"Mama, I'm not gonna have this argument with you again," Tatum Coombe-Tennant said annoyed as she continued packing her suitcase. Her mother, Maya Coombe, was flapping around her, trying to make her see sense.

They received a letter from a lawyer last week, telling them that Maya's ex and Tatum's father, Grayson Tennant, had passed away. In his will, he'd left his house and the bar he owned to his two daughters: Tatum and her half-sister Isabella Santiago. They grew up in the same town but at their own mothers' houses, until both mothers decided to leave Little Grove. Grayson Tennant, as Tatum and Maya remembered him, was an abusive drunk. When the two girls were about 18, both Maya and Sofia had decided that they'd finally had enough of him and left town. Maya left at the end of the school year, Sofia waited until the end of summer before she and Isabella left. The girls were reluctant to leave, if only because that small town was all they'd known but both felt like they had no choice but to go with their mothers. Tatum hadn't seen her half-sister since the day she left. She wasn't even sure if Isabella had received a similar letter and, if she had, whether she was also coming back. Tatum figured she'd find out when she got back to Little Grove.

"Why would you even want to go back? Don't you remember what he did...?" Maya's voice broke, as she sank down on to her daughter's bed, ttrying to fight back tears.

Her daughter stopped, taking a deep breath as she tried not to be annoyed by her mother's tactics of trying to guilt-trip her into staying. "Of course I do, mama," Tatum said as she sank onto her haunches in front of her. Looking at her mother was like looking in a mirror: both green eyes though differently shaped, the same shade of red hair except Maya's was starting to go a little grey, and the same full lips. The main difference was their nose; Tatum had inherited the nose of her father's family, even if not necessarily the exact same as him. "But I need a change in scenery after Kenny. And at least this way I'll have a house and a job lined up," she tried to explain. Kenny was her ex, not abusive but still an asshole. And she broke up with him when she decided she deserved better than that, better than what her mother had put up with for years.

"But the Millers..."

"Like I can't handle the Millers," Tatum scoffed, sounding braver than she felt.

The Millers were a rich and relatively powerful family from the next town over. They owned a series of factories and many stores, providing employment to several surrounding towns. Including, until the girls were about eight, to Grayson. Losing his job had caused his drinking to spiral out of control, as well as his fists. And his two girlfriends were suddenly not the only ones on the receiving end. Maya and Sofia eventually managed to stop him from seeing the girls, when he set his sights on Brenda Miller. Of all the people he could try to start seeing, and abusing, he had to choose the oldest daughter of the Miller family. Her brothers and father had not been too impressed, and Grayson was lucky to have made it out alive. Some of that hatred had transferred to his daughters with name calling and bullying, but the Miller men would never have actually raised their hands to them. They weren't like Grayson. When he did finally sober up and set up his bar after the girls had been moved away from him, it was a constant thorn in the side of the Millers. And they did whatever they could to make his life miserable. They would be hoping neither of Grayson's daughters would want to come back and claim his bar. They could then buy it cheaply from the state and flatten it, finally removing any reminder of him and what he'd tried to do. "I'll be fine mama, trust me," Tatum said, seeing her mother's look calm a little.

"How did I ever get so lucky to have a strong daughter like you?" Maya said proudly, cupping her daughter's face. Tatum had to stop herself from grimacing. She'd had to be strong over the years, her mother's romantic liaison with Grayson had left her no choice. But now was the wrong time to point that out.

Isabella couldn't believe she was back in Little Grove after almost ten years. She wasn't sure what she was doing at the cemetery with a single white rose in her hands, staring at the grave of the man she'd tried to forget but was reminded of every time she looked in the mirror. She'd inherited his light brown eyes, the constant pained expression he used to wear was starting to show in her eyes as well. Life hadn't been what she'd hoped it would be, but it was exactly as she'd expected. She didn't stand a chance, with her dad being a drunk, her mother going from one abusive relationship to the other; she'd had to grow up so fast she couldn't remember ever really having a childhood.

