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Sam pulled up to the house, surprised at the collection of cars still crowding the drive. Aunt Mal lived in the countryside, and the nearest neighbour was miles away, so it wasn’t like they had to keep the noise levels down for anyone, but his family weren’t exactly big partiers.

Sam tucked Mal’s present under his elbow as he pushed open the front door. Music played in the distance, audible through the walls, and a loud hum of voices came from the kitchen.

Sam nodded to a few cousins who passed him in the hall on the way to the bathroom and noted a usually very sober, straight-laced cousin stumbling over, drunk. “You good, Abby?” Sam asked.

Abby nodded. “Work tomorrow, so I’m heading home.”

“You’re not walking, are you? I’m not drinking. I can drive you.”

“Mom’s outside.” Abby gave Sam a tight hug. “You love like fish.”

Sam blinked. “Come again?”

“You smell like fish. Love you,” someone translated. Sam looked up to see Mary in the doorway leading to the kitchen. Behind her, the room was jammed, family members crowding the kitchen table, playing some sort of card game.

“That’s the one,” Abby confirmed. “Night, guys.”

Sam waited, watching to make sure Abby got safely out of the house and into the car waiting for her outside. He was aware of Mary’s piercing look. “What’s the big deal?” Sam finally acknowledged her.

“Did you read any of the texts I sent you?” Mary demanded in a hiss. Her curly red hair was pulled into a ponytail so tight it sharpened the angle of her eyes.

“Yes,” Sam lied. He cringed internally at the small fib. Reading at night was hard . The glare from the phone screen was so piercing when everything else was subdued, and his brain just hated making sense of what he was looking at. Not to mention he was tired. Tired made everything worse.

“I hate how you never reply,” Mary grumbled. She grabbed his elbow and guided him into the kitchen. He glimpsed a tattooed stranger shaking up cocktails at the counter, then Mary ushered him onto the back porch.

The music rose in volume as they stepped outside. The back garden had become a family rave, the porch a smoke den, and everywhere in between was filled with people drinking and chatting. The younger cousins, who ranged from five to nine years old, zoomed around like lunatics.

Sam blinked at the chaos, an involuntary smile tugging at his lips. “Did someone get married?”

“It’s wonderful,” Mary said.

“Seriously, is there a wedding? A funeral, a wake?” Sam spitballed.

“Everyone just showed up.” Mary shrugged. “ Including …” She bumped Sam to look toward a group at the edge of the porch. There was another stranger there, leaning against the railing. Amongst the uncles, he was the only person without a cigarette or vape. Like the man inside that Sam didn’t recognise, this one had tattoos covering almost every inch of skin. A T-shirt left exposed coiled branches, birds and leaves twisting over muscle and sinew.

Sam admired the way the images intertwined and overlapped.

“Those look great,” Sam said, accidentally speaking over Mary.

She blinked. “What does?”

“His tattoos.”

“Right?” a man agreed, enthused.

Sam twisted to find the tattooed guy from inside at his back, holding two colourful cocktails in tall glasses. An array of geometric patterns seemed to crawl over his olive-toned skin, and Sam’s brain melted into goo as he looked.

“Wow,” he said.

The man laughed. His hair was a rich caramel, his eyes a similar brown. “Here.” He offered a drink to Sam and Mary. “Everyone else has gotten their cocktails, so I am standing down for an hour. I need to mingle for a bit, not just serve.” His gaze moved to Sam and stuck. “We haven’t met yet. I’m Ivan.” His smile was friendly, but there was an oddness in the way he studied Sam; his eyes were a warm shade, but Sam didn’t feel any of the warmth as they fixed on him, as if seeking something specific in Sam’s face. Whatever it was, Sam didn’t think Ivan found it.

Mary opened her mouth, practically vibrating in her spot.

“Don’t be weird.” Another unfamiliar voice came from behind. Ivan’s smile faded as he shot an irritated look over Sam’s shoulder.

“I’m introducing myself.”

“I saw you smile.”

“It’s normal to smile when you’re introducing yourself.”

