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My hands hover because I don’t know where to touch first. Him? The baby? Both? Finally I settle one hand on his shoulder and the other lightly over Tilly’s head, enough to reassure myself that she’s truly alright.

Ollie lifts his head, his face undoing me. His eyes are swollen and bloodshot, his thick lashes wet, and skin blotchy.

“She’s gone.” Ollie’s voice is so hoarse the words barely sound like him. “Livia left.” My stomach drops hard enough to make me feel sick. “She took everything she could carry before skipping town. I tried to keep it together for Chase and Tilly, but I can’t. I’m so lost,” he continues.

“Oh, Ollie.”

It comes out wrecked. I don’t even try to stop the tears stinging my eyes from falling. Whatever words I rehearsed dissolve into nothingness because none of them matter anymore. We'll figure this out together. That's what’s important.

“I’m so sorry.” The words spill out of me. “I’m so, so sorry.”

For last night. For leaving and not being here. For his sister. For him, Chase and Tilly. For every wrong thing.

I lift Tilly into my embrace before wrapping one arm around Ollie. His forehead drops against my shoulder. The sound he makes is small, heartbreaking and far worse than if he had shouted.

“I’m here,” I whisper into his hair. “I’m here. I’ve got you. I’ve got you both.”

His body shakes, each tremor running straight through me. We stay like that for a long time. Ollie’s breathing turns ragged, catching every few seconds like he can’t get enough air around the grief. Slowly, little by little, it evens out. Tilly shifts between us with a sleepy sigh, one fist tangled in the fabric of Ollie’s shirt like it often is. The sight of that nearly undoes me all over again. She has no idea what just happened. She only knows the shape of comfort when it finds her.

Eventually, Ollie leans back a little, swiping the heel of his hand under his eyes, avoiding my gaze.

“I should’ve known,” he mumbles. “I should’ve fucking seen it.”

“Don’t do that to yourself. You wanted to believe your sister had come home for the right reasons.”

His gaze drops to Tilly. He strokes one thumb over the back of her head with care, and when he speaks again his voice goes rougher. “Chase got home after seeing a friend and she was screaming in the crib.” His throat works hard around the next words. “She’d soaked through her diaper and was shaking so hard she could barely breathe right.”

My hand flies to my mouth. He closes his eyes. “I don't know how long she'd been alone. I don't know when Livia left. I just...” He breaks off, jaw clenching. “I kept thinking what if Chase had gotten home later. What if something worse had happened. What if she'd been there alone for hours.”

His grip tightens around Tilly until he catches himself and loosens it.

“I wasn't there,” he whispers, the words sounding like a confession. “She needed someone and I was sanding a damn car while she cried for me.”

My heart cracks clean in two. “You couldn't have known,” I say, taking his face between my hands until he has no choice but to look at me. “Ollie, listen to me. You didn't leave her. You went to work because you trusted your sister. You did nothing wrong.”

His eyes fill again. “I still should've been with Tilly.”

“No.” I stroke away his tears with my hand. “The only person who failed Tilly today is the one who walked away from her.”

He closes his eyes, leaning into my touch like he's too exhausted to hold himself upright any longer.

“I changed her, calmed her down, then tried to get information out of Chase who was nearly hysterical.” He gestures around the room, fury and grief swirling in his bloodshot eyes. “That's when I realized half of the stuff was gone. My records, guitars, the fucking TV. All gone.”

I slide my hand down until I can thread my fingers through his. “Things are just that; things. Everything is replaceable. All that matters is that Tilly is safe and you found her in time.”

Ollie looks at me then, exhausted, and there’s something so stripped bare in his expression that I nearly cry again in sympathy. “What do we do now?” he asks in a whisper.

Taking a slow breath, I glance around the half-emptied room. “First, you call the police and report everything she took,” I say gently before he can protest. “I know she’s your sister. But she stole from you and abandoned a baby. You can’t keep waiting and hoping she’ll change. You gave her that chance more than once.”

He drags a hand over his face. “I sometimes wish I didn’t.”

“You don’t mean it. You’re upset. But hear this; if she’s selling the stuff, the sooner you report it the better.” Ollie nods once, looking miserable. “We need to make a list of everything that’s missing. The police will need any serial numbers you have and every receipt—basically anything that helps.” Another nod. “And after that, we do whatever we need to do to make this place feel safe again.”

That finally earns the faintest change in his expression. Not a smile exactly. Just the tiniest release of tension. He surveys the room again, eyes catching on every missing item.

“It’s not even the stuff,” he says after another sweep of the space. “Not really. I mean, yeah, some of it mattered. But it’s…” His voice roughens. “It’s her. Livia came back and for one stupid, hopeful moment I thought maybe we’d get our sister back. Maybe Tilly would get her mom back. And instead she used us and left without a word.”

“You can love your sister and still admit she hurt you,” I say, keeping my tone gentle and understanding.