“Is that even a question, big brother?”
“I was just checking. Either way, just remember that you don’t have to do this alone either.” The line goes quiet for half a second, then he adds, “We’ve got you,” and hangs up before I can respond.
I stand there, staring at the dark screen like it might give me back every moment when I wasn’tbrave enough to say what I felt sooner. But there is no time for a personal pity party. I have to do something before Alycia does something she can’t take back. With my mind made up, I walk straight to the bathroom.
The shower hisses to life, steam rising immediately, and I step under the hot spray. I brace both hands on the tile as the water pounds over my shoulders. Heat rolls down my spine, loosening muscles that feel welded together, but it doesn’t reach the place where everything inside me has clenched tight. I close my eyes, and her absence hits with brutal clarity. I see the determination she tried to hide, the quiet terror she didn’t bother to disguise, the stubborn courage she’s always carried like armor she forged herself. She walked out carrying all of that on her shoulders, leaving me standing in the wreckage of what loving someone like her actually means.
Steam thickens around me, curling warm against my skin, but inside, I feel cold where she peeled herself away. There’s a pressure in my chest that doesn’t ease with breath because she didn’t ask me to stand beside her.
She didn’t even consider it as an option. She’s probably been doing this her whole life, bracing for impact alone. Even after everything we said to each other last night, she still believes she has to walk into that office by herself and take the hit so I don’t have to. It shouldn’t hurt, but it does. Not in the way of betrayal, but in the way of someone finally understandingthe exact shape of the wound the person they love has lived with for years.
The water pounds harder, echoing through the small space. I lift my head, letting the spray strike my face, and breathe through the realization settling like gravity inside me.
She didn’t shut me out because she doesn’t trust me. She shut me out because she doesn’t know what it feels like to have someone refuse to let her fight alone. It became instinct for her to step forward and take the first blow, to keep her fear hidden so she could survive instead of asking to be protected. But she isn’t a burden or liability to me. She’s the person I chose. I want to stand behind her in both the darkness and the light. Never again will I let her walk into the fire alone, even if she thinks she has to.
By the time I step out, my jaw is set in a way I haven’t felt since the last time I played through an injury I refused to acknowledge. I pull on a clean shirt, scrub a towel through my hair, and step into the living room, just in time to hear a loud, impatient knock.
I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I should even open the door, when I hear a familiar voice. “Open the door, loser. Cooper sent us to help.”
I open the door and find Ramona standing there, arms crossed, expression sharp enough to slice steel. Beside her, Michele is leaning against the wall, holding a coffee she clearly didn’t bring for me.
“Alise is on her way up. I think she brokea land speed record to get here.” Ramona pats me on the cheek before pushing her way inside.
“Morning, sunshine.” Michele lifts her cup in greeting.
I blink between them, completely disoriented. “What—how?—”
“Cooper.” Ramona cuts me a look that should be illegal without a permit. “By the way, Alise is very annoyed you didn’t give us a heads-up that you were about to go live and declare your love for your fake girlfriend today.”
“The group chat.” I sigh with a shake of my head.
“Yes, the group chat,” Michele says in a tone so dry it could self-ignite. “But we’d know either way. Your brothers can’t keep their mouths shut. They would’ve been texting us daily.”
“Remind me never to tell any of you my secrets.” I press a hand to my forehead.
“I’ve been a very good secret keeper, thank you very much,” Michele chimes in, brushing past me. “Save the existential crisis for later. We’re here to help you figure out what the hell you’re going to say before you go rogue on the internet.”
Before either of them can launch into full battle-planning mode, the door flies open again, and Alise stumbles in, breathless, hair wild from wind and pure chaos.
“You didn’t do it yet, did you?” she demands, pointing at me like she’s conducting a murder investigation. “Please tell me you haven’t done it yet.”
“No,” Michele says dryly. “We’re still in the pregame warmup.”
“How did you get here so fast? Redwood Falls is an hour away.” I stare at Alise.
She waves a hand. “I might have lied to a cop who pulled me over.”
“Alise—”
“I told him it was a medical emergency.”
Michele chokes on her coffee. “You did WHAT?”
“A potentially broken heart is a medical emergency.” Alise shrugs, completely unapologetic.
The room is silent for a few moments before the dam breaks. Ramona laughs, loud and unrestrained. Michele shakes her head, muttering something about needing a therapist. And I finally breathe because this—these women, this family, this messy, chaotic, loyal-as-hell army—is the reason Alycia won’t have to stand alone today.
Ramona claps her hands once. “Fun time is over! It’s time to make a game plan.”
