I blinked at the change of subject. "I was eight. I was trying to practice my swing in the living room."
"You hid in your closet for three hours. I found you curled up in the corner, convinced Dad was going to send you away." His eyes met mine. "Do you remember what I said?"
"'We'll figure it out together.'"
"And what did I do?"
"You told Dad you broke it. You got grounded for a month."
"I was twelve and took a month of punishment for something I didn't do." He leaned forward. "Because that's what brothers do, Tobias. They help each other. They protect each other. They figure things out together."
My throat tightened.
"When you were scared of thunderstorms, who sat with you all night?"
"You did."
"When those kids at school made fun of your drawings, who told them he'd break their arms if they didn't stop?"
"You did."
"When you came home from college that Christmas, drunk on Dad's scotch, and told me you'd never felt about anyone the way I talked about feeling... who just said 'We'll figure it out' and never brought it up again until you were ready?"
"You did."
"So why didn't you come to me this time?" His voice cracked. "Why did you run without telling me? Why did I have to find out my brother was missing from a phone call at 3 AM while I was in Singapore?"
"I don't know." The words came out small. "I was scared and ashamed. I'd spent so long pretending everything was fine that I didn't know how to ask for help."
"That's not good enough."
"I know."
We sat in silence while the diner buzzed around us. The clink of dishes, the murmur of conversations, the hiss of the coffee maker. Normal sounds felt very far away.
"I have something to tell you," Tristan finally said. "And you're not going to like it."
I looked up.
"You think I didn't know where you were?" His expression was unreadable. "My people found you a week after you ran."
The words didn't make sense at first. "What?"
"The investigators Dad hired are useless. They've been chasing bad leads for weeks: airports, hotels in Europe, your college roommate in Chicago." He paused. "I've been making sure of that."
I stared at him. "You've been misdirecting them?"
"Yes." He took a sip of his cold coffee. "I knew where you were and made sure no one else did."
"But why?"
"Because you ran for a reason. If Dad found you before you were ready, he would have made everything worse." His jaw tightened. "And I figured if you wanted to talk to me, you'd reach out. I wasn't going to force it."
I tried to process this. My brother had known where I was, had been protecting me from a distance, and had waited for me to come to him instead of showing up uninvited.
"You could have called me," I said slowly.
"I could have. But you didn't call me when you ran. You didn't trust me enough to tell me your plan." He looked away. "I waited to see if you'd trust me enough to reach out on your own."
