Griffin dragged his fork through the gravy. The rich, brown sauce and tender meat tasted just as good as he remembered. Better even, considering his diet for the last few years consisted of foods that tasted like cardboard and kale. He would've enjoyed the meal more if his sister wasn't trying to murder him with her eyeballs from across the table.

"So, Griffin, when do you start filming?"

Nana's voice was sweet with the slightest tremor, and it washed over him like warm comfort. He'd worried she would treat him differently because of the years spent raising Starling, but her arms had opened as wide as always the moment she saw him.

"Probably not until around Christmas. Pre-production should be complete by then."

"Then why are you here already?"

Griffin chewed on the large piece of roast and tried to formulate a sentence that wasn't laced with malevolence. His outburst in the kitchen the day he arrived was out of character for him, despite what the tabloids might like to report. The hurtful words he'd said about Star's weight couldn't be recalled, only forgiven, and he didn't want to continue adding to the list of things he wished his sister would forgive.

"To go to school. Like I said the day I got here."

"Yeah, well you said a lot of things that day," she snipped, making him groan inwardly.

"I don't remember you being too quiet that day either."

They glared across the table at one another. He broke eye contact first, but only to grab his sweet tea, the glass sweating heavily in the humidity, and lift it to his smirking mouth.

"Mmm, I've missed your tea and cooking, Nana," he said, smacking his lips and looking at Starling's glass of water. "It's a shame Starling doesn't appreciate it."

His sister stabbed a wilted piece of lettuce. A small sliver of roast sat on her plate, wiped clean of the decadent gravy. She'd not eaten any of the soft, red potatoes, opting for the baby carrots instead. Her glass was filled to the brim with water, and she'd squeezed at least three lemons into the liquid.

"Is that another fat joke?" she demanded.

Griffin winced. Not ten seconds after he'd convinced himself he was an ass for making fun of her weight, he'd gone and done it again. Perhaps more subtly than before, but for a person like Starling, whose insecurities could twist every word into poison, it was enough.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and whispered a prayer for patience. And added on a bit about asking the good man upstairs to help his sister see what everyone else saw when they looked at her. How he wished he knew the point she started hating the girl in the mirror or what had triggered that loathing. He'd go back and stop it if he could.

"I want you two to listen to me and listen good." The authority in Nana's voice cracked between the siblings, jerking their spines straighter and turning their eyes to her. "While you two are in my home, you are going to speak to one another with love and respect. Is that understood?"

"But Nana," Starling protested.

"But nothing, Starling Elizabeth. I don't know what happened between you two, but nothing should be so big or so bad that it keeps you from loving one another."

The remainder of the meal was quiet, and when Nana pushed away from the table, asking them to do the dishes so she could take a nap, neither of them objected. But the moment their grandmother was gone, Starling stood up, snatched a handful of dishes off the plate and stormed to the kitchen.

Griffin gathered the few items she'd left behind and followed her. She didn't look at him when he dropped the dishes into the sink, or when he opened the dishwasher and began to load it with the dishes she'd already rinsed.

"You can go," she said as she scraped her nail across something on a serving platter. "I'm sure you've got things to do. People to see."

"You're right."

Griffin knew his sister. They'd shared a womb for thirty-five weeks, a bedroom for eight years, and all their secrets for thirteen years. So even though he could only see her profile, he knew the sudden shift in her mouth meant she was disappointed by his answer. Some part of her had hoped he would argue with her. Whether it was because she wanted him to stay or arguing was the only way they could talk anymore, he didn't know.

But it gave him hope too. Because he missed the girl beside him with a ferocity that kept him awake long into the morning hours, when dawn pushed back indigo skies with fingers of orange and pink. The gnawing ache followed him into his day, and he would find his rare moments of solace filled with wonderings of Starling. 

Most of all, he wondered if she missed him as much as he missed her.

"You're right," he repeated, "which is why I'm here."

She kept twisting a rag over Nana's antique gravy boat. No dishwasher for the family heirloom, and he found himself tracing the inky, blue lines across its white surface. He'd done the same many times before, usually during holidays or when special company visited. Nana saved it for those occasions. It was too delicate and precious for every day use.

And it hit him. She'd brought it out for him. He was special company. Rather than thrilling him, Griffin was sad. It had been easy to forget what he'd given up for his career when he was in the whirl of it, when the bright lights of L.A. or constant travel kept him from dwelling on it. But the gravy boat was evidence he couldn't ignore.

"Why are you here?"

"I just told you-"

"No, why are you in Mississippi? Doing a television show?"

"Lots of big actors do these types of shows now. It doesn't mean I'm not still doing movies. I'm just broadening my audience."

His answer was robotic. Perfect for a press release. It was a lie.

"And it had nothing to do with the fact it was being filmed here?"

No, not in the beginning. I needed to get away. To hide. But now I know how much I needed this. Needed you.

"That was just an added bonus. Regardless of what happened between us, I love you."

"But not enough to fight for me."

She spoke so low he had to lean in to hear her. There was no anger in her tone. Just sadness and defeat. Acceptance.

"I was a kid, Star," he protested. There was no need for her to lean into hear him. He practically shouted every syllable.

"Please," she said, whirling on him. She wiped away a tear, leaving soap suds behind on her cheek. "We were old enough."

"Would you have done the same?" he asked. "

Starling frowned, stepping back from him. "That's not the point, and it won't change anything."

Griffin slapped his hand on the counter. He was ready for this fight. Had been waiting for it for a long time. Mostly because he knew they'd never heal without it, but also because it was a mark he desperately wanted cleared from his name.

"It changes everything. You can't be mad at me if you would've taken the offer too."

"But I never got that chance, did I? You made sure of it!"

Griffin recoiled. "Are we talking about the same thing?"

"I'm talking about the record deal you cut me out of. We were a team!"

"The label wasn't looking for a brother sister duo. It was me or nothing, Starling. We couldn't afford to turn that down."

"I don't know why you're saying we. It was you. You couldn't afford to turn that down."

"No, I couldn't, and you still haven't answered the question. Would you have done the same thing?"

Starling shuddered, her hazel eyes looking anywhere but him. "I don't know! Okay, I don't know. I'd like to think I would, but I don't know. But I would've never, ever sabotaged you like you did me."

"What the hell are you talking about, Star? I signed a deal that was offered to me. What part of that was sabotage?"

She shook her head. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, and she shoved him with damp hands. "I shouldn't have to spell it out for you."

With a sniffle, she slammed the dishwasher door shut, pressed start, and left the room. He started to follow her, but his phone rang. He didn't know the number, but very few people had access to this number.

He answered the phone. "Did you change your number?"

"Well, hello to you too."

"I blocked you because I don't want to speak to you."

"This is ridiculous. We both want to be together."

"No, what I want is you to respect my wishes."

"Fine. I'll try."

"What the hell does that mean?" Griffin snapped. He walked to the swinging door between the kitchen and the dining room. He peered through to the other room, relieved to find it empty. "Don't try. Just do it."

Once more, the line went dead without a goodbye. He didn't bother to block the number, but he didn't add the contact to his phone. Hot tears, twins to Starling's, filled his eyes, and he let them fall.

Couldn't just one thing go right? Or was this the price he was forced to pay for signing that damned contract?