Page 142 of Break Me

Then he folds me against him with both arms, holding me so tightly it almost hurts.

I feel his breath hitch against my shoulder.

Another one.

His fingers tighten in the back of my shirt.

"I've got you," I whisper, my own tears slipping free. "I've got you."

He buries his face against my shoulder, and for the first time in my life, my big brother lets me be the one holding him together.

Raven

Nothing about my father's house has changed.

The white siding still catches the last light of the evening. The porch swing hangs perfectly still, though I can't remember the last time he actually sat in it. A weathered wind chime turns lazily beside the front door, filling the quiet with soft, familiar notes.

Everything looks exactly as it always has. Only I don't.

The engine goes quiet. Sam's hand finds mine where it rests on my knee, his fingers threading through mine with an ease that needs no words.

He doesn't ask if I'm ready.

He already knows there isn't a way to be.

The porch boards creak beneath our feet, the sound as familiar as my own heartbeat. My father opens the door before we have a chance to knock. Warm air spills out around us. Dad smiles when he sees us. It lasts only a second. His eyes find my face, and his smile disappears.

Parents always know.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

He steps aside without a word.

The familiar living room wraps around me as we walk inside. My gaze goes straight to the photograph above the fireplace.

Mom.

She's smiling at the camera, frozen in a moment untouched by everything that came after.

Young.

Healthy.

Alive.

Dad follows my eyes.

He doesn't say anything.

Neither do I.

After a long silence, he motions toward the couch.

We sit.

Sam stays beside me, his hand resting lightly against my back.

My father lowers himself into the chair across from us, elbows braced on his knees, watching me the way he used to when I was a kid and trying to tell him something I didn’t want to say out loud.