“So youjust... suffered in silence?”
“I tried to move on. I dated someone else. I lied to myself a lot.” Her laugh is watery. “It didn't work.”
“Clearly.”
Caleb clears his throat. Everyone turns to look at him.
“Okay, wait.” He holds up both hands, face scrunched in genuine confusion. “I need someone to walk me through the protocol here, because I'm lost.”
“Protocol?” Roman repeats flatly.
“Yeah, protocol. See, here's the thing.” Caleb starts ticking points off on his fingers. “Sierra's the baby of the family. I get it. Protect the baby sister at all costs. But—” He pauses dramatically. “I'm only a year older than her. One year. Which technically makes me the babybrother.”
“Caleb, what the hell are you?—”
“I'm just saying!” He throws his hands up. “There's apparently some kind of 'bros before—'” He catches Roman's death glare and course-corrects. “—uh, some kind of 'rule' about baby sisters that I was definitely not consulted on. Pretty sure that rule was made without me, and I was just... grandfathered into enforcing it.”
Sierra stares at him. “Are you seriously trying to unionize your way out of this right now?”
“I'm trying to figure out myrole, Sierra. Am I supposed to be mad? Am I supposed to punch Everett? Am I supposed to high-five him?” He gestures wildly at me. “Congratulate you? Be happy for you both? Because honestly, right now I'm just confused.”
“You're an idiot,” Nolan says mildly.
“I'm aconfusedidiot. There's a difference.”
Despite everything—the tension, the fear, the weight of a decade of secrets finally exposed—a laugh bubbles out of Sierra. It's wet and shaky, but it's real.
Caleb grins, clearly pleased with himself for defusing at least some of the bomb.
But Roman isn't laughing.
He's staring at Sierra with an expression that's slowly shifting from shock to something else. Something heavier. He runs a hand over his face, exhales hard, and when he speaks again, his voice is rough.
“You didn't have Mom.”
The words land like a blow.
Sierra goes rigid beside me. “What?”
“When all this was happening. When you were seventeen and scared and falling for—” He gestures at me without looking. “You didn't have Mom to talk to. You didn't have anyone to help you figure it out.”
“Roman—”
“We raised you.” His voice cracks on the word. “Me and Caleb and Nolan. Mostly me. After she died, we just... we circled up around you like you were something fragile that needed protecting. But we never—” He breaks off, jaw tight. “I never stopped to ask if you needed something other than protection.”
“That's not?—”
“You should have been able to come to us. About boys. About feelings. About all of it.” Roman's eyes are too bright now. “We should have made space for that. Instead, we just... built walls. And you couldn't even tellus you were in love because you thought it would break us.”
Sierra's crying again. Silent tears tracking down her cheeks while her grip on my hand turns bruising.
“I didn't want to hurt you,” she whispers. “Any of you. That's all I ever?—”
“I know.” Roman crosses the distance between them in two steps and pulls her into a hug so fierce it forces her to let go of me. “I know, Shutterbug. I know.”
She sobs into his chest. He holds her, one hand cradling the back of her head, and looks at me over her shoulder.
“If you hurt her?—”
