Mom and Dad's house in Hermosa was brand new twenty years ago. Which sounded like a long time ago. But for a house, it wasn't considered old.

Plus, they had regular renovations done to it over the course of its life.

The gated driveway came off the road and went around to the back of the house where it met an internal access four car garage.

The deck surrounded the house. Large and stained so it was rich and weatherproof. The lounge chairs were spread on the back deck and it stepped down into the sand which soon met the water.

Their own private beach.

Mom loves this house. She has fond memories here. I had to hope that Abby couldn't see me as I got out of the uber and jogged up the steps.

The wide windows along the deck opened up to allow indoor outdoor flow. But it was all closed up at the moment. I didn't bother knocking, I punched in the code on the front door and went straight in.

Nothing much had changed. To the left was the kitchen. Open and overlooking the water. An island made of marble countertop sat in the middle of the room.

The appliances were state of the art and had been installed just a few months ago. Half the house could be controlled from the fridge. Smart appliances.

The kitchen followed through into the dining area which also had a sliding door onto a deck on the side of the house.

That was where Lucas, Abby and I ate a lot of our dinners when we were little. We had our own table outside because our meals often ended in food all over the floor. It saved time on clean up.

To the right of the front door was the living room. The sofa had its back to the kitchen and a coffee table sat over a rug.

Another couple of love seats were arranged at opposite ends of the couch and the television was mounted on the wall above the fireplace. Not that the fireplace was ever needed.

Down the corridor in front of me were spare rooms, a bathroom and the internal access for the garage and then of course, upstairs was the master bedroom and more spares.

Mom and Dad still had claims on the master bedroom. No one touched it so it was how they wanted it when they came back.

The decor was bright and open. Luminous with white walls and light timber floors and fixtures.

There were a lot of windows. Almost more than there were walls.

And plants in vases or hanging from the ceiling offered colour. I loved this house. It was hard not to feel relaxed and calm when you were in it.

It was serene.

I began moving towards the floating staircase. It was odd. As if each step was hovering in midair. But before I could go far, Abby appeared from the ground floor bathroom and gave me a quizzical stare.

She did look thin. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed it before.

Her hair was wrapped in a bun at the top of her head. Her cheek bones were prominent. Her collarbones, her shoulders.

She was wearing a tank top and shorts and she immediately began to shift as if she wanted to cover herself up.

"What are you doing here?" She folded her arms.

My poor baby sister. My heart felt like it was shattering. She was so frail. I wondered if she even realised how bad it looked.

"I came to see you," I slipped my hands into my pockets and walked towards her. "You weren't answering my messages or calls."

She smiled but it was tight. It wasn't in her eyes. It wasn't full. She wandered over to the sofa where her robe was draped over the arm and wrapped herself up.

Her thin fingers trembled as she tied off a knot in front of her stomach. "I've been busy," she said. "There's been a lot of work and um— ya know. Just a lot of stuff going on."

I followed her into the kitchen. She seemed so different. There was an entire shift in her demeanour. She was slower. Calmer. Quieter.

This wasn't the same sister I saw less than a month ago in New York.

For a moment, I wondered where Flynn was, but then I figured he would be at football practice.

"Coffee?" She asked, reaching for the mugs on the little stand beside the machine. Her robe sleeve slipped down and revealed her bone thin wrist. My stomach turned.

"Yeah a coffee would be great."

"How's Amalia?"

I sat down on a stool on the other side of the island and slipped out of my coat. It wasn't as cold here as it was at home.

"She's good," I said. "Things feel sort of serious between us. I really care about her. A lot."

Her smile was more full when she turned around to face me. But the fatigue around her eyes and the sallow in her skin was hard to ignore and I tried not to let my concern show.

The more she opened up, the better. She turned back to the coffee she was preparing. Just one.

"That's really good to hear, Max," she sounded genuine. Her fragile voice bounced off the large room.

A slight echo that made her sound so alone. She wasn't alone. I hoped she knew that.

"How about you and Flynn?"

Even with her back to me, I could see the discomfort in my question. It put me on high alert.

If things weren't good with her and Flynn, surely Lucas would have heard about it? I watched the way her shoulders relaxed under her fluffy white robe and then she turned around with a steaming mug of coffee.

"We're great," she said. "He's at practice right now. But things are good. Just the same as usual. You know?"

"Yeah," I slowly nodded as she came around and sat beside me.

