I didn't intend to let myself go with Billie. I knew the clock was ticking. Knew deep down what my parents' early return meant, even if I wasn't ready to admit it. Instead of holding back, I filled every hour I could with her. She came to The Chapel – now the official name of my house- while Gracie was out and we passed the days together, going for walks, swimming in the pool, watching movies in the evening. We talked until we were exhausted, never seeming to run out of stories to tell or things to discuss. We listened to music and talked about the bands, getting brave enough to sing along once we'd had a few ciders or beers (courtesy of Gracie stocking up the house). Only when our throats were hoarse and our eyes were tired would we go to bed, exploring physically what we could no longer express with words.

And still, I felt there was more to know. Instead of learning everything about her, she became more of a mystery the more she shared. Like a never-ending web, the pattern growing more intricate the more detail she let me see.

I let myself get used to her. The initial awkwardness faded and with it the fear that something would go wrong. That something would trip us up. Reveal what we'd found was just an illusion. Once that was gone, I started to see her as a certainty. She would always be here. .Whenever I rolled over in the night, her body would be next to mine. Whenever I picked up the phone, her voice would be at the other end. The sound of her bike wheels on the dirt track outside would always accompany mine. There'd never be a silent breakfast again. The sound of her singing in the shower would start every morning. I didn't realise I believe all these things until it was too late. I had let my guard down. Convinced myself the pain would be worth it. It's easy to do that when you forget how the pain feels. In the same way we forget the stinging bite of cold in the summer, it's impossible to remember heartbreak in the height of happiness.

For me, heartbreak came in the form of two people I loved. Two people I'd have given anything to bring home early before Billie. Before her, the message I knew they were bringing would have meant joy. Healing. The thing I'd wished for since I was a little boy. But 'before her' was gone. I could never be that person again. And suddenly joy was terror. Wishes were nightmares. Excitement was fear.

The day they returned was a normal day. The sun shone in its usual way. I woke up next to Billie, pressed myself against her, and listened to her sigh. For the first few seconds of consciousness, everything was right. The birds sang. Our legs intertwined. Gracie's footsteps sounded from somewhere inside the house, reassuring me she was safe. I held onto the contentment as long as I could, but it slipped away with sleep, making room for a heaviness in my gut that didn't make sense until I snapped my eyes opened and remembered the date.

I dropped Billie from my arms and got up, dressing as if I had somewhere to be. I kept my back to her, sensing her eyes on me as I pulled my t-shirt over my head. I knew she could tell something was wrong. It was in the air, something shifting, as if summer had come to a sudden end, the cold snap of autumn turning up unannounced and far too early.

"Breakfast?" I said. I tried to sound normal but my voice stuck in my throat, making me sound strangled.

"Are you okay?"

Her voice was so light-hearted. Amused and oblivious. She thought I'd make a joke and go back to normal. She thought there was nothing to worry about. That my being weird had a simple explanation.

I still couldn't look at her. I couldn't pretend she was right. It would only make it worse later. She'd never forgive me for giving her false hope. I'd hurt myself too if I started to believe it.

"I'm fine," I said, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling on some socks. "My parents are coming back today. I just... it might be good if you go soon."

I looked at her then and saw the blow land. I'd hurt her, but what felt worse was the way she tried to cover it. She smiled, but her eyes were wide, the shock of my bluntness replacing their usual fire.

"Okay. I'll get ready and go," she said, pulling herself from the bed.

She hunted around for her clothes, wrapping her body in a spare blanket. It was the first time she'd tried to hide from me that way, and it hurt.

I stood up, deciding I had to make it better. I didn't want to do it like this. Even if the worst happened... Not like this.

"I'm sorry," I said, a rush of warmth passing through me. "It's not that I don't want you here, it's just... we haven't seen them for a while. Lots to catch up on."

Her eyes flickered, a small flame lighting up.

"I understand," she said, and I knew that she did.

I couldn't stop myself from walking over. Couldn't stop myself from taking her in my arms and kissing her.

You'll pay for this later. You'll both pay...