“No, it isn’t.” The other tattooed stranger joined them, a scowl firmly in place. Yellow light from the porch shone on his tattooed arms, letting Sam get a better look at the birds flying across his skin: wrens and finches and robins. When he flexed his elbow, the Willie wagtail wagged his tail. A smile crooked up the corners of Sam’s mouth. He lifted his gaze to the man’s face, who looked familiar. Ish. Like a distant-relative familiar. His hair was rusty red, like Sam’s, and his eyes were green, hardly a shade off his own. Definitely a cousin.

Sam slid Mary a look, subtly seeking an introduction, and when she noticed it, her eyes widened in surprise.

“ Sam ,” she hissed, gesturing not at all subtly to the familiar stranger.

The man stared right at him. Sam racked his memory, but his mind turned up empty. He was tired. It was late. He was getting nothing. “Sorry. I’m sure from Mary’s face that I should know you, but I’m drawing a total blank,” Sam admitted.

Ivan choked on air, and the man’s expression changed. Hurt flared in his eyes, and his lips pressed together tight enough to whiten. Seconds passed before the man’s mouth relaxed and his expression turned blank, the hurt vanishing everywhere except from his eyes.

“I’m Eric,” he said.

Even at that, Sam didn’t know immediately. And then it struck him, and he drew in a surprised breath.

Ivan plucked Mary’s drink away from her and swallowed a long gulp.

Mary freed Sam’s drink from his tense fingers and did the exact same thing, and he wished she hadn’t because the cool drink would have helped fight the heat washing over his face in a wave.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said.

“That was a little cold-blooded,” Mary whispered.

“I haven’t seen him since I was, like, two,” Sam defended himself.

“Ten,” Eric corrected.

“Like, twenty years have passed,” Sam continued.

“Ten,” Eric corrected.

Sam glared at him, but his face was so damn hot he knew he was red all over. His complexion never hid anything. He refocused his ire on Mary. “You couldn’t give me a heads-up?”

“I texted you like twenty times! And you said you read them when you arrived.” Her eyes narrowed.

“I was busy.”

“Doing what?”

Painting the vainest creature on the planet. “Nothing. Boat stuff.”

“ Boat stuff. You’re a terrible liar.” Mary’s narrowed eyes filled with suspicion. “Were you hanging out with Connor again?”

Sam groaned. “ No .”

“I’ve told you so many times he’s bad news, and I have been proven right over and over—”

“He was acquitted, Mary. All the charges were dropped. In fact, he was the victim—”

“He’s still a grade-A asshole.” Mary downed the rest of her drink. “ That is what I am always proved right about.”

Connor wasn’t an asshole, but Mary would never see that. Not after everything Sam went through a few summers back because of him. He just sighed. “Think what you want.”

“I will.”

“Great.”

“Because I’m right.”

“Whatever,” Sam said.

There was a pause, and the silence between them was filled with music, laughter and the thrum of people talking. Sam became aware of Ivan and Eric standing in silence. Ivan hid a smile behind his drink, and even Eric looked faintly amused. At least Sam thought he did. He didn’t smile like Ivan, but there was a softening around his eyes.

Mary huffed and faced Ivan. “Can you show me how to make that?” She nodded at her empty glass.

Ivan glanced at Eric, who nodded, before he said, “Sure.”

Sam watched them walk away. He cast a glance to the nearest group, but they were jiving in the grass and his silent plea for help went unnoticed.

“I guess Dad never talks about me.” Eric broke the silence. Sam glanced at him, and Eric met his eyes. “If you didn’t even remember you have a brother.”

“It’s been a long time,” Sam pointed out. “And Dad doesn’t do much talking these days.”

Eric cocked his head, and he scanned the garden before he eyed up the door Sam had entered through. “Why is that?”

Sam watched Eric looking around. Acknowledged his seeking gaze. “He’s not here,” Sam told him.

“Fixing nets?” Eric asked.

Sam waited until Eric’s gaze settled back on him.

