“I knew this was a mistake.” She turns abruptly toward the door. “I should go. Rowan’s place isn’t that far.”
“Stop.” I’m in front of her. “I’m not judging you. I’m worried.”
“You don’t have to be,” she shoots back. “People argue with their fiancés. It’s normal.”
“Then let me help. I can call him, or we can talk it through, or—”
“You can’t.”
The air goes brittle.
“Piper, I’m trying to understand. Did he hurt you? Because if he so much as—”
“No!” she shouts, the sound ricocheting off my ceilings. “He didn’t hurt me. I just need somewhere to stay where I’m not being… handled.”
Handled?
I feel the instinct rise in me—the fixer. The manager. The one who smooths. Who negotiates. Who rearranges the emotional furniture until everyone can breathe again.
“I’m just trying to take care of things,” I tell her.
“That’s the problem, Madison!” she bursts. “You always think you have to fix everything. You takeover. You manage us. I’m not Mom. You don’t need to fix me so you can feel better about yourself.”
Her hands fly over her mouth, but it’s too late. Her words hit like a slap.
The lump in my throat is threatening to choke me, but I swallow around it.
“Madi, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just stressed and—”
“You did mean it,” I say, keeping my voice steady even though my chest feels like it’s cracking open. “And you’re not wrong. I do try to fix things, but only because I’ve had to.”
“Nobody asked you to.”
“You were children,” I snap before I can stop myself. “You didn’t have to ask.”
“You were a child too. You’re two years older than me,” she whispers. “You never let us. You never asked for help.”
“It wasn’t your job, Piper!”
“And it’s yours?”
There it is.
The fracture line.
Piper and Rowan always had each other. Noah and I were the wall. We stood at the front door and absorbed whatever version of Mom showed up that day.
I knew Piper and Rowan were closer. I told myself it didn’t matter, but it still hurts
“Then why is it that everyone comes to me when everything is falling apart?” I ask, and this time my voice shakes. “Why am I only needed in a crisis? I’m the one you call at two in the morning. I handle the doctors and the messes. If I’m not fixing things, Piper, what exactly am I to this family?”
She breaks. The bag slips from her hand and hits the floor. She sinks down with it, folding in on herself as sobs rip from her.
And just like that, the anger leaves me.
I drop beside her and pull her into my arms, tucking her head under my chin like I’ve done a hundred times before.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into her hair. “I’m sorry, Piper. You don’t need this tonight.”