"Thanks for getting it," I said, brushing her hair behind her ears. She squeezed me on the back, her cheek pressed into my shoulder. When she tried to pull away, I held onto her, memorising the feeling before it was time to let go.

Hours later, I sat in the local pub, the smell of roast beef and hot potatoes taking me back to lazy childhood days, the smell of stale beer in the air. It was too hot for cooked food, but Dad had insisted. He'd been away for too long and missed English food. And so we sat around the table in our Sunday best, ignoring the beads of perspiration that formed on our backs. Only Logan was comfortable, his white t-shirt out of place among our collared shirts and blazers. I looked at him with envy. He could get away with it. I didn't have the luxury.

Dad cleared his throat, the light catching his cufflinks as he handed wine glasses around the table. I watched him, his face unfamiliar and yet so familiar. There were lines around his eyes that weren't there when I last saw him. More grey threads had appeared in his dark hair. But somewhere in his face was the man who swung me up onto his shoulders. The man who kicked footballs around the garden and taught me how to set up a tent. The man who took me on his boat and let me stare out at the sea. Next to him, the vastness didn't seem so terrifying. Sea monsters, tsunamis, pirates, they'd all run from him. Next to him, I was safe.

I tried to find that feeling again. Looked for it in his eyes. But all I saw was tiredness, the glimmer of wine extinguishing whatever emotion there might have been.

"Careful, Joey," Gracie said as Dad poured my wine. "He'll make you an alcoholic before you're even legal."

Dad chuckled.

"That ship has sailed, I fear," he said, filling my glass halfway. "No thanks to you buying beer for your underage brother."

"It's not for him," Gracie protested, her cheeks turning red. "It's for the house. We have to do something while you're away..."

"Yes, it's become quite the party house over there, so we hear. Mr McCutcheon keeps an eye for us. Lets us know what goes on when our backs are turned..."

"As long as you're being safe. Cleaning up afterwards," Mum interjected. She spun the stem of her glass between her fingers, sloshing the red liquid this way and that. She was nervous. Her willingness to overlook our parties was out of character. A wave of sickness passed over me. I put my own glass to my lips and drained half of the wine in one gulp.

Logan looked at me from the side, his cool demeanour slipping. Whatever I was giving off, he was picking up on. I felt the urge to get up and run. To escape from the oppressively hot air and sit outside, the breeze on my back, my parents and their off-key voices left behind.

Why were they doing this now? In front of Logan, too, knowing what it would do to him?

"What's going on?" Gracie said, voicing the fear I could not.

"What makes you think something's going on?" Dad addressed the menu as he spoke, his eyes sliding up as a young waitress walked by.

"I can tell something's up." Gracie's eyes flashed between our parents, demanding answers. "You might as well tell us."

Dad cleared his throat and put the menu down with a slap. Mum put her hand on his arm, talking to him in a low voice.

"Darling, we said we wouldn't... Not until we've eaten."

Dad sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Gracie had forced his hand. She wouldn't let it go. He knew better than to come up against her stubbornness.

"Fine," he said, defeated by her gaze. "I suppose we'd better come out with it."

He looked at Logan, his tiredness replaced with the deepest look of sorrow I'd seen him wear since the day our Nana Eliot, his mother, passed away.

I sat up straight. Clenched the edges of my chair.

Here we go...

I knew what he was going to say before he said it, but I hung onto every word anyway, hoping I could change what came out of his mouth by sheer will.

"As you know, my work has kept me away far more than I would like. It's always been that way. But since Jackie started coming with me, it's been. Well, it's been hard for our family."

Logan bowed his head. He had always been one of us. It went without saying. But now, he was unsure if he belonged. This talk didn't seem to address him, and that hurt more than what my dad was about to say.

"We've given it some thought. And well. Gracie and Joe, we'd like for you to join us. Out in Greece and then Italy, then maybe France. I've got a few projects in the pipeline. We can spend the year together travelling before you go off to Uni, Joe. And Gracie, maybe you can take a year out. Intermit from your degree or whatever they call it. And Logan can come and visit too. In every holiday. What do you say, Logan? How does that sound? Christmas in the South of France?"