She slid the cup over and before she could let it go, I took hold of her hand and held it in both of mine. Her brows pulled in confusion.

"Abby," my throat felt as if it was going to close over. "I'm here. I'm here for you. Not to judge. Not to yell. I want to help. However you need because you do need help, Abby."

She stared at her wrist. I was waiting for the inevitable. For her to start screaming and telling me to mind my own business. I was waiting for her to tell me to get out and never come back.

But she didn't.

When she lifted her head, her green eyes were pooling. She smiled and it was broken.

"I knew that's why you were here," she used her free hand to swipe at the lone tear rolling down her cheek. "Max, I know I'm not doing well. I know, okay? I promise. But I am dealing with it."

"What do you mean?"

"I've seen a therapist. Twice so far. But I have plans to go back," she rested against the lip of the island, using it to support herself as if she couldn't hold up her own weight. "I'm going to get better. Ya know, before it goes too far. I'm making good steps already."

"So why are you still icing Mom and Dad out? Lucas? Milly? They all want to be here as support."

She nodded as she stared down at the countertop. The room was so quiet that I could hear the waves outside. The smell of salt water came in through the open window.

The serenity I often felt here was diminishing, being tarnished by this black cloud of despair that lingers between us.

"I just didn't want them to stress out," Abby finally said, still not looking at me. "I needed to get myself together first. It's fine, Max. I'll call them. Don't get worked up over nothing."

"It's not nothing," I argued, resting my forearm on the cold marble surface. "I mean, how did this even start? You know you're beautiful right? You don't need to do this to yourself."

Her shoulders, prominent and pointed, began to expand with a deep breath. Her leg bounced and she looked at anything in the room except for me.

"I'm getting better, Max. But I don't want to talk about it. Okay? Just leave it alone."

My first instinct with Abby was to back off. As I'd done in the past. We didn't argue much because I knew when to leave her alone and I'd always trusted her choices.

But this was different. I couldn't just leave her alone.

"If you could tell me what triggered the need to starve yourself, maybe we could get talk about it. It might help to tell someone where it began? Is it the modelling stuff?"

"Max," she snapped, her palm slammed down on the counter in front of her. "I'm talking about it with a therapist. I don't need to tell you why I— why I— look, just leave me alone. Please."

"You don't need to tell me, what? Why you have an eating disorder?"

The sound of her stool pushing back on the tile floor echoed through the kitchen. It was like nails on a chalkboard.

I didn't want her to leave. I wanted her to keep on talking. She was attempting to convince me she was getting help but she couldn't even put her condition into words.

Shouldn't it have been easier to discuss if she knew she had a problem?

Maybe not. There was a lot I didn't understand. But I wanted to try.

"Abby," I stood up to follow her as she rounded the kitchen wall and started up the stair case. "I didn't mean to push. Please. I just want to help."

"Yeah and I already said, I don't need it from you."

"Fine," I pleaded, my palm leaned against the wall, one foot on the bottom step. I felt unsteady because the further she got, the more I could feel my chance slipping. "I won't help. We'll just hang out. Let's go out and do something. We don't have to talk."

She stopped a step down from the top floor. With her back to me, I heard her exasperated exhale.

It was an agonising few moments. I hoped if she softened while we hung out, it'd be enough that she'd talk to me. She could let me know where this whole thing started and why.

Maybe I'd know how to help her. Maybe I wouldn't. But if I didn't, I would find someone who did know.

I wasn't going to lose her to this disease. The thought of it made me ill.

"Fine," she turned around. "But I'm not going out. We can have lunch here. You could go and get it."

"Oh, could I?" I wandered back to the kitchen and heard the soft barely there whisper of Abby's socked feet trailing behind me. "Can I take your car or do I have to take an Uber? And what do you want to eat?"

"Sheesh, enough questions," Abby slid back on to the barstool she'd abandoned moments earlier. "You're not an errand boy anymore, Max. You can relax. I'll have whatever. A vege burger and fries maybe. You choose."

"How do you make a riddle out of telling me what you want for lunch?" I slid my coat on. The silk lining was cool on my exposed arms. "I can't choose what you eat. That doesn't make a lot of sense."

She gave me a flat stare and because I didn't want her to change her mind, I sighed and gave her an all obeying bow.

It still felt strained. Forced almost. But I was doing my best to make things as normal as possible between us.

By the time I got back from town with an assortment of options. Vege burgers, salads and some hot food, Abby was dressed in a long sleeve, floor length dress.

