We slipped into the yard and both broke out into a full sprint as we made our way to the small boat dock at the edge of our rural Georgia property.

Kayla stopped with the toes of her tennis shoes on the first slat of wood.

“Come on, Kayla. You’re a big girl now. I have to teach you to fish. Dad is too busy, so it’s my job.” I grabbed the two sticks I’d spent the day working on. Tied to the ends were some old fishing line and plastic bait. I held one out for my sister, who beamed from ear to ear.

“Come on.” I turned and walked to the end of the dock with the pitter-patter of her small feet not far behind me.

We sat on the edge, our feet dangling over the water as we soaked up the hot southern sun. We didn’t catch anything because I knew mom would freak out if I took any of Dad’s hooks for my new poles, but Kayla didn’t mind. She had fun just the same.

“I’m hungry.” Kayla pouted as a warm breeze pushed her dark, shoulder-length curls across her face.

I looked back at the house just beyond the trees. It wasn’t that far. She could sit on the dock alone for the couple of minutes it would take me to run to the pantry and back. “I’ll grab us some crackers if you watch my line.”

Kayla nodded in agreement, and I handed her my stick. I stood, brushing the dirt from my bottom. “Be still, Kayla. No dancing or nothin’ until I get back. Just hold the poles.”

She nodded, peering up at me with her big, sparkly eyes, looking happy and tiny and a little pink already from the sun.

“I’ll get you a hat, too,” I said. I hurried back across the yard and into the kitchen, excited the family would all be there soon.

“No junk food,” my mother warned, her eyebrow raised as she continued prepping for the party.

“I know, Mom.” I grabbed a box of crackers and pulled open the fridge as the front screen door squeaked on its hinges. Dad was home from work.

“Where’s my birthday girl?” he yelled. I could tell in his voice he was tired, but he smiled for Kayla anyway.

“She’s out back playing,” my mother replied.

Dad leaned in and kissed Mom on the cheek before glancing out the kitchen window.

“Where? The swings are empty.”

“She’s on the dock, Dad. I took her fishing.” I walked over to my father, pushing up on my tiptoes to point out the wooden walkway. My smile slowly fell as I looked for my sister. The dock was empty. Only her yellow teddy bear remained.

“John…?” Mom said Dad’s name like she was asking a question. Her voice was thick with worry.

“I told her to be still,” I said. “That I’d be right back.”

“Oh, God,” Mom said.

Dad was already out the door. “She’s not out there!” he screamed as he rushed across the backyard toward the water.

Cake batter splattered up the sides of the cupboards when my mother dropped the bowl she’d held in her hands. She chased after my father while I stood helplessly, watching from the window.

It felt like a lifetime had passed since they’d sprinted out the door. Boy, Kayla was going to be in trouble for not listening to me.

Nerves twisted my belly into knots as I waited to see the mess of dark curls that sat atop my sister’s head. I hoped Dad would still let her eat her cake tonight. I would tell them it was all my fault if they didn’t. I didn’t want to ruin her birthday.

My father’s head broke the surface of the pond, dark circles of water rippling from his body, expanding outward. That was when I saw her. Her tiny body in my father’s arms made her seem like she was still just a baby.

Mom’s bare feet nearly slipped from the dock as she took Kayla from Dad’s arms so he could boost himself up onto the old planks of wood.

Lying her body down on the ground, Dad began to frantically push against her chest. Once in a while, Mom would stop crying and lean down over Kayla’s face. Chills rushed through my body, and I began to shiver, recognizing something was wrong. Kayla wasn't pretending. Mom and Dad were afraid. I’d never seen Dad scared of anything, not even when the Radleys turned their garage into a haunted house two Halloweens ago.

“Come on, Kayla,” I mumbled to myself. Unable to wait, I rushed to the back door and fumbled with the handle.

I hurdled toward them, feeling like I had to do something, anything, to help her. By the time I reached them, Mom was sobbing and covering her face. Dad was slouched over, looking at my baby sister with his hands on his knees and lake water dripping from his chin.

“Is she okay, Dad?”

He didn’t answer.

“What can I do?” I asked, feeling something awful surround me. “Dad? What can I do?”

Dad broke down, his cries harmonizing with Mom’s. I knelt down to hold Kayla’s tiny, cold hand in mine.

“It’s going to be okay, Kayla,” I said.

Mom wailed.

I sat in silence, wishing I could do more. But I had no idea what it was she needed. We were all helpless, sitting around Kayla. Her pretty curls were wet and splayed out on the grass. Tears burned my eyes while I waited for her to wake up, because deep down I knew she wouldn’t.

“Kayla?” I said one last time, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.

Not knowing why we couldn’t save her, and next to my sister on the ground, I promised myself I would never feel helpless again.

With cellophane taped to my freshly inked ribs, I dragged myself back to the apartment, desperate for a few hours of sleep. I knew I wouldn’t have long before Quinn was calling me again, wanting to party, and truth be told, I welcomed a break from reality. The past few days had begun to stir some repressed memories inside me. Kayla’s death was hard enough to relive; the last thing I wanted was for the rest to come back full force.

Falling back on my double bed, I closed my eyes, groaning as Dax jumped across my stomach and snuggled into my side.

I’d gotten a full four hours of shuteye before the heat from Dax’s puppy belly began to make me sweat. It was crazy how such a tiny thing make me could feel like I was under an electric blanket. I tugged off my clothes and groggily made my way to my bathroom, rushing through a warm shower.

As I smeared some ointment on my newest stripe, my phone chimed with a message from Quinn. He texted me a picture of the sign from Corner Hole Bar, and then a second picture. It took me a moment to figure out what it was: the back of Avery’s head.

Smirking to myself, I typed out a quick response, letting him know I’d be right there before changing into a fresh T-shirt and jeans. I headed out into the night, walking faster than I’d ever admit. One thing I loved about the North was the bars were open on Sundays, although Pennsylvania was a weird state where you could only get your alcohol from bars and state stores. It wasn’t like back home in Georgia where I could pick up a six-pack at the gas station.

Corner Hole was full of the usual suspects: doctors and nurses fresh from their shift and a few other third shifters peppered alongside local alcoholics. I nodded at Quinn, who held up a beer before looking to his left. I followed his gaze and locked eyes with Avery, who was laughing at something her friend Deb had said. She tucked her hair behind her ear, her teeth sinking into her lower lip to suppress her wide smile.

I stared at her for a moment, unable to look away. It wasn’t until Quinn stepped into my view that I let the connection be broken.