Sean drives. Daniel stares out the window.

To break the silence echoing between him and his brother, Sean turns on his music, and one of his favorite songs comes up: "On the Flip of a Coin" by The Streets. Sean fell in love with this song because of how weird it is. It's hard to get into, which made it seem deep. And he was listening to it the day his dad was shot. It's the last song he heard as a kid, and one of the first songs he listened to after he changed the past.

Sean quietly sings the chorus:

Turn your life on the flip of this coin

Turn upside a choice you'd normally avoid

And promise me you'll follow what it says

Whatever it says

He knows the lyrics by heart, but as he mumbles through the pseudo-rapped verses, it's like he hears them for the first time, the story about a kid whose life is at the whims of fate because he makes decisions by flipping a coin.

And the kid has to do things no kid should have to do.

And he can't get out of them.

And, supposedly, this is all to make him strong.

Sean lifts his foot off the pedal, and he pulls to the side of the road. He puts the car in park then sets his head on the steering wheel. Like he did just before he gave up at the border.

"Why did we stop?" he hears Daniel ask. "Bro, are you okay?"

And this is what Sean wants to say: I wish I was sixteen again. Not just sixteen, but sixteen on October 27, 2016, the day before Dad got shot. That was the last day that Sean was a normal kid, unbroken and untested. At one point, he would have given anything to have his dad back. And now that he's changed things, it's still not enough. Because he still carries his trauma like baggage. It is ink, spilling over his pages, ruining the art he makes with his family, his friends, and his maybe-boyfriend. Toby's right, in a way—he's caught up in the past. But it's not that he's staring at it. It's that he can't run away from it. He can't 'eternal sunshine' his brain into a spotless mind.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you, Daniel, back at the gas station," Sean says. "I shouldn't have done that."

"It's whatever . . . " Daniel says.

"No, it's not 'whatever.' And I shouldn't have threatened that guy. I know that was scary for you, to see me like that. I overreacted. I didn't handle it well. " Sean sits up and drags his hands over his face, and he remembers the way the scars on his cheeks felt against his fingertips; the scars are gone, but they haven't faded away. "That guy, I met him before. He humiliated me. He hurt me and scared me pretty bad. I was for real, legit afraid he would hurt you the same way."

"Sean, he didn't act like he knew you," Daniel says.

"He thought I was some 'illegal.' We all look the same to him." The lie, the half-truth feels uncomfortable. He promised Daniel in a hotel room long ago that they wouldn't lie to each other.

"But when would you have met him?" Daniel says, sitting up straighter. "That guy had Nevada plates. I don't think he gets out much. Have you been to Nevada before?"

Sean stares out over the desert. There's no way he can tell Daniel the truth, not all of it. But lying makes things worse. Running from things makes things worse. So what else is there to say? "Yeah, enano, I have."

Daniel pushes a hand through his hair, making it stick up like the ruffled feathers of a bird. "When were you in the Southwest? Why were you here? Wait . . . have you . . . did you see our mom?"

Sean takes a deep breath, holds it as he drums his index fingers on the steering wheel. Finally lets it out as he nods. "I got into some trouble. And Mom helped me out."

"No way. No fucking way." Daniel shakes his head. "This has to be bullshit. You're making this up."

"You can see through my bullshit, right? Am I bullshitting you now?"

Daniel's eyes narrow, like he has some kind of X-ray vision he's using to peer into Sean's brain. His eyes soften as his bullshit detector comes up with nothing. "But why would Karen help you after all this time? How did you find her? Or did she find you? Why did you even give her a chance? All my life, you have hated her. The idea that you would accept help from her . . . I don't think you would do it even if, like, Dad died and we were dirt-broke and homeless and about to sell our bodies to crack dealers."

"You're not wrong." Sean chuckles, a sad chuckle that stings his eyes. "I was . . . things had to get pretty bad."

"Just what kind of trouble were you in?" Daniel asks. "And how did you keep all of this from Dad?"

"It was bad enough trouble that I accepted Mom's help," Sean says. "I know that's a total non-answer, but . . . I do want to tell you and Dad everything. I just . . . can't."

"Yes, you can." Daniel leans forward. "You just have to open your mouth and let the words fall out. It's not that hard to be honest, dude."

Daniel's eyes are so . . . fuck, they make Sean feel so shitty. How can this kid be a sullen teenager and still have the same wide, vulnerable eyes he had when he was ten? How can Sean be 'not close' to his brother and still feel the weight of disappointing him? The poor kid. He's wondered about his mom his whole life, and now he thinks Sean has answers—which Sean does, but not ones that he can give that make sense.

How can Sean explain that he can Billy Pilgrim through time?

That their dad died?

That Daniel is a superwolf?

