And they kept going.
I see it now, standing here. They’re not boys anymore. They’ve grown into themselves in ways I wasn’t around to see. It hits me for the first time—time didn’t stop just because I disappeared.
Lachie moves first, grabbing me, pulling me in. A proper hug without hesitation or holding back. It goes longer than it should, but neither of us pulls away.
Brayden’s next. Hard clap on the back, then he wraps me up the same way.
Jarrah hangs back a second, then steps in—hand to the back of my neck. Doesn’t say anything.
“Come in,” I say, once I find my voice.
We end up in the kitchen where Charlotte is.
“Charlotte, these are the blokes I grew up with—Lachlan, Brayden, Jarrah.”
She smiles. “I remember you. Nice to see you again.”
All three of them look at her at once. There’s a brief pause where no one says anything. I can see it—trying to reconcile the kid they remember with the woman standing in front of them now.
“Right,” she says, pushing off the counter. “I’ll leave you to it. You’ve got a lot to catch up on.” A brief glance at me. “I’ve got plenty to do around here.”
She heads off toward the laundry. I follow her with my eyes for a second, then turn back.
Brayden lasts about a second.
“Mate,” he says, still looking down the hallway she disappeared into. “Your sister?—”
“Don’t.”
“I’m just saying?—”
“I know exactly what you’re going to say, Bray.Don’t.”
Jarrah drops his gaze straight away. Lachie lets out a quiet laugh, not helping.
Brayden shakes his head, like he’s genuinely thrown. “Nah, but—bloody hell. She’s—” He gestures, searching for something that fits and not finding it. “That’s not what I expected.”
“Stop.”
“I’m serious. She’s a proper stunner.” He glances at me, then back toward the hall like he can still see her there. “You were stuck out there with her all those years, I reckon I would’ve?—”
“Don’t finish that sentence.”
He does anyway, because he always does. “—had a real hard time remembering she was my sister.”
“Brayden—” Lachie warns.
“Not saying I would’ve.” He scrubs a hand over his face, trying to backtrack. “Because that’d be fucked up.”
“Shut the fuck up about Charlotte. I mean it.”
The room goes quiet.
He lifts his hands. “All right. Fair. No bloke wants to hear that kind of talk about his sister.”
Lachie’s still watching me, a bit more serious now.
“Since when are you like this though? You used to hate her.”
