I remember the first time I realized my daddy was healing.

For years after Sarah, there was this weight on him—like he’d stopped breathing the day she died and only ever took shallow sips of air after that. He was still kind, still Joel, but there was something missing in his eyes. It wasn’t until Mama told him she was pregnant—with me—that I saw that light flicker again. He held her hand like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world, and when he pressed his ear to her belly, I swear he cried. Joel Miller, my daddy, who never let his guard down, wept like the sun was finally coming up after years of darkness. He always said I saved him. But I know the truth—he saved me first.

Mama was brave. She was Tess’s little sister, and if that tells you anything, it’s that stubbornness and grit ran through her blood like fire. Tess wasn’t just my aunt, she was family in the truest, fiercest way. When we left the QZ to smuggle Ellie to the Fireflies, it was all of us together—Mama, Daddy, Aunt Tess, and me. I was just a kid, but old enough to understand how dangerous the world had become. I wasn’t a fighter, not like Ellie or Aunt Tess, but I kept my eyes open. I watched. I listened.

And I liked Ellie right away. She was funny and sharp, had a mouth on her that would’ve made Aunt Tess proud. She was my age, and despite everything she’d been through, she still had this fire in her—like nothing could burn her out. We became best friends fast. She made me laugh even when things were awful. I remember huddling together for warmth in some ruined house, Ellie making stupid jokes, me giggling quietly while Mama pretended to sleep, and Daddy stood guard by the door.

But then… the Fireflies. I’ll never forget what they tried to do to her. To us. I can still see Daddy’s face when he realized what they planned—how they were gonna cut her open like she was a thing, not a person. Not Ellie. He didn’t hesitate. He got to her. He got to me. And he brought us home.

Jackson was home. That’s where I met Uncle Tommy for the first time—Daddy’s little brother. He hugged me like he’d known me forever, called me “kiddo” with that same Texas drawl. Maria was his wife and she ran Jackson with quiet strength. She didn’t smile much at first, but once she warmed up to us, she looked out for me like she’d always been in my life. Ellie and I were inseparable again. We were safe. We had family. Things were okay.

Until Abby.

God, Abby. She had arms like tree trunks, this low, calm voice, and eyes that always looked like they were seeing through the bullshit. She reminded me of Ellie in a strange way—fierce, loyal, quick to protect. But where Ellie burned hot, Abby was steady. And she saw me, not just as Joel’s daughter or Ellie’s best friend. Just me. When she smiled at me, it was soft and rare and made me feel like the most important person in the world.

I fell in love with her.

And Ellie hated her.

At first, she acted like it didn’t bother her. But she started pulling away—saying she was busy, avoiding eye contact, brushing off my invitations. She stopped laughing at my jokes. She stopped letting me braid her hair, which I used to do when she couldn’t sleep. Then one day, I found her out by the barn, playing that damn guitar like the world wasn’t falling apart inside me. I stood there listening until the strings went quiet.

“Why her?” she asked, without looking up.

“What?”

“Abby. What does she have that I don’t?”

Her voice cracked like dry earth, and when she finally looked at me, her eyes were glassy, rimmed red. “Even your dad knows I’m better for you.”

I felt like I’d been slapped. I didn’t even know she wanted me like that. Not until it was too late.

I told her I loved Abby. That I needed someone steady. That I needed someone who made me feel safe, not just alive. Ellie laughed—a bitter, broken sound.

I didn’t cry. Not then.