“No,” Sam said. He knew that bad news should be delivered with care and thoughtfulness, but Eric’s tone was…not critical, exactly. But amused in almost a mocking way. He couldn’t recall Eric – so anything of his personality was beyond Sam – and he had no recollection of how or if he’d gotten along with their dad. But he could interpret that tone. Whatever Eric was here for, it wasn’t a loving reunion of any kind. And that, put together with his long absence, told Sam that this bad news wouldn’t hit anywhere soft. “He’s got dementia. His memory is pretty bad most days. He’s not fit for working anymore.”

Eric’s green eyes stayed steady on Sam, and he was the one to look away. He gestured to the party. “This kind of chaos would be a nightmare for him, so if you want to see him…” Sam’s mouth shut before he suggested Eric swing by the house . The very idea sent a shiver down his spine. “Why are you here? If it’s to reconnect with him, it’s a bit late for that. And honestly, you’d probably get him all worked up, so I’d rather you didn’t go see him.” Eric’s gaze felt damning, burning the side of his face. “Not that I can stop you.”

“You don’t like me.”

“I don’t remember you,” Sam said, not feeling apologetic for it this time.

Eric’s weight shifted from one foot to the other. “You weren’t that young when I left,” his voice sounded accusing now. “I used to bring you to get ice cream almost every day during the summer. We’d walk into town together. We’d play Uno most days, do our homework together, work on puzzles. I even played twister with you.” Eric snorted. “Even though I hated that stupid game, you were obsessed. It was always ‘ please, Eric’ , and then you’d give me those puppy dog eyes, and I’d have no choice.”

Sam’s head started to hurt right behind his eyes. Usually he got headaches like this when he tried too hard to read texts late at night.

Sam’s childhood was school. Bullies. Struggling with homework. And then going out on the boat with his dad, learning from him, until his dad’s mental health declined to the point where he couldn’t leave the house and Sam was doing it all alone. There was no Eric in any of those memories. In fact, he was sure now he only knew about Eric because his aunties had talked about him before. Once or twice. Wondering about where he was and if he was alive.

“Where did you end up?” Sam asked.

“The next county over. Inland. Away from the coast.”

“You didn’t get very far.” For some reason, though Sam didn’t remember it, he knew that Eric had run away. That he hated it here. Hated it so much he never wanted to come back. “Why are you back now?”

Eric shifted his weight again. “I’m sorry that I left you behind, Sam. I didn’t want to, but I had to get away before I lost my mind. I get that you’re angry, and I deserve it, but—”

“I’m not angry,” Sam said. His head ached even worse now, the pounding stemming from somewhere deep in the base of his skull. “I’m not pretending to forget you to hurt your feelings. I wouldn’t do that.” Sam frowned. “I just…” He shrugged. He should be gentle and kind because despite not remembering him, he could see the hurt in Eric’s eyes. But the headache that had formed so solidly made it difficult to think of how to be either of those things.

“That’s worse,” Eric said.

“I just said I’m not angry.”

“Because you don’t remember my existence in the first place.”

Sam bit the inside of his cheek. Okay. When Eric put it like that, it did sound worse. “So, you came back to reconnect?” He pushed past the awkwardness to speak.

“I…” Eric looked like he had a lot he wanted to say. “I wanted to see you. Yeah. Make sure you’re doing okay.”

“I’m doing fine,” Sam said.

“Aside from your terrible memory,” Eric muttered. This time the note of hurt was clearer. He cast his gaze aside as his shoulders crept up.

Guilt prodded Sam’s insides. It wasn’t on purpose, but he’d clearly just stomped all over Eric’s feelings. “I’m sorry.” Awkwardness thickened the air between them.

“You don’t need to be sorry. It’s not something you can help. I just didn’t realise I was so insignificant that my baby brother wouldn’t even remember me.” Bitterness laced every word.

“All caught up?” Ivan interjected. A moment later, Mary rejoined them too, peering up into Sam’s face, probably seeing the unhappiness and the tension.

She frowned. “I was going to give you this, but if you’ve got another one of those headaches, you shouldn’t drink.”

“I’ve got classes in the morning anyway; I wasn’t planning on drinking.” Sam shrugged.

