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“And my sister. Yeah.” Fourteen years of medications lined up on the kitchen counter. Hospital go-bags that never got completely unpacked. Their mother sleeping lightly enough to wake at any strange noise from down the hall.

I’d slept lightly, too, listening for any sounds, just in case.

She hadn’t thought about that in years. The nights Shelby came home from another trip to the hospital, Jodie didn’t sleep at all, her ear pressed to the wall as she lay in bed listening to her sister’s breathing on the other side.

“My mom became a nurse because of Shelby. She wanted to understand what was happening to her. Dad ran the ranch, so when something happened, everything just sort of…” She made a small motion with her free hand. “Went into frenzy mode.”

“That must have been scary for you as a kid.”

Jodie’s stomach tightened, remembering Shelby lying on the floor and her mom dropping to her knees beside her, doing what she could. “I was, at first. But then, one of my aunts explained it to me when she came over to watch me while they were at the hospital.”

“Oh, about the seizures?”

“No. She explained what I needed to do to help.”

“What exactly did she explain? How can a little kid help with a situation like that?” His expression turned protective, and Jodie couldn’t help but melt a little.

“Well, not cure her or anything. She explained that Mom and Dad had a lot to deal with. Shelby scared them all the time, and they were tired and worried, so the best way for me to help was by being good all the time.”

Mac’s eyebrows went up. “All the time?”

“I mean…it wasn’t quite as bad as that sounds.” There you go. Defending her already. Jodie stared at Mac’s hand holding hers. “She told me not to make things harder on my family. No tantrums. No whining. Help out when I could. My parents already had enough to worry about with Shelby, so I should never add to it.”

“How old were you?”

“I don’t know. Five or six, maybe?”

“Criminy, Jodie.” The way he said it, the way he absolutely refused to swear in front of her, almost made her laugh, which was probably completely inappropriate right now.

“She meant well, Mac. She was trying to help.”

“I’m sure she was. But criminy.” He shook his head. “That’s a lot to put on a little kid. What did you do?”

“I took her words to heart.” She shrugged. “I always took the smaller piece.”

Mac frowned. “Smaller piece? Of what?”

“Of whatever there was. Birthday cake. Dessert. If there was one piece of chicken that was bigger, I took the other one.” She shrugged. “Hand-me-downs were fine. I never really asked for anything special. If somebody asked what I wanted for my birthday, I usually said I didn’t need anything. I didn’t care.”

Which wasn’t true.

She had cared. She’d simply gotten very good at wanting things quietly.

And dammit, Mac’s gaze had gone soft. If he tipped into pity, she wasn’t sure what she’d do.

“My parents were loving, Mac. I need you to understand that.”

“I do.”

“No.” Jodie looked at him. “Really. They were. They are. They love me. I’ve never doubted that.” His fingers tightened around hers. “But I had a sister who struggled more visibly than I did. And when you’re the kid who doesn’t need rescuing, you don’t get rescued.”

The words came out more easily than she expected. Maybe because she’d known them for a long time without ever saying them out loud.

You’re never the one who gets rescued.

“It’s like…the fires my parents fought were the ones that burned hottest,” she tried to explain. “Shelby was always the hottest fire. I was quiet and capable. I came home with report cards that nobody praised because straight-As were just expected of me.”

Mac’s expression tightened, but he let her keep talking.