She placed the rose on the gravestone, realising she didn't feel a thing and wondering if something was wrong with her. Though most memories she had of Grayson Tennant were bad, there were a few good ones among them and she tried to focus on those memories as she looked at his name. She remembered him taking her to the county fair so she could sit on a pony for the first time in her life, she remembered him picking her up from school to walk her home a few times and, though the memories made her smile, she couldn't get herself to miss the man. If she hadn't been so desperate for a new start she probably would have thrown the letter she'd received a few days ago in the bin without reading it. As it was, she'd been feeling miserable and praying for a way out when the letter fell on the doormat. She didn't wait for her boyfriend to come home from his week away with friends, packed a few of her belongings and, after leaving a note for David on the table, she'd taken what little money she had left and headed for the bus. She'd been travelling for two days straight to get to the small town she was now dreading to enter. She sighed and petted the stone with her father's name etched into it in a silent goodbye before she picked her bag up and left. 

The road to Little Grove had been nothing more than gravel the last time she'd seen it but, like her, the small town seemed to have grown up. Isabella stood on a hill on the edge of town, overlooking the small community, recognising Grayson's home even from a distance, but the house that caught her eyes the most was the Miller mansion. It towered over the rest of the town and, it was clear that whatever else might have changed in the small town, the Millers were still the richest family around. She was surprised by the sudden hatred she felt towards the family that had been the cause of her father's drunken behaviour. They'd had every right to fire Grayson, but they'd also made sure there was no other place for him to work, threatening any business that considered hiring the man. They'd made it impossible for him to leave town by ensuring no one bought his house. He was stuck in Little Grove, and the only way to relieve the misery he felt had been to start drinking. And so Isabella hated the Millers for ruining her childhood, for making sure she didn't have a reliable father, for chasing her mother into the arms of another abusive man just so they could escape town. She still had to tell her mother about the letter and that she was back in the town that had kicked them out, but she wanted to wait until she was settled until she did so. She already felt nervous and she was sure her mother would, most likely successfully, talk her out of going. She didn't want to think about David's reaction when he would come home later this week. She shivered involuntarily and pushed the thought out of her head, sure she'd find out just how upset he was with her when he decidedly would come for her. Pretending she was braver than she was, she headed for the house she now co-owned with her half-sister. She wasn't sure if she'd find Tatum there, but she hoped she would. It was always easier to be shunned from the rest of town when you weren't alone. She wondered how the redhead was doing, if she'd even recognise her after ten years.

It took Isabella twenty minutes to get to the house on foot, skirting the town so she wouldn't bump into anyone that would remember her. She wasn't exactly sure what she expected to happen if someone would know she was there, but something told her it was best to stay out of sight. She walked up the porch, noticing none of the steps creaked like they used to. It was clear even from looking at the outside of the house that Grayson had done his best to clean up his act. She reached for the door, and jumped when the door flew open.

"Izzy?" a green-eyed woman asked surprised after taking her in for a few seconds.

Tatum took her half-sister in, her wide clothes hiding the South-American curves she knew she had, and her long black hair in a messy bun on her head. Her father's eyes were staring back at her and she could see life hadn't been easy for the brunette.

Isabella hesitated for a moment before she pulled the redhead into a hug. "Hey Tatum. I'm so glad you're here," she breathed, the relief of not being entirely alone prickling behind her eyes. She smiled when her sister pulled back. "It's so weird to be here," she mumbled when Tatum stepped aside to let her in. The house was nothing like she remembered, no beer cans on a sticky floor, no dust everywhere, no filthy kitchen with piles of unwashed dishes.

"Feels like steppin' into another universe, huh?" Tatum chuckled, recognising the surprise on the other girl's face, probably similar to the look she'd worn a few hours ago. "Have you seen anyone?" she asked while Isabella moved around the house, checking out the two bedrooms and bathroom, actually stopping in her tracks when she opened another door and found an organised office.

"No… You?" she answered, a little distracted by the photographs that were standing on the desk. One showed an 18-year-old Tatum smiling at graduation, throwing her cap in the air, ready for whatever life was going to throw at her. The photo had been taken a few days before Tatum and Maya left town. The other showed Isabella sat cross-legged in a field of flowers as the sun set behind her. She remembered the day that picture was taken like it had only just happened, she remembered the boy that had taken the photograph, the boy that had been her first love and first heartbreak. She had no idea how Grayson had gotten that photo, it felt like she was staring back at another life. That girl had had a single summer of happiness before everything went dark. 

"Me neither. Wanna go check out the bar?" the redhead pulled her out of her reverie. Isabella nodded, tearing her eyes away from the photograph and all the long-forgotten memories it held.