"Everyone tried to shield me from the drama back then."
"It was ugly, Janie." The words slip out before I can stop them. "But I was proud I stood up. I couldn’t lie on the stand. Not about that."
"That girl who died…" Her voice is soft, careful.
"Melissa Thornton. Seventeen. Early acceptance to Cornell." My throat tightens. "Charlie got six years. Served four. My parents made sure it wasn’t more."
Her eyes search mine. "And you lost everything."
I shake my head. "Not everything. I got your family."
The truth of it hangs between us, heavier than smoke.
Janie smiles slowly. "I remember Blake bringing you home that day and my mom telling me you'd be staying with us for a while. It's so crazy how everything from that time is so clear. I even remember she made lasagna for dinner that night."
"Yeah. I remember it, too. I remember thinking I had to show them how much I appreciated being welcomed in. Your dad did that thing with his two fingers to his eyes and then to mine at dinner, like he had his eye on me."
We both laugh, the memory softening into something almost innocent.
"Big, scary Hank," she teases. "I was nine. Young. Impressionable."
"Fair enough." I set the poker back down and lean back, crossing my arms. "I would have done the same if my kid brought home a stray."
"You weren't a stray," she says quietly. "You're family, and still are."
Her gaze lingers, steady and unflinching. And for a moment, I'm stripped down. I'm not the polished lawyer or the man who pulled himself up after being disowned by my family. I'm the kid who lost everything and somehow found something better in their home.
She leans closer, the blanket slipping from her shoulder. Firelight plays across her collarbone, catches in the waves of her hair. I notice the small freckle near her ear, the curve where her neck meets her shoulder.
I notice more than I should.
Janie pulls the blanket tighter, studying me through the firelight. "You and Blake, y'all are tight. I love the friendship you share."
I run my thumb along a splinter in the chair arm, thinking back. "Yeah. I'm grateful for him. He saved me, in a lot of ways."
The fire snaps, sending sparks into the dark. "That’s why Blake and I will always be brothers," I say. "Not by blood, but…" I tap my chest, the gesture finishing the thought.
Janie’s smile curves gently. "He’d say the same about you. Honestly, I think you’ve been as much a rock for him as he’s been for you."
I glance at her, surprised. Most people only ever saw Blake pulling me through. But she says it like it’s obvious, like she’s been watching all along.
"Maybe," I murmur, turning the poker in the embers. The warmth isn’t just from the fire anymore.
The firelight catches the angles of her face, softeningthem. For the first time, I am keenly aware that I don't see her like a little sister at all.
My mouth goes dry. I need to change the subject before these thoughts go somewhere dangerous.
"Are you scared? About Chicago?"
The question hangs between us. For a moment, I think she'll deflect with something clever like she does.
Instead, she looks directly at me. "Yes."
Just one word, but the honesty in it pulls me in. No pretense, no brave face.
"I've never lived anywhere but here," she continues. "What if I'm terrible at living on my own, away from here? What if I fail spectacularly and have to slink back home with my tail between my legs?"
"You won't."