Pride swells in my chest, warming me from within as I watch my little brother interact with his teammates and coaches. He’s in his element on the football field. All the heartbreak, awkwardness, and insecurities that come along with being a thirteen-year-old in a new city bleed away, and I can envisionthe man he’s becoming. Someone self-assured, steady, and thoughtful.
For the millionth time, I wish my parents were here to see it.
Deep, familiar melancholy tempers the pride, and I wrap my arms around myself. The truth of it is, I don’t merely wish my parents were here to see the man Reed is becoming. I wish they were here because I know I’m not enough for him on my own. He deserves parents who can be there for everything, not just an older sister who has no idea how to juggle work, Reed’s school, practice, and games, let alone how she’ll continue to pay for everything.
And selfishly? I wish I could be a normal twenty-five-year-old woman. I wish I could date or go out with my friends without worrying about my brother. I’m lonely and scared and exhausted.
Reed catches a pass from the quarterback, his teammates cheering as he races into the end zone, and guilt floods me.
I may not have asked to become my little brother’s sole pseudo-parent at age twenty, but he didn’t ask for any of this, either. As much as I wish things were different for both our sakes, I wouldn’t give him up for all the normal experiences in the world.
And that’s the eternal dichotomy of family, isn’t it? There are moments you wish you could run away, but then you come to your senses and realize that all the friends, parties, travel—whatever grass seems greener in the moment—would be meaningless without the people you love most.
A whistle blows, and the coaches huddle everyone up before telling them to hit the locker room and change. Reed looks for me in the stands and holds up a finger, asking for a minute. I nod, watching him saunter off the field with his new friends. At least one of us has people in his corner.
When I catch the familiar thought, I still. That’s not accurate anymore, is it? Because, for the first time in a long time, Idohave people in my corner. I have Adrienne and Bryson, and even though we haven’t hung out in person much yet, I also have Isla, Lexi, and Mira. They don’t go a day without texting our group chat and checking in on me.
I’m not alone anymore. Not entirely.
There’s no wiping the grin off my face when Reed comes jogging out of the locker room with his backpack slung over his shoulder.
“Hey.” He arches one eyebrow at my expression. “What are you smiling about?”
Looping my arm through his, I shrug. “Just had a good day, I guess.”
“Oh yeah? How so?”
“I got to hold puppies at work.”
That gets Reed’s attention. He’d like a dog as much as I would, and I make a mental note to call our contacts at Happy Tails to see if I can bring Reed in for some puppy therapy. “Really? Why?”
“We had a photoshoot with some guys on the team and puppies for a calendar.”
Reed snorts out a laugh. “Seriously?”
“Yep. It was pretty funny.”
“I’ll bet. Oh, I almost forgot to remind you that we don’t have school on Friday. Teacher institute day or something.”
Well, shit. I stumble a little before I can get my moment of panic under control. I completely forgot about that. Reed is a responsible thirteen-year-old, but I’m not comfortable leaving him home alone for nine hours.
“Yeah, I definitely forgot about that. I think you’re going to have to come to work with me.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, sorry. Just bring any homework you have and a book or something. Maybe the team will have practice. I bet Joe the security guard would let you in to watch it.”
“Ugh. Fine. But I’m old enough to stay home alone.” Reed nudges my shoulder with his before he walks around to the passenger side of the car.
“Not that long. Nice try, Reedy. So, how was your day?” I ask him as I unlock the Civic and he throws his stuff into the backseat. “You were looking great out there at practice.”
“Thanks. My day was good. Got an A on my math test.”
“That’s awesome.” My chest expands with pride. Reed works so hard, and he’s such a great kid despite everything stacked against him. “Proud of you.”
His cheeks warm, and he ducks his head, curls bobbing. “Thanks.”
“We should grab dinner to celebrate. What are you in the mood for?”
