I shifted on my feet, hands clenching into fists so hard my knuckles cracked.
Graham reached out and squeezed my shoulder. I leaned into his firm hold, needing something to ground me.
“Palmer didn’t cause the fire,” Graham said. “And caring about her now doesn’t mean you failed Jess, even back then.”
I looked up at the sky. It was a dark shade of blue, between the thick gray clouds that covered the sun. My vision swam with tears that I fought, willing them to sink back into my skull.
“It feels like it does,” I admitted, my voice cracking.
His hand tightened on my shoulder. “I know,” he said. “But feeling something doesn’t make it true. If you would’ve stayed at the hospital, Jess still would’ve died. There’s nothing you could have done.”
My chest hitched. I couldn’t speak.
“Jess was your wife. She was Hailey’s mother. Nothing will change that.” He paused. “But Palmer doesn’t become wrong just because she came after.”
The clouds above shifted, exposing a ray of sun that warmed my face.
“You are allowed to miss Jess,” Graham said, softer now. “You’re allowed to grieve her. And you’re also allowed to care about someone else.”
I dragged a hand over my mouth.
“It doesn’t erase what you had,” he said. “And it doesn’t dishonor her. You don’t have to keep punishing yourself forever just because life was cruel to you.”
I lowered my chin, finally facing my brother. His words settled somewhere deep. They weren’t enough to fix what had been twisted up inside me, but enough to make something shift, to loosen the knot a little.
“Thanks.” My voice was low and rough.
Graham gave a half smile, but there was still some worry in his expression. “I’m always here for you.”
I nodded. “I know.”
We lingered in the yard for a while longer as I collected myself and stored his words into my heart, where I’d hoped they’d stay.
When I was composed and ready to face everyone back at the house, I turned. “Let’s go.”
Whenwewalkedinthrough the back door into the kitchen, warmth and the smell of breakfast wrapped around us. Palmer stood at the stove, carefully flipping bacon with a pair of tongs. She already had a mountainous platter of scrambled eggs sitting beside the almost full bacon one.
I scowled at her, immediately going to her side. The conversation with Graham was pushed to the back of my mind as I gently plucked the tongs out of her bandaged hands.
“I told you, you didn’t need to make breakfast.”
She glared back at me. “I’m fine.” She rolled her eyes. “Besides, the doctor said it’s good to move my fingers and hands. It’s important so the skin heals correctly,” she huffed.
But I didn’t let her take her place back at the stove. “Go sit at the table.”
Palmer pursed her lips, but didn’t argue. I should’ve known the moment I told her not to cook that it was futile.
Taking care of people was stitched into her DNA.
Reid let out a low whistle. “It smells amazing. I’m starving.”
“Grab a plate,” I said, watching the last couple pieces of bacon so they didn’t burn.
“The eggs are from a carton,” Palmer said, as if she hadn’t done enough. “I can’t really crack eggs with my hands, so I hope that’s all right.”
I turned around and shot my brothers a glare that said if any one of them complained, they’d have to deal with me. Lucky for them, they didn’t.
I pointed my tongs at Palmer. “Sit your ass down, Golden,” I warned playfully.