Our silence was louder than if we'd all shouted. Yelled in rage and shock. My fury was insurmountable. Where was this ten years ago? Where was this when it really hurt? When our mother spent her evenings crying into the phone, cursing our father, telling her friends she was sure he had a different woman in each country. He didn't offer this then. Not when it suffocated us. Nearly broke what fragile sense of family we had. But now. One year before I left school. One year before I became an adult. Two weeks after I'd met Billie.

"What about exams?" Logan said, the only one of us who could speak. "Joe needs to pass his A levels, or he can't go to Uni."

"We've already spoken to the school. Joe would be tutored while we were travelling and then he can come back to take his exams next summer. We'll have to pay for them, but it's worth it. We think it's worth it, anyway..."

I looked at my sister, hoping to find some comfort in her face, but she wasn't there. She was frozen, her brow drawn together as she tried to process this. Tried to understand.

"What about Billie?"

I spun around to look at Logan, my mouth hanging open. He stared at me blankly, his expression impossible to read.

What the hell are you doing?

"Son?" Dad probed me. It was the first time a girl had been mentioned in an official way. Even during my time with Ingrid, I'd never referred to her as anything other than 'a friend'. Logan had always kept my secrets. His decision to betray me now was unthinkable. Did he think my parents would change their mind because of a girl I'd known for two weeks? Did he think she would justify my staying? That they would let it go without a word? Or did he just want to hurt me? Maybe he felt I'd betrayed him. Maybe he knew that I'd worked this out before it happened. That I didn't warn him.

"Who's Billie?"

My mother was sad. Quiet. The softness in her voice stirred something in me. The heaviness of all she'd missed since joining Dad abroad sat between us. I didn't blame her for it. He'd given her little choice. Stay here and lose everything, or leave us and try and hold it together. It wasn't her fault. My sympathy for her reawakened my ability to use my voice.

"She's... a girl I know. She's... I... We've been spending a bit of time together this summer..."

My desperation seemed to snap Gracie from whatever trance she was in. She cleared her throat. Redirected the table's attention.

"Billie's lovely. She's been good for Joe. He's been happy. Happier than I've seen him in a while."

"You've met her?" Mum said.

"Yes. She's been around the house a lot."

Which you would know if you were there too. If you were where you should be...

"Well..." Dad said after a few seconds dragged past. "I'd like to meet her."

"You should invite her for dinner," Mum added, a spark of emotion in her eyes. "Before we..."

She trailed off, the end of her sentence unsayable. The tension broke. My rage took over. I gave it a voice. Let it out. Ignored the hushed stares of the people around us. I could see nothing but my anger.

"What's the point?" I snapped. "What's the point of inviting her for dinner? You've already decided everything, haven't you? Decided it for us. Just like always..."

"Joe..."

My father's gruff voice settled me down. Put me in my place. I bowed my head, my legs shaking as rage turned to sadness. To defeat.

"I know this is a shock. I know it's sudden. But it's going to be good for us all. You know it is. And as for this Billie, you might be leaving soon, but it's still worth getting to know her. Maybe she can come out and visit us with Logan. Besides, I want to lay eyes on the girl who's made my son happy. Is that so wrong?"

"Of course not," Mum said, smiling thinly. "You'll invite her, won't you, Joe?"

"Fine." I nodded, ignoring the whirring in my head. "I'll invite her next week. "

Dad patted me on the back. An attempt to reclaim the moment. Make it normal. The way other fathers who had watched their children grow up would respond to the situation.

Gracie looked at her lap. Mum poured another wine. Logan threw silent apologies at me across the table.

He realised what he'd done, but it was too late. His clawing desperation wasn't enough to stop my anger.

Suddenly we were all strangers. We sat in silence trying to recognise each other, reality rolling in like waves.

And all I could think about was Billie. She trusted me. I was leading her to the slaughter but I couldn't stop.

I got out my phone and typed her a message, hating myself when I sent it. I was betting on a miracle and her happiness was the collateral.

Still, I hoped, against all reason. She was hope to me.

If anyone could bring me a miracle, it was her.