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“You alright?”

Jonah opened his mouth, closed it, dragged both hands down his face.

“I should’ve been there.” The words came out like he’d been holding them inside all day.

“Jonah . . .”

His thumb found his knuckles again. “I knew you were cutting him off. I knew something could happen.”

“No.” It came out sharper than I intended. Jonah studied me for a long moment. I didn’t back down.

“Nobody knew he’d go that far.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “He threatened you.”

I nodded. “My whole life.” Everything went still. There was nothing left to hide.

Jonah stared at me, already trying to make it his fault. I’d spent years carrying blame because it was easier than admitting how little control I’d ever had. I wasn’t about to let him carry something that belonged to Bryant.

“You don’t get to do that.”

His brow furrowed. “Do what?”

“Take responsibility for something that isn’t yours.”

He blew out a slow breath. I kept going.

“You couldn’t have known.”

“Maybe.”

“No.” I waited until he looked back. “You couldn’t.”

Jonah exhaled slowly, long and tired.

“Hey,” I said.

He straightened a little.

“We don’t get to rewrite the past and pretend we would’ve known things we couldn’t know.”

Jonah let out a short laugh. The tension in his shoulders eased. I’d take that as a win. He shook his head.

“You know I would’ve been there.”

“I know.” Years of showing up for each other stretched between us—the kind built less on words and more on being there, again and again, until brothers was the only word that fit.

“You didn’t have to do this alone.”

Words caught in my throat. The landscape painting across the room suddenly became fascinating. Because accepting that someone would have shown up for me was somehow harder than surviving the night itself. But sitting there surrounded by take-out containers, grocery bags, and people who kept showing up whether I asked them to or not . . . I couldn’t pretend I was alone anymore. Maybe I never had been. I just hadn’t known how to see it.

“I know that too.”

Jonah nodded once.

Cali returned with damp hair and one of my old sweatshirts hanging off her shoulder. Without saying a word, she crossed the room, made sure my water was within reach, and laced her hand through mine before settling beside me. Jonah glanced at her, then at me. The smallest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he looked toward the kitchen, like he’d finally seen something he’d been hoping for.

The back door opened. Jace’s voice carried in from the kitchen. “Why is there enough food in this house to survive a natural disaster?”