Chapter 1

The morning light crept in slowly, like it didn't want to disturb anything.

Sia was still asleep.

She always slept like this, curled into her grandmother like she had been doing since she was small enough to fit in her arms completely. Even now, at eighteen, she found her way there. Every night, without thinking. Her grandmother's side of the bed was the safest place she had ever known. Warmer than any blanket. Quieter than any quiet. She pressed her face close and held on, the way she had always held on, since the very beginning.

Mr. Vyne stood at the door.

He had come to wake her. That was the plan. But now he was just standing there, looking at the two of them, his wife, his granddaughter, tangled together in the early morning light. His little doll. That's what she had always been to him. His little doll, who used to chase the cat around the garden and fall asleep on his chest during long car rides and call his name out first whenever she was scared.

She was leaving today.

He had known this day was coming for months. Had told himself he was ready. Had even practiced, in his own quiet way, being okay about it.

He was not okay about it.

"Sia."His voice came out softer than he intended. "Wake up, baby. You'll be late. You have to catch the train."

Nothing.

Sia slept the way only Sia could sleep, deeply, completely, like the world had made an agreement with her to leave her alone for a few more hours. Getting her up was never easy. It had never been easy. Her grandmother used to say that Sia could sleep through a thunderstorm and wake up annoyed that someone had opened a window.

Mr. Vyne walked in. He sat down at the edge of the bed, close to her. He reached out and touched her forehead first, then her hair, slow and gentle, the way you touch something you are afraid of losing.

"Sia. Wake up."

She moved. Just a little. A small shift, a quiet sound. Then her eyes opened, slowly, reluctantly, and she saw him.

Her grandfather. Sitting right there. His eyes full. So full that it was almost embarrassing how close he was to the edge of it.

Sia blinked. Rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. Looked at him, her cute, masculine grandpa, with his big hands and his serious face that was absolutely, completely, about to fall apart.

She opened her arms.

He picked her up. All of her, like she was small again, like no time had passed at all, and he held her, and then he was crying. Loudly. Openly. The kind of crying that doesn't care how it sounds.

Sia pulled back just enough to look at his face. She brought her hands up and wiped his cheeks, one side, then the other. Her expression was soft, warm, and then she started laughing. Not cruelly. Never cruelly. Just the way you laugh when someone you love is being so earnest and so themselves that your heart doesn't know what else to do.

"Grandpa,"she said, still laughing, still wiping his tears.

He kept crying.

She kept laughing.

And the morning light kept coming in, slow and quiet, like it had all the time in the world.

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