“Hey, sis.”
My chest tightens, the sound of his voice hitting me like a punch to the gut. After months of silence—of hurt.
Of missing him.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my tone harder than I’d like it to be.
He looks down at his hands, then back at me.
“I was an idiot,” he blurts, then blows out a long, shaky breath. “I freaked out. Thought as your big brother it was my job to protect you, but I was really just protecting myself. I had this idea that if you and Gareth were together, you guys would forget about me and I’d lose my place in your lives. Turns out, I did that myself.”
My eyes burn, blurring with tears I fight hard to blink away. “The last thing I’d ever want is you out of my life, Dylan. You’re my brother.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Your dickhead brother.”
“Ah, look. Something we can both agree on.” I nudge his arm.
He nods, like he’s finally understanding, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.
The world shifts back into place, and for a second, we’re nine and ten years old again, hanging out like it’s just another weekend.
Out on the field, Gareth glances up at us from third, trying to get a read on what’s happening. His focus keeps getting pulled back to the game, but I can see the tension in him from here.
Dylan lifts his hand in an awkward wave. “Does he hate me?” he asks, voice low and vulnerable.
I look at him—really take a good look at my brother. He looks nervous. Regret etched into his expression.
I shake my head. “No. He doesn’t hate you.”
“Do you?”
The question lingers heavily between us for a beat, but I don’t hesitate with my answer.
“No.”
Tension expels from his body in a shaky breath—one that feels like he’s been holding onto for a while.
It took four months for my brother to find his way back to us.
Four months of thinking, of processing. Of realizing that Gareth and I loving each other doesn’t mean we love him any less.
It’s always been the three of us—me, Dylan, and Gareth.
It will always be the three of us. Our dynamic just looks a little different now.
Dylan’s anger tested the strength of our friendships.
Tested us.
But it didn’t break us.
Gareth bolts to home, stealing the base in a risky yet calculated move, and the crowd roars to life again as his cleat slams through the plate.
The second he knows his play was successful, his head snaps back toward me.
Toward meandDylan.
And he can see by the look on my face that everything’s going to be okay.
