I swipe my tongue over my teeth. ‘No. Just getting used to you looking this…’ I tip my head, searching for the word. ‘…less terrifying.’
She grins. ‘Enjoy it while it lasts.’
‘Theo says hi. You’re to call her when you’re up for it, not a minute earlier. Her words.’
‘Yeah, I really should check in with her.’ She reaches for her phone. ‘Look at you. Not a single tantrum today. Proud of you, MacRae.’
Before I can reply, her phone trills. She sits up fast, the rugby shirt sliding off one shoulder. Her whole face shifts, softening in an instant when she sees the screen.
‘Button! How are you?’ Her voice wraps around the nickname like melted honey. I pull my legs onto the bed and lean against the headboard next to her, watching. How her thumb worries the edge of my Rebels shirt. How the crease between her brows dissolves.
‘That’s amazing! I knew you could do it!’
Charlie tucks her knees up, drowning in my rugby shirt. Her voice warms, brightens, and I feel it like sunlight through glass.
‘Daddy’s being silly. Ignore him. Remember what Nana said? Harringtons thrive on challenges.’
A pause. Her throat bobs. ‘No, Han. You’re right. It’s okay to be upset. And perfect’s boring. You’re volcanic.’ She shoots me a glare when I grunt. ‘Yeah. Like Beyoncé.’
Charlie’s got this glow about her. Protective, proud. Like there’s nothing in the world she wouldn’t do for this girl.
‘Mum’s right, you got this. And I know you. I know you can do this. If you want it, you go for it. You hear me?’
They chat a bit more – school, friends, some true crime show that Hannah’s obsessed with, a rabbit named Blorbo – before Charlie sighs. ‘Alright, superstar. I’ll call you soon, okay? Love you to the moon and back.’
The call ends. Charlie stares at the screen, thumb hovering for a second longer than necessary. She sets the phone down, but doesn’t let go. Her fingers curl around the edges like she’s holding on.
Her jaw shifts. Not a frown. Not a smile. Something caught between the two.
I say nothing and simply observe. Letting her have the space. Letting her decide if she wants to share whatever it is.
After a long breath, she picks at the hem of my shirt. ‘That was my little sister.’
‘She sounds grand.’
‘She is. God, she’s brilliant. Wilful as hell. Drives me mad sometimes, typical teenager stuff. Hannah’s also got Down’s syndrome, and she’ll be the first to tell you that’s the least interesting thing about her.’ Charlie exhales and leans back into the pillows beside me, her shoulder leaning against mine. ‘Mum got pregnant with her when I was ten. Risky pregnancy and a total accident. But the best kind. Hannah grew up into the most determined kid I’ve ever met. And now she’s sixteen.’
‘Aye, teenagers can be knobs sometimes.’ I grin. ‘But she’s got your fight, then.’
‘Very. And Dad loves her. I know he does. But he…sees her as something he has to protect at all costs. Not a liability, more a responsibility. He thinks her best chance is in a special care home. Somewhere she’ll be “looked after.” My mum and I disagree vehemently.’ She straightens. ‘Hannah doesn’t need constant “looking after”. She needs people who support her, believe in her. Like all of us.’
I don’t hesitate. ‘And you do.’
‘Always have, always will.’
I take that in. ‘Hannah’s lucky to have you.’
‘No. I’m lucky to have her.’
Man, my heart’s full-on breaking right now. It feels like she trusts me with the softest part of her. I bump her foot with mine. ‘Your sister’s got Harrington steel. She’ll outshine the lot of you.’
Her laugh cracks. ‘You’ve never even met her.’
‘You’re her sister. That’s enough.’
She looks at me then. Eyes glinting wet. ‘Callum met her once. At a charity gala last Christmas. Asked Dad why we brought “the slow kid”.’
My gut twists, and I want to smash his face in. Again. ‘Fucking prick.’
