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“You chose to help me,” he says sullenly. “You can’t throw it in my face now.”

I stare at him in disbelief; nothing is ever going to change with him.

“I chose to help my brother. But I didn’t choose to spend years being punished for loving him.”

“You always make yourself the victim.”

I reach down and turn the engine off. “No, Rowan. You did that.” The sudden silence between us makes the car feel claustrophobic. “Every time I said no, you reminded me that Mom would be ashamed. Every time I tried to step away, you said Dad never would have abandoned you. You used two dead people to keep me exactly where you wanted me.”

“I was struggling.”

“So was I.” My voice cracks, and Rowan flinches, but I don’t stop. “I was grieving too. I lost them too. But I had to figure out the bills and the house after you spent all the money they left us. I had to make sure Leni had what she needed. And I had to keep making excuses for you, so she didn’t see our brother the way I did.”

“I love Leni.”

“Not enough.” I shake my head as cars fly past the gas station, though none stop in. The world continues around us, while inside this car, everything is the same as it always is. “Leni watched men come into the house looking for you. She watched me come home covered in bruises. Learned to check the door was locked at least three times before going to bed.” Rowan’s gaze drops to his hands. “She knows the sound of you on nights you came home drunk, so she could go straight to her room.” I feel a tremendous relief lift off my shoulders at finally telling him. “Leni left for college and barely comes home. And I was glad because I knew she was safe. My biggest regret was failing her.”

“You didn’t fail her, Val.”

“I know that now. You did.” His face tightens at my words. “You failed us both.”

“Valli—”

“No, it’s your turn to listen. I have held this in for so many years.” He leans his head back against the seat and closes his eyes. “I paid your debts, I lied for you, I gave you money meant for bills, I let you sleep in the house after you stole from me.” His eyes open. “And I forgave you after you hit me.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“You were only sorry because you needed something from me.”

“That isn’t true.”

I sigh. “Yes, it is.” He looks at me, and I feel the excuses coming before he even opens his mouth. “Every apology, every promise, lasts only until you want something.”

He runs his hand through his hair and has the nerve to look sad. “You don’t know what addiction is like.”

“No, maybe I don’t,” I say, leaning back in my seat, suddenly exhausted. “But I know what loving an addict is like.” The anger drains from me, only leaving hurt behind. “I know what it’s like to spend every day wondering whether the next call I get will tell me you’re dead. I know what it is to hate you and to hate myself for hating you. And I know what it is to wish you would disappear and then panic when you finally do.”

His eyes glisten with tears. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Well, you did. You broke me more than our parents dying.”

“I’m sick,” he says, and I can’t disagree.

“And I’m tired of living like this.”

It’s the truth; I am tired. Tired of saving him, tired of his excuses, tired of letting the memory of who he used to be outweigh the person he is now.

Rowan wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “You’re supposed to help me.”

“I did.”

He shakes his head; my words clearly only affected him for a second. “Then help me now.”

“I am.”

He looks at me, and I no longer see who he was—I only see the man sitting in front of me.

“How, by dumping me at a gas station?” Rowan snorts in disbelief.