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I arch an eyebrow. “I don't remember thanking you.”
“You were about to.”
Livia snorts beside me as she takes the strawberry watermelon lemonade he bought her. “He's gotten cocky.”
“I've always been cocky,” Chase says with a shrug. “You two just never noticed because I was shorter.”
“That's not how personality works,” I point out, wondering how this is the same guy who's on the Dean's List and on track to graduate first in his class.
He shrugs again. “Says who?”
“The entire field of psychology.”
“Sounds like they made that up.”
“That’s rich coming from the guy who thinks engineers can solve every problem with duct tape and a spreadsheet.”
“At least we solve problems.”
I bump my shoulder into his. “Keep talking.”
He laughs, easily knocking me back with his own. “Touched a nerve, did I?”
Before I can answer, a blur of children run past us, one of them clipping me with a muttered, “sorry,” before racing after the others. Their laughter trails behind them as they disappear toward the playground. My gaze drops to Tilly, still sleeping peacefully in her stroller. It's strange to think that one day she'll be one of those kids running around with scraped knees and sticky fingers, begging to stay outside a little longer to catch one more firework.
I can't wait to watch her grow up. To find out who she becomes and be there for all the moments along the way. For now, though, I’m content to watch her sleep while my siblings and I wander through the city with nowhere we need to be.
We stop at a street fair next, where Chase decides to buy a ridiculous Fourth of July headband with glittery stars bouncing on springs.
“I had no idea kitsch was your color,” I say when he puts it on.
Livia covers her mouth, but her laugh escapes anyway. “You look so silly.”
Chase gives the stars an exaggerated shake, making them wobble wildly above his head. Livia laughs harder, and I find myself watching her instead of him. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her this carefree, without something dark waiting behind the smile. I missed this version of my sister so much that having even a glimpse of her again almost feels unfair.
My brother grabs another one from the table and holds it out to me. “Your turn.”
“I'd rather lick the sidewalk.”
“Coward,” he mutters.
I shake my head. “Keep pushing. I can absolutely lower the maturity level of this conversation.”
“Olls, you're arguing with a man wearing antennas. Better stop before you lose,” Livia comments with another giggle.
The sound comes easier every time, and there it is again, that flicker of the girl she used to be. Then it hits me. Olls. She used the nickname she gave me when she was little, and my chest tightens even more. It's the same one that inspired me to call Tilly Tills. I never told anyone that, not even Peyton.
Chase buys the headband and convinces Livia to wear it. Our sister rolls her eyes walking to the display the next table over, but she doesn't take it off. For the next block, the glittery stars bounce above her head as she sips the last of her lemonade and pretends not to notice me watching her again.
“What?” Livia asks eventually.
“Nothing.”
“Don’t look at me like that. You’re making me feel bad.”
That’s the last thing I wanted. I wasn't looking at her to make her feel guilty or other negative feelings. I was looking because I still can’t quite believe she’s here. Guilt has already taken enough from her. I don't want to become another reason she carries such a heavy burden.
“Like what?” I ask.
