“We need to triage,” Daniel continued, already in problem-solving mode. “First, you cap orders temporarily so you don’t die. Then we outsource parts of production—cutting, base assembly—stuff you don’t need to personally touch for quality control.”
I nodded slowly, following his logic. “I can still do the finishing work. The details. That’s what people care about.”
“Exactly,” he said. “You don’t scale by burning yourself out. You scale by protecting what makes it yours. God, you’re lucky I’m a business major and love numbers.”
“Yes, so lucky. So grateful,” I deadpanned.
“Hey, I’m your favorite sibling. Be nicer to me.”
I snorted, relieved at the joke because this was serious. I stared at the screen again, the numbers feeling heavier now that they’d been said out loud. This wasn’t validation. This was responsibility.
“And insurance,” Daniel added. “You need it. Business insurance. Liability. Probably an LLC. I can help you look into it this week.”
I laughed weakly. “Since when do you know about this stuff?”
He shrugged. “Since watching you hustle babysitting my entire childhood and realizing no one ever had your back the way they should’ve. I know we tease, but a huge reason I want to major in business is because ofyou.”
That hit harder than I expected. I swallowed and nodded, not trusting myself to respond right away. My throat ached, and I wanted to yank my brother against me and not let him go. I didn’t though and took a deep breath.
By the time we finished sketching out a rough plan—materials list, timeline, who we could rope into helping—my phonebuzzed on the table. Noah’s name lit up the screen, and my heart did that stupid, traitorous thing again.
Noah: Be home in ten.
“Showtime,” Daniel said, smirking. “I’m gonna pretend I’m normal about this.”
I snorted, standing up as I glanced toward the door. The anxiety, the excitement, the relief—all of it tangled together. He was coming home. To me.
The door hadn’t even fully shut behind him before Daniel made a strangled noise that sounded like awe and disbelief wrapped together. Kinda sounded like a cat, and I couldn’t stop my laugh. Noah barely had time to drop his duffel before my brother was on his feet, eyes wide, posture suddenly rigid like he was meeting a celebrity instead of the man whose socks he’d tripped over earlier.
“Oh my god,” Daniel blurted out. “You’re real. You’reactuallyreal. I mean, I knew that, obviously, but this is different. This is in-the-flesh, post-game, beast-mode Noah Abbott.”
Noah blinked once, clearly exhausted, then laughed, the sound rough but genuine. “Hey, man,” he said, holding up a hand. “You must be Daniel.”
Daniel nodded way too fast. “Yes. Yes, I am. Big fan. Huge fan. Also, thank you for letting me exist in your apartment today. I did not touch anything important. Probably.”
Noah grinned, shoulders loosening a bit. “You’re welcome here,” he said easily. “Em’s family is my family.”
That sentence hit me square in the chest, sharp and warm all at once, but before I could even process it, Noah’s gaze shifted past Daniel. His eyes locked onto the couch.
Miles.
The change in him was immediate. His posture softened, urgency replacing everything else as he crossed the room inthree long strides. He dropped to his knees in front of the couch, hands already reaching out.
“Hey, buddy,” he murmured, brushing a hand through Miles’s hair. “I’m home.”
Miles stirred, eyes blinking open, then widened when he registered who was in front of him. “Uncle Noah!” He launched himself forward, arms wrapping around Noah’s neck with full force. “You won!”
Noah hugged him tight, eyes closing as he pressed his face into Miles’s shoulder. His shoulders sagged, the tension draining out of him. My stomach churned about his text earlier. Something had to happen for him to be this worried.
“I did,” he said quietly. “And you were safe the whole time?”
Miles nodded enthusiastically. “Ms. Em and Daniel were here. And Sassy. And we watched you. You were awesome.”
Noah laughed softly, pulling back enough to look at him. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
Only then did he stand, turning toward me. The look on his face shifted again—still tired, still raw, but now something else layered underneath. Relief. Concern. Something close to awe.
I didn’t wait for him to close the distance.
