doing what he always does to lighten the mood—offering me humor. It's within that one comment that he pulls me away from the depths of emotion.

I reach out and punch him in the arm. "I am not getting emotional!" I protest.

A playful spark hits his eyes when he laughs. "Oh come on, I know you're going to miss me. It's okay to admit it."

"Oh yeah? Because I was just thinking about how I could turn your room into my own private hang out area. Maybe a treadmill, a reading corner, some posters on the walls—"

"Don't you dare touch my room!" He lunges forward, wrapping an arm around me and placing me into a familiar headlock. I shove my leg around his, pushing my hips into him and swing myself around, breaking free of his hold.

We're both laughing before the sound slowly trails off and the mood shifts more serious. I'll miss the bickering, the playful digs we've always given one another. Fighting is what we do. We poke, we make fun, we battle because that's what keeps things bright. That's what keeps the dark shadows at bay.

"Come on, kids. Can't we just say our goodbyes without a fighting match?" our father insists.

I stick my tongue out at Jare and the simplicity of his smile brings some of the lightness back. He drops his head, though, taking a step forward. "For real," he says quietly, placing his hands along my shoulders. "I'm going to miss your snarky comments, sis."

I take a step forward and wrap my arms around him, the safety of his hold squeezes me against his chest. "I'm going to miss your crude humor."

"Aw man," a new voice cuts in, neither one of us needing to turn to know who it is. "Did I miss the goodbyes already?"

I give my brother one more look before turning to see Cam standing along the busy sidewalk.

"You know I saved a special goodbye for you," my brother jokes as he raises his eyebrows at Cam. Their bromance is definitely one for the books. I don't even know how my brother is going to manage a year without Cam on the mound, slinging him an 86 mph fastball.

They have become quite the pair on the field, the dynamic duo. But the split is only temporary, as they have every intention to be reunited next year after Cam graduates. That is, if he can get a scholarship to the same school.

Thing is, ever since that first day Cam showed up at the counseling center, he became one of us. A brother, a best friend.

We quickly learned that his parents were killed by a drunk driver, leaving him in the custody of his nineteen year old uncle, Brayden. With his uncle being in school, working to support the sudden appearance of a kid, and still being a teen, my dad stepped in, offering to give Cam a place to stay when Brayden needed a break.

Our door has always been open to him, no questions asked. To say he and my brother, Jared, have become best friends over the years would be an understatement.

"Aw, I knew you cared," Cam says, gripping his heart. My dad just rolls his eyes as he steps aside.

Cam reaches out his hand and my brother grasps it to pull him into one of those masculine guy hugs. I make sure to give them their bro space, following my dad toward the back of the car.

"Hey, Mack," Dad says, resting a hand along my shoulder. "I have to head back to the office on the way back. You good getting a ride back with Camden?"

That little pull inside my chest yanks down and that achy feeling of the empty my life is about to take on begins to drip free. "Really? Do you have to go back today?"

"It's a big case, Bug. You know I have to extend my hours when I'm in the thick of it."

"I know," I exhale, dropping my shoulders and feeling the cool air as his hand drops back beside him. "I just thought with Jare leaving, that maybe..."

"I don't get to pick the timing. If I could, I'd never miss out on the big moments. Besides, isn't that boyfriend of yours coming back today? You'll be busy catching up with him anyway."

"Yeah." I nod, looking to the side, willing the remnants of emotion away. I made a promise to myself a long time ago. My family would never have to worry about me, about comforting me. So, I take a breath, finding that shield I bury myself behind and offering him a smile. "Of course. I'll see you later tonight, then?"

"Yeah. Drive home safe, okay? Call me when you two make it back?"

"Yep. Love you, Dad."

"Love you, too, Bug."

He takes a few steps, saying his goodbyes to Jare, the two of them sharing some words that belong to them before he's stepping back toward the car.

Next, it's Cam's turn, taking a step forward and giving my brother one last parting hug. Jare whispers something to Cam that has him nodding in agreement, but I don't question it, knowing that each one of us deserve our own form of goodbye.

Cam takes a step toward his car, giving me a small nod as he passes me. It's my turn for goodbye, and I can feel the heat behind my eyes, the fear of what it means to go a whole year without my brother vibrates across my chest. Suck it down, Mackenzie, put it away.