The fabric was thin. A summer dress. But it was still hiding more of her body than she usually hid. I decided not to comment on it.

The speaker system had been turned on and soft tunes came from the ceiling while I unpacked lunch on to the countertop.

My thoughts turned to Amalia for a moment. I wondered what she was going to have for lunch.

Perhaps she'd go out. I hoped she didn't stay locked up in the hotel room all day.

I sat down after I'd laid all of the food out and subtly watched Abby as she dragged a salad towards her.

My head remained down as I picked up the burger I'd ordered but from my peripheral, I noticed her tear the lid off and stab her fork in before shoving an assortment of colourful vegetables into her mouth.

I felt stupid for focusing on it so hard. I mean, she had to eat sometimes. Even if it wasn't much. Otherwise she'd be dead.

Maybe I should invite her out for dinner as well.

"Do you ever miss school?" She suddenly said, swallowing her mouthful. "Like, not the school work. Or the teachers. But seeing everyone all the time. The social part."

I held the burger between my fingers and thought about it for a moment. "Na. Not really," I said and took a bite.

"Suppose it wasn't your thing. Socialising. Lucas misses it. He's always trying to get everyone together again. The team and his friends."

"You both have terrible memories to be honest," I laughed and leaned an elbow on the marble, watching her. She was still eating. "Going to school with Lucas used to make you violent and Lucas. . . well no. High school probably was his kingdom."

"Duh," she mumbled with a mouthful. "Yeah, he did drive me insane. But I still enjoyed school. Just not as much as him."

I nodded and thoughtfully chewed on my food while I stared straight out ahead at the window. The blue ocean rippled outside. White tips of wave looked like clouds among the blue sky.

"Oh," I turned to her. "I did like summer camp. Those were good."

"Again, not as much as Lucas," she mysteriously shook her head and scraped the last of the salad on to the fork. "Or Shane. Remember him? I wonder what he's up to now."

"Hang on," I twisted on the stool and gave her a curious stare. "Do you know what happened at that summer camp? Because I don't. I heard little comments about summer camp for so long. Something Shane and Lucas did. But no one told me. He wouldn't either."

She chewed on the tip of her fork. Her smile was laced with guilt and gleam. "I mean, I do know. But I'm not supposed to know."

I wasn't a gossiper. But I couldn't deny that I really wanted to know what happened at this damn summer camp.

"Did Lucas and Shane like. . . did they hook up or something?"

Abby burst out laughing. She leaned over the island and clutched it with her thin fingers. "I wish I could tell him you said that," she continued to giggle as she straightened up and shook her head. "No, that's not the story. They could have. They were in the right situation for it."

"Just tell me," I picked up a wonton and dipped it in sauce. The crunch echoed in the kitchen while I waited for my sister to spill.

"Okay but swear not tell?"

"Tell who?"

"Anyone!"

"Yeah of course," I said. "I swear."

"Okay well," she lowered her voice as if someone might hear us. "A bunch of the guys and girls snuck out after curfew one evening and went down to that little lake at the bottom of the field where the cabins are—"

"Mhmm," I nodded, understanding what she meant.

"Yeah so they were all drinking and whatever and I obviously don't know all of the details, I wasn't there, so I have no idea how it went from drinking at the lake to . . . well. . . Lucas, Shane and Ingrid having a threesome."

"A threesome? Is that it?"

She laughed. "Well it's more about the fact that Lucas and Shane don't even get along. And Ingrid said it was dirty. Like, double penetration and shit. She said she felt like a porn star. And she didn't say anything about Lucas and Shane doing anything. But who knows."

Lucas wouldn't.

"Wow," I ran a hand over my face. "I'm surprised but at the same time, I'm not."

"Right," she picked up a wonton and nibbled on it. I tried not to react at all. "He's such a little slut."

"Not anymore."

"Mhmm," her eyes were almost crossed as she stared at the deep fried food in her hand and chewed. "It's only a matter of time before he does the same thing with Mills. A threesome I mean. Those two are too freaky not to."

It definitely wasn't something I needed to know about.

We spent a few hours sitting in the kitchen while we talked. It was nice. Things felt more relaxed when I left at around three in the afternoon.

I told her I would be back tomorrow so we could make the most of the weekend. If we kept up our conversation, we might be able to stumble upon something that explains what made her feel the need to stop eating in the first place.