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Miranda’s hands beaded with sweat as she stood on the doorstep of her family home. Words had never been her strong point. Direct and to the point had always been her style. But this wasn’t about her, not entirely at least.

She took in a deep breath, pushed back her shoulders, and gave herself a sharp nod of encouragement.

Even after steeling herself, she waited another beat, and then just one more for good measure.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she muttered and finally rang the doorbell.

There were no obvious sounds from inside, no voices or shuffling, and after waiting five minutes, Miranda pressed the bell again, holding it in for the count of three.

“Oh hey.” Tierney opened the door with a yawn.

Miranda looked at her, eyebrows raising of their own accord. Was she just waking up?

It was five o’clock in the evening, and it looked as though Tierney had slept the entire day. A baggy shirt hung from her shoulders, shoulders free of any bra straps and far thinner than Miranda remembered from before she left, while her legs were hugged by the black leggings Tierney seemed to sleep in no matter how hot or cold the weather got. Her hair was as wild as Rebel’s had been the first day Miranda had picked her up from daycare.

Good, remember this is all about Rebel.

Miranda forced her eyebrows to relax, a far harder feat than she imagined it to be.

“Where are Mom and Dad?”

Tierney looked over her shoulder as though she had been expecting them to be standing right behind her.

“I, um…” She turned back around to face Miranda, eyebrows pulled in toward each other. “I don’t actually know.”

“And that’s a surprise?” Miranda smirked, and Tierney smiled back, though it lacked the usual conspiratorial look they had often shared about their parents’ absenteeism.

“A little bit.” Tierney yawned again and then stepped back, as though only just now realizing she had been standing as gatekeeper to the family home.

Miranda wanted to ask if she’d slept all day, but she bit her tongue, grateful for a loud clatter coming from the kitchen.

She strode, legs taking her as fast as they could without breaking into a run, toward the kitchen. Tierney’s own footsteps followed in her wake. “What’s going on here?”

Before they reached their destination laughter echoed from within.

Miranda bit back another sharp retort, or something far less appropriate, as she stepped into the kitchen to find her parents standing in front of a stove with pans filled with various items sautéing, steaming, and frying.

“Miranda,” Her father called over, waving one hand while lifting the other, spoon clasped between fingers, from a large pot. “Come and taste this for me. You have far better taste buds than either of us.”

“Oh, we aren’t so bad.” Her mother tutted, though she smirked playfully with her husband.

Tierney laughed, and Miranda suddenly found herself on the outside of some joke that made no sense in her world. What was going on? Had her parents suddenly become different people? They seemed almost…happy.

“Tierney, how are you feeling?” Sandra met Tierney on her way to sit at the table, while Miranda obliged her father’s request to taste the mystery dish.

Miranda pulled back from the spoon, waving at her partly opened mouth that was now filled with something spicy and yet lacking flavor. Her entire tongue and throat burned as though she’d eaten straight hot sauce.

“What are you trying to make?” Miranda asked, trying to figure out the tastes on her tongue.

Her father looked crestfallen, and Miranda found her own heart squeezed at the sight. She should have been more considerate in how she’d phrased that, but she’d been so taken aback by what was happening.

“It’s a curry of some sort, right, Sandy?” His eyes were wide as he looked to his wife.

“Yes.”

Emmitt clung to a hope he obviously found in her words.

“All right, good start.” Miranda could do this. She had time and didn’t want to rush any of them. “We just need to balance the herbs and spices a bit. Any more coconut milk?”