"Hey Man," Jare calls out, stopping Cam before he settles into his car. "I'll be boarding this plane with you next year, got it?" he says, without an ounce of doubt in his voice.

"Yeah, I know," Cam confirms. I try to fight the smile forming on my face. They are so confident in their plans. I know that Jare was a huge support for Cam when we were kids. He helped him find a passion in baseball and use the sport as an outlet for his pain. They both did. They healed each other.

"And keep an eye on her, will ya?" Jare points to me. "Now that I'm not there to keep the perves away, you're gonna have to do it."

"Really, Jare?" I roll my eyes.

"Don't worry, I got it," Cam calls back without hesitation.

"Great," I mumble.

"That includes he who shall not be named," my brother adds as Cam offers a knowing nod.

"He shall be named," I correct him, loud enough for Cam to hear as well. "And it's Adam, or are you still trying to avoid the term boyfriend?"

He obnoxiously covers his ears in true dramatic form. "Nope. I'd rather take my chances with saying Beetlejuice three times, or hell, lock me in a bathroom and spin me around while I chant Bloody Mary."

"You're ridiculous. I have a boyfriend, Jare. One I've been with for six months. When are you going to accept that fact?"

He pretends to mull it over, raising a hand to his chin in dramatic thought before lifting his shoulders and letting them drop. "Never."

"You're juvenile."

"You could join a convent," he offers, pointing a finger in the air as if his thought process is anywhere on track. "I heard they're real nice."

"We're well past convent, brother," I cut in, actively ignoring his nonsense.

He ignores me, nodding his head toward Cam over my shoulder. "You're going to have your hands full with this one when I'm gone."

"Me? She got a boyfriend on your watch."

"I got a boyfriend because I found someone who wasn't intimidated by you two and you're ridiculous shenanigans used to drive all the other boys away."

"You're damn straight," Jare boasts. "If only pretty boy could have gotten the message."

I know Jare hates the fact that I have a boyfriend. He has been nothing but a royal ass to him ever since our first date. Cam hasn't been any better. In fact, they both found a way to crash my first date and threaten poor Adam the entire night. The fact that he didn't run after that told me he was a keeper.

"You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?"

"And I love you too, sis," Jare says with a smile, that serious look back in his eyes.

I stop at his comment, taking two quick steps forward and throwing myself into his arms. As much as we get under each other's skin, he has been my rock. He's been by my side every step of the way these last few years. My other brothers have been there too, but when they both moved away, it's been me and Jare.

He wraps his arms around me and holds me tight, knowing exactly what I'm feeling. "I love you, Mack," he repeats, dropping his voice and letting it fill the space between us.

"I love you, too," I whisper back.

"You're not alone, okay?" He pulls back, his eyes finding mine. He's the only one who knows how much I hate the quiet, the only bed I used to run to at night when I couldn't sleep after Mom died. Jare was always there. Always. "Camden's got you, you hear me? You need anything you let him know, and you call me. Got it?"

It won't be the same. So much is changing, so much is slipping away and no matter how tight I hold on, I can't seem to keep it within my grasp. A feeling that's all too familiar.

I nod my head, falling back into a hug and resting my head against his shoulder. I can feel my eyes beginning to fill with water, but I push it away before meeting his eyes again. "I got it."

When I let him go, I turn to see Cam standing by his Jeep again. He and my brother are sharing some type of unspoken agreement as Cam steps forward, swinging his arm around my shoulder and walking me toward his car.

I give my brother one last look, watching as he grabs his few bags, turning toward the airport doors and slowly disappearing inside. That heavy weight presses against my chest, the erratic beat pounding against the tightened walls.

Not now, Mackenzie.

I don't know how to do this next part, how to face my senior year without my brother by my side.

Breathe. You'll be okay.

Not now.

Taking a broken breath, I pull in a gulp of air, letting it swim around my ribcage before exhaling and trying again. Each and every cycle of air is controlled and focused on with precision as I calm the fluttering beat of my heart.

That's it. One more.

Push it away.

Swallowing the jagged lump in my throat, I climb into Cam's Jeep, pushing aside the wavering pain that pricks at my eyes, just like I do each and every time I feel myself crumbling.