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I’ve known that about him my whole life in some quiet, unspoken way. Tonight is just the first time I’ve let myself say it, even if only to myself.

I’m not going to change that by explaining it clearly enough or hurting badly enough for him to finally understand. I’ve spent my whole life waiting for a brother who apparently doesn’t exist—not the real one—and continuing to wait for it isn’t loyalty. It’s just a slower way of hurting myself.

“Thank you for actually apologizing,” I say, and I mean it, even if the apology didn’t land the way I might have hoped it would. “I appreciate you saying it out loud.”

“So we’re okay?”

“We’re going to be okay.” I let that sit for a second, choosing the words with real intention, wanting them to be true rather than just comforting. “I’m not upset with you anymore. I think I just needed you to actually hear it, once, out loud. Now I have, and I can let it go.”

“Does that mean Poppy can still come visit?”

The question makes me laugh despite everything, sharp and surprised, exactly the kind of thing only Caleb would ask right after a conversation like this one. “Yes, Caleb. Poppy can still come visit. This was never about her.”

“Okay. Good, that’s really good to hear.” Relief floods his voice, easy and immediate, already moving past the hard part of this conversation the way he moves past everything hard. “I really am glad you’re okay, Harper. I mean that.”

“I know you do.” And I do know it, in whatever limited way he’s capable of meaning anything right now. That has to be enough now, not because it’s fair, but because it’s simply true, and pretending otherwise has cost me more than accepting it ever will.

We say goodbye a few minutes later, easier than the conversation that came before it, and I sit there on the edge of my bed for a long while after he hangs up, feeling something settle in my chest that isn’t quite peace and isn’t quite grief either.

Somewhere in between the two, close enough to both that I don’t need a cleaner word for it, a feeling I suspect I’ll be carrying for a long time regardless of what I end up calling it.

I don’t expect more from him now. Not because I’ve given up on him, but because I’ve finally stopped asking a person to be something he was never built to be, and there’s a strange, quiet relief in setting that particular weight down after carrying it for so long.

My phone buzzes once more, a photo of Poppy in a ridiculous sun hat that Caleb’s already sent as a peace offering, and I smile at it despite everything, because some things really are that simple, even when the people involved aren’t.

44

HARPER

Caleb brings Poppy by the following weekend, and I wait until she’s down for her nap in the guest room before I bring up the one thing I never got around to saying on the phone.

I’ve been rehearsing this conversation in my head for days, wanting to get the framing right, wanting him to understand from the very first sentence that this isn’t a continuation of last week’s harder conversation, that it’s something else entirely, separate and steady in a way last week’s phone call never quite managed to be.

“I want to talk about Poppy for a minute.” I keep my voice easy, deliberately different from the tone I used last week, since this conversation isn’t about airing old wounds at all. “Specifically, about the fact that whatever’s true about you and me, none of it changes anything about her.”

Caleb sets his coffee down slowly, some wariness creeping into his expression like he’s bracing for round two of last week’s conversation, his shoulders already tensing in anticipation of something he doesn’t want to hear, the same defensive posture he’s carried into every hard conversation we’ve ever had. “Okay.”

“I’m not cutting her out of my life,” I say it plainly, no hedging, wanting there to be zero ambiguity about where I stand. “I don’t care how complicated things get between us. She didn’t choose her parents. She didn’t choose any of the ways you’ve let me down over the years, and I’m not going to let my own hurt cost her the one relationship in this family that’s never let either of us down.” I pause, letting the weight of that settle before I continue. “That’s not up for negotiation. Not now, not ever.”

His shoulders drop, visible relief loosening the tension he’s been carrying since he walked in the door today. “I wasn’t sure you’d still want that. After everything.”

“Poppy has nothing to do with everything.” I lean forward, wanting him to actually hear this part clearly. “You and I can be complicated. We probably always will be, honestly, and I’ve made my peace with that. But she gets to have an aunt who shows up, who remembers her favorite stuffed animal, who actually wants to know her as she grows up instead of just seeing her in photos you send every few months. That’s not something I’m willing to let go of just because things between us got complicated.”

“That’s fair.” He nods, and for once there’s no defensiveness underneath it, just quiet acceptance, the kind I haven’t seen much of from him over the years. “I know I’m not owed anything more than that from you now. Not after last week.”

“I’m not punishing you by staying close to Poppy, if that’s what you’re thinking. This isn’t a consolation prize.” I soften slightly, since I don’t want him walking away thinking this is some kind of guilt payout, some transaction meant to make up for what I said last week. “This is just me deciding what actually matters most to me right now, separate from everything else. And she matters. A lot.”

He’s quiet for a moment, turning that over, and something in his expression shifts into something closer to genuine gratitude than I’ve seen from him in longer than I can remember, the kind of unguarded look he doesn’t usually let show. “Thank you. For not letting this affect her.”

“I’d never do that to her.” I mean it fully, the same certainty I felt calling him last week finally settling into something even steadier now that I’m saying it out loud. “But I need this to work on my terms going forward. Not yours. I’ll come to you when I want visits, not just whenever it’s convenient for your schedule. And if I need distance from you specifically for a while, that doesn’t mean distance from her too. We figure that part out separately.”

“That’s fair,” he says again, and this time I believe he actually means it, some real understanding finally landing instead of just words offered to smooth things over, his eyes staying on mine longer than they usually do when he’s actually taking something in rather than just waiting for his turn to speak.

Poppy wakes from her nap not long after that, and I’m the one who goes to get her before Caleb even stands up, some old instinct kicking in that has nothing to do with him at all, just the simple, uncomplicated pull toward a small person who’s never once let me down.

She quiets the second I lift her, settling against my shoulder with a small, contented sound that undoes something in my chest every single time.

I carry her back into the sitting room, bouncing gently, and her whole face lights up when she spots the sunlight coming through the window, tiny hand reaching for it like she’s trying to catch something she doesn’t have words for yet.