“You doing okay?”
I cleared my throat. “Yeah…of course.” I took the seat, shifting my large bag into my lap and gripping it tight to my chest.
Ash gave me a knowing look. “It’s been awhile since you’ve been here.”
It’d been more thanawhile.
I glanced around the space again. Even though the memories felt like ghosts hovering in the corners of these rooms, it did feel different. Better.
“The house looks nice,” I said.
Ash grabbed a jug of iced tea from the fridge and poured a couple of glasses. “Thanks. I couldn’t burn the place down, but I could cover some of the ugliness with paint so…that’s what I did.”
He set a glass down in front of me and took the remaining seat.
I blinked at him. This wasn’t at all what I had been expecting. My brother offering a glass of iced tea in the home of our traumatized childhood hadn’t been on my bingo card.
I let out a heavy breath. “I—I don’t know what to say to you.”
It was the simplest thing I could think of. What was I supposed to say to the brother I had abandoned? How did I express the depth of my guilt and sorrow to the sibling I had left alone with the abusive man who was our father?
Ash pressed his lips against what I thought might’ve been a smile, but that didn’t make sense.
“You?” His brows arched. “I never thought I’d see the day my sister was speechless.”
He did smile then, a small, melancholy one that didn’t seem genuine.
I was mortified when I felt the tears rising—hot and pressing. My nails dug harder into the soft leather of my bag. “How can you—” My voice broke. “How can you be so nice to me?”
Ash’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?” He sounded genuinely confused.
I glanced up at the ceiling, terrified those tears fighting to be shed would win. “I left you,” I squeaked. “I told you I would be back for youand then I just…disappeared. I had thought—hoped—that when you turned eighteen you might contact me. I never changed my number. But when you didn’t…I assumed you hated me.”
The words hung heavily in the air. I was too much of a coward to look back down as he faced the truth of what I’d done.
“Skye.”
When he said my name, it wasn’t with the malice I deserved. It was almost soft. Gentle.
My gaze snapped to his from the sheer shock of it. His expression was…sad.
“I don’t blame you for what he did.”
The words hit me square in the chest. My heart squeezed.
“I don’t understand how you couldn’t,” I whispered. “You probably should.”
His jaw hardened. “No.” He shook his head. “I won’t let him take more away from me.”
The tears burned again, and I lost the fight with a few as they slid down my cheek. I wiped them away hastily. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“I know.”
He reached for me, and I grabbed hold of his hand. His was warm, and so, so big as he wrapped it around mine. I was shaking, and he was steady.
“I should’ve come back for you. I tried, but I should’ve tried harder,” I said, voice on the verge of a sob.
He shrugged, but didn’t let go of my hand. “Don’t. It’s over. It doesn’tmatter anymore.”