That there is another timeline, where they are the wolf brothers against the entire world?

"I can't right now." Sean sets his hand on Daniel's head, smoothes his brother's hair back into place. "I am sorry, enano. I don't think I have the words to tell you in a way where I don't sound like I am lying or that I am crazy."

"Dude, you know how sketchy you sound, right?" Daniel says. "You drop this bombshell on me, but you can't answer any questions about it? I'm not trying to start a fight with you, but after everything else, why should I trust you?"

"I don't know. Maybe you shouldn't," Sean sighs. "How about this? If you don't ask me any questions about what's happened to me or about me meeting Mom or the bad dreams or the panic attacks or any of the stuff I have been holding back . . . if you can wait until after we talk to Mom, then I will let you ask me anything you want. And I will answer you. Truthfully." Sean holds out his fist. "I'll tell you everything. We got a deal?"

Daniel stares at Sean's fist, arms crossed, not reaching for it. The next song in the playlist ends before Daniel says, "You have to promise that you're not going to do anything else shady on this trip. No more things that are crime-adjacent, okay?"

"I promise, bro," Sean says. "I will be a model citizen. Totally upstanding. Someone you can be proud to be related to."

Finally, Daniel taps Sean's fist with his own. "Your big mystery better not be that your emo ass got dumped by some girl or that you got your first C in one of your classes. I will make fun of you so hard."

"Dude, school is, like, the one thing I am not failing at," Sean says as he starts the car back up, eying the gray clouds rolling in across the sky.

# # #

As they drive through Arizona, as they stop to eat a lunch of the food Dad sent, it is maddening to talk about music and videogames and Sean's Nickelodeon prospects when all Daniel can think about are questions about his mom. What is Karen like? What does she do for a living? Does she have a new family? Is she cool? How the hell did she bail you out? Seriously, Sean, what the fuck did you do?

And then there is the 1,000,000-dollar question: Why did Mom leave?

And the answer Daniel already suspects: It was me, wasn't it?

Some of Sean's weirder music comes up in the playlist, and he's really vibing to it, so it gives Daniel a break to think. The past few hours—no, the past few days—have been wild. He and Sean seemed to be becoming friends. But then Sean almost fucking stabbed a dude! And Sean has secretly met their mom—with no one knowing—like a plot twist from a daytime soap opera.

Daniel opens his cell phone, navigates to his Instagram. He hasn't posted on it in months, not that there is anyone who would "like" any of his posts. There's one from back in September, him and Noah on the first day of school. They had coordinated their t-shirts: Noah's was Iron Man, Daniel's was Captain America. They were going to have an awesome school year then Daniel fucked everything up.

So on one hand, Daniel understands Sean saying he can't talk. Because some things are awkward, embarrassing, and painful to talk about.

But there's so much about Sean meeting their mom that does not add up.

What kind of trouble would Sean be in that he would turn to Karen for help? Sean would get irrationally upset as a teenager if someone suggested that their mother was not history's greatest monster. When Sean was pitching this trip, he said he knew where Karen was "about five years ago"—but Sean was living at home then. He was just sixteen. Daniel and Dad would have noticed if Sean had gone to Arizona. He wasn't that good at sneaking out.

Sean's head still bobs to the beat of his music. He's not focused on much except the road, so Daniel opens his messages with Dad and sends: Serious question and please answer honest what do you think is up with Sean?

Dad is at the garage, so Daniel is surprised when the three dots immediately appear. Dad types for a while but the message is only: I do not know. Did something happen?

I know you don't 100 percent know but you always figure things out with me so I know you have a guess about sean, Daniel sends.

That is not true I don't know whats going on with you right now, Dad texts. Then he sends a second one: But I think your brother did something he is not proud of but it is something that he should not be ashamed of. Hes a good kid.

Daniel taps his phone on his chin. Dad has always taken Sean's side, blinded himself to the fact that his older son can be a shithead. And there's proof Sean is not a 'good kid.' He threatened that guy. He stole. He offered to break into a room Claire asked him to stay out of. Sean totally flipped his shit over being called a criminal. Daniel doesn't want to worry his father. And there is something in his DNA that says he shouldn't rat his brother out like this. But it also seems like Sean already is in trouble. Daniel sends: Do you think Sean could ever do something illegal?

It's illegal to drink and smoke pot when you are a teenager so yes I think he can, Dad says.

But I mean something SERIOUSLY illegal like something real bad like something he could go to jail for

Your brother is not that kind of person. He would never do something that would send him to jail. Did something happen? Your last texts made it sound like you were getting along with him

Daniel almost jumps in his seat as the back of Sean's hand hits him in the chest.

"Come on, bro," Sean says. "This is 'Feel Good Inc.' by the Gorillaz. We used to drive Dad crazy by playing this on repeat when we were kids. You have to help me sing this chorus."

