A car door shut out front.
“She’s bringing the kids over,” my brother said softly. “Dropping them off.”
The front door opened, and his kids barreled in, and Cara glanced at me.
The kids screamed my name and clung to my shoulders, giggling, and for a moment, the world didn’t feel heavy at all.
She said something to my brother, and I followed the kids into the kitchen.
I cooked dinner while Evan wrangled bath time.
We both cleaned up the spilled apple juice.
We both answered tiny, curious questions like “Why do worms live in dirt?” and “Can fish get tired?” and “Uncle Carson, how tall are you?”
By nine o’clock, the kids were asleep, and the house had quieted, leaving only the hum of the fridge and the weight of reality settling over everything.
Evan sat at the dining table staring at his hands. “She won’t come back.”
“You don’t know that.”
He shook his head. “I can tell. Something’s broken.”
“Broken doesn’t mean beyond repair.”
“You sound like Mom,” he said with a sad laugh.
We sat there for a while—two grown men who had survived too many storms to count, each shouldering a different kind of ache.
Then he said quietly, “You didn’t hesitate. As soon as I called, you came.”
“Of course I did.”
“I know, but…” He looked at me, brow furrowing. “Last time you did this, it cost you everything. Your relationship. Your happiness. You dropped everything for us, and you didn’t think twice.”
“That’s what family is,” I said. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know. But it still happened.” His gaze sharpened. “And I don’t want that happening to you again. Especially if…” He hesitated. “If you’re seeing someone.”
My breath stopped. Not a full stop—just enough to snag.
He caught it. “You are, aren’t you?”
I considered dodging. Minimizing. Laughing it off.
But after the day we’d had? After the years of secrets and sacrifices and swallowed feelings?
He deserved the truth.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I met someone.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Is it a good thing?” he asked, cautious, like he didn’t want to jinx it.
I let out a slow breath. “It’s… more than good. She’s… Sienna is…” I tried to find the words, but everything felt too small, too incomplete. “She’s unlike anyone I’ve known. Wild and brave and too honest and too confusing. And being around her feels like I’m waking up after years of sleepwalking.”