“Hm. I know even if I tell you to take a break, you won’t, but if it’s bad, maybe you should turn in early? Mom won’t mind.” Mary gave Eric the extra drink. “Eric, maybe you could meet me and Sam for lunch tomorrow? If you don’t mind driving to campus?”

“Sounds great,” Ivan agreed readily. He had placed his hand on Eric’s shoulder, and Sam assumed that the move comforted Eric because some of the tension eased from his body. “I’ll drop him out.”

“You have a headache? Do you need painkillers?” Eric asked, his focus never wavering from Sam.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. “I’m all good; I’ve got some in the car. I’m going to give Mal her present and wish her a happy birthday.” He hesitated a second, briefly meeting Eric’s expectant gaze before averting his own. “Nice to see you,” he said. He caught himself just before saying, ‘Nice to meet you’.

Sam broke away from them, needing to escape. Mary caught up to him within a second. “I’m sure you have plenty to say,” he said, already imagining the lecture he was about to receive. How could you treat your brother like that? What’s wrong with you? But Sam could argue back, couldn’t he? Was it really his fault for not knowing him when he’d left and never visited when Sam was a kid?

“No.” Mary frowned. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. I know him being here was just sprung on you. Though it wouldn’t have been if you’d read my texts…but okay, I get it. The phone would make a headache worse, so you probably didn’t want to look at it. Sam.” She grabbed his wrist and made him stop.

Sam’s head ached like crazy. He wanted to just lie down and pass out somewhere. His boat would be ideal. But he needed to make sure there was enough food in the house for his dad…He had to go home tonight.

“Don’t write him off,” Mary said. “I know he left, but before he did…Eric spoiled you. And you know I hold people accountable for their actions even if they say sorry, so the fact that I think you should give him a chance should tell you a lot.”

“A chance for what?”

Mary raised her hands, making an ‘ I don’t know’ gesture. “To get to be your brother again? To support you? Spoil you again, maybe? I’d like it if that’s how it went, but I can’t force anything. If he hurts you, I’ll chase him off. You have my word.”

Sam just sighed. He tilted back his head, looking away from those wide, begging eyes. “My head is killing me, Mary.”

“Give me that. I’ll give Mom her present; you go home, take some painkillers and sleep. Do you want me to drive you? I can drive you,” Mary offered, and Sam was sorely tempted to duck out early. He might have grown up with Mary more like a sister than a cousin, but despite his mom passing away early Aunt Mal had never taken on a motherly role for Sam. That was fine, course. Sam had never wanted her to do more than she had, but it did mean there was enough emotional distance between them that Sam didn’t feel the pressing need to be remain for her party.

“And what drink are you on?” Sam asked.

“Oh. Yeah, shoot, forgot. I am sure I can find someone sober to bring you home.” Mary started looking around. When her eyes found their way to Eric and Ivan, the pair still in the spot with their heads bent together, Sam bumped her. “I’ve got it, Mary. I am going to head home, though. You’re not mad at me for flaking out?”

“Of course not,” Mary said. She hugged him tightly. “I’ll text you what time to meet Eric and me tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Sam said, resigned.

Sam ended up dropping a few cousins home before driving back to his own house. He was a few miles inland, and his view of the ocean was blocked by huge rhododendron shrubs that had spread and grown unchecked for years, thriving in the acidic soil. He shut off the engine of his car and gazed at the bungalow he called home. The lights were all out, but that was expected since it was well past midnight. The curtain in the living room peeled back, the inside of the house pitch black through the gap. It stayed open a second before falling back into place. Sam frowned. His dad should be in bed by now. Had he been waiting up for him?

Sam dug out his painkillers. The bottle was full, so instead of pouring out two, he accidentally shook out five. He hesitated only a moment before swallowing them all. Dragging his feet, he gathered up the shopping bags from the passenger seat and ambled toward the front door.

It was unlocked.

Sam’s hand rested on the door handle for a long time, his body not responding to his mind telling it to push it down. Skin clammy, Sam swallowed hard. “Dad,” he said, his voice cracking. He pushed down the tarnished copper handle. “I’m home.”

Sam opened the—