Daniel smiles and sings along. But as his voice forms an anti-harmony with Sean's off-key singing, he sends Dad one more text: Everything is fine but something is definitely wrong with sean

He leaves out the last part of his message: And Sean is definitely hiding something, something big.

Either that, Daniel thinks, watching his brother stumble over the rapped verses of the song, or he is totally full of shit.

# # #

Sean's palms sweat against the steering wheel. There's an uneasiness in him. It's the way the clouds overhead are getting darker, but it's also what he told his brother. That Mom helped him out was the truth . . . but when they meet her and she has no memory of it, it's going to sound like total horseshit.

But when they pull into the tiny, makeshift community of Away, a sweet rush of memories floods Sean. He and Daniel were not here long, but the people are permanently tattooed on Sean's heart. Their kindness after months of suffering made the time he and Daniel lived here with Mom special. Sean felt happy. And safe. Like everything would turn out okay.

It was the last time he could believe that.

A dust cloud rises from the ground as Sean parks the car a few yards in front of Mom's trailer. He gets out, and Away is both the same and very different. Arthur and Stanley sit on their porch beneath their rainbow Pride flag. Sean grins and almost runs up to them, but they are already watching him suspiciously—he's a stranger in a place that doesn't get visitors. So, instead, Sean just waves, and Stanley waves back, eying him cautiously.

In the other life, Joan lost her battle with cancer. Her trailer is gone, but her sculptures are still here. They are smaller than Sean remembers because Daniel's powers weren't here to do the heavy lifting, but there is something powerful about knowing that even if she is gone, Joan's art lives on.

David's trailer is gone too. Before Sean changed the past, Mom mentioned that David was reconnecting with his ex-wife. Maybe he did that in this life too. Maybe someone got a truly happy ending after all.

Sean hopes so.

David always seemed like he had grown a lot, like the death of his step-daughter had really changed him.

Suddenly, hazy recollections hit Sean. David used to live somewhere in Oregon, not-too-far from Beaver Creek. And his stepdaughter was shot by some kid at school. And her name was . . . it was Chloe.

There is no way that could be the same person as Max's Chloe, right?

Daniel kicks a rock that goes skipping across the dirt. "When you said this place was small, you were really underselling it."

"Yeah, it's not even a town, really," Sean says, shaking off his thoughts about Chloe and David. "Just a bunch of like-minded people living on the outskirts, away from people who want to hassle you for just existing."

"It's just some trailers and piles of junk in the middle of the desert," Daniel says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Why are you hating on this place, bro? I think it's pretty awesome."

"Everything you like is weird, so of course you would think this is awesome." Daniel sighs. "I don't know what I expected, but I guess I always pictured that our Mom left us for . . . something better. This does not look better than our house in Seattle."

Sean bites his lip because, while Daniel has a point, there was definitely a time when this place felt like home. "Maybe it's not about this place being 'better.' It might be more like this place is what you 'need' when you need it. How are you feeling about all this? We're about to knock on the door to that trailer up there and meet your mom."

"I feel like our mom left us to live in a trailer. And like my brother is keeping things from me." Daniel shakes his head. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be shitty. I don't know how I feel. Scared? Excited? Frustrated? I know it's dumb, but I mostly keep thinking that I hope she likes me."

Sean squeezes Daniel's shoulder so tightly he can feel the kid's bones. "Of course she'll like you. Everybody likes you, enano."

"That's not really true, but okay."

"One thing though . . ." Sean says, rubbing the back of his own neck. "Maybe don't mention her helping me out."

"What? Why not?" Daniel asks.

And what should Sean say to that? Well, you see, bro, she isn't going to remember because it didn't happen in this timeline? So instead he says, "Just don't . . . okay?" and immediately cringes. He hated when Dad's answer to something was Because I said so, and he knows this never worked with Daniel when they were on the run, but Daniel doesn't argue and Sean doesn't have anything better.

They walk up to the door of the trailer. As Sean is raising his fist to knock, he feels the apprehension in his chest. What if Claire is right? What if this version of Mom does not want to see them? But, like most of his life for the past five years, Sean is in too deep to turn back now.

So he raps on the metal door.

And when it opens, there is Mom, looking exactly like she did the last time she visited him in prison. That's a wild thing about her. For all of Karen Reynolds not wanting to be pinned down, she's kind of resistant to change.

The color falls out of her cheeks. Her eyes widen to circles that consume most of her face. "Esteban?" she says.

"Close." Sean smiles. "Everyone says I look like him now."

"Sean?" she says, raising a palm to her mouth. "And is that . . . Daniel?"

"Yeah, it is," Sean says. "Hey, Mom. It's good to see you again."