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“No,” I breathe, my gaze darting around, my pulse hammering in my ears. “No fucking way.”

I crash on the floor, my legs unable to hold me up any longer, and pull my niece close, grasping for the last pieces of my composure for her sake. She buries her face against my chest. I wrap both arms around her, shielding her from the realization crushing me.

Chase lowers himself onto the couch instead of beside me, elbows resting on his knees as he stares at the floor. He can't even look at me. Poor guy.

“Start talking,” I tell my brother in a controlled voice, trying to keep my shit together for all of us like always.

He drags both hands over his face before grabbing a tissue from the coffee table. “I went to see a friend for an hour. I left Livia alone with Tilly because I thought it was safe.”

The guilt on Chase's face is unmistakable, as if he's convicted himself and is waiting for the sentencing.

“Hey, buddy.” I wait until he looks at me. “You didn't do anything wrong.”

“She took care of her during those first few months. I never imagined…”

His voice breaks on the last word. Neither did I, to be honest. After the last few days, I would've trusted Livia with Tilly too.

“What happened when you got back?” I ask next.

Chase swallows hard before answering. “Tilly was all alone, crying. I just... lost it. I didn't know what to do.”

“You did what you could.” I bounce Tilly against my shoulder, never taking my eyes off my brother. “I'm here now.”

“But I should've stayed.”

I shake my head. “You couldn't have known.”

“Still, I trusted her after everything.” His shoulders cave inward, like the admission physically hurts. “And she left us…again.”

“You can’t blame yourself for others’ actions, Chase.”

“I'm just so damn sorry,” he whispers, his eyes filling with moisture again.

“It isn't your fault, okay?” I keep my voice as steady as I can, even though mine wants to crack too. I need him to believe me, because there’s nothing either of us can do now, other than care for Tilly.

“Why?” he asks in a broken voice. “Why did she leave me?”

Instead of the young man sitting in front of me, all I can see is the little boy who had to be pulled away from me by two adults when they sent me to a different foster home my senior year. The boy who screamed my name until his voice broke. Who fought against the arms holding him back because, once again, someone he loved was leaving, and no one had bothered to give him a reason that made sense.

I wish I had one for him now. Something logical. Something that could make all of this hurt less. But that’s the cruel thing about addiction. It makes people we love do hurtful things and leaves the rest of us trying to figure out why love wasn’t enough to make them stop.

“Sometimes even love can’t keep someone from leaving. We did all we could,” I tell him, but the words sound hollow even to my own ears. Maybe because I've heard versions of them my whole life from different people walking away.

It takes a few more minutes for the ugly truth to completely settle into place. Livia is gone and she took everything she could carry. Well, almost everything. She has once again left her child behind. Not because she forgot her. Because she chose to.

I don't cry at the realization. Instead, I sit there on the living room floor, Tilly tucked safely against me. I stare at the empty space where my records used to be. The same ones I spent years collecting. My mind keeps searching for another explanation, some other version of the events where everything makes sense. Maybe Livia panicked. Maybe she intended to come back. Maybe...

No.

The apartment is too empty for her to come back. The missing electronics and other valuables weren't an impulse. She packed them and carried them out. My sister had to make more than one trip to get everything. Then she walked away while her daughter cried herself hoarse in the next room.

Across from me, Chase has gone quiet. Neither of us knows what to say. There aren't words big enough for this kind of betrayal. Tilly lets out a hiccup in her sleep. The small sound breaks another fragile part of me that was holding on by sheer will until this very moment.

Before I lose control completely, I ease her into the bouncer. Folding forward, I bury my face in my hands as the first sob tears free. Another follows before I can catch my breath.

“I'm sorry,” I choke out, though I don't even know who I'm apologizing to anymore. “I'm so sorry I couldn’t make her stay.”

The room swims as tears spill faster than I can wipe them away. Across from me, Chase folds in on himself, one hand covering his mouth as if he can hold the sound inside. He can’t. A broken sob slips through his fingers, then another, until his shoulders are shaking and there’s nothing I can do but reach for him. So I do. We sit on the floor with Tilly between us, neither of us keeping track of how long we stay there.