She recognized it immediately—heavy and suffocating and impossible to outrun.
They needed to talk.
She’d put it off all morning, telling herself that he needed time. That she needed time. But the necessary conversation was like a live grenade.
“Tess?”
She hadn’t realized Andy had come out of his room. He stood at the end of the hallway to her left, just beyond the back of the couch, hovering like he wasn’t sure he was welcome to step into the living room. He appeared taller somehow. Thinner. Older—as if he’d aged five years in the past twenty-four hours.
His eyes were red-rimmed, lashes clumped slightly. He’d been crying.
Her chest tightened.
She pushed herself upright too quickly, pain flaring through her ribs as the sudden movement made the blanket slide from her shoulder.
His gasp echoed her own.
“Are you?—”
“I’m fine,” she said automatically, even though her pulse sprinted.
“You’re not fine.” His voice was rougher than usual. Sadder.
She forced a small smile. “I’m working on it.”
He didn’t smile back.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hands fisting and flexing at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. He couldn’t quite meet her eyes. When he did, it lasted less than a second before his gaze dropped to the floor again.
He was ashamed, and the realization made her stomach twist.
“Do you hate me?” he asked, as if the words cost him something.
The question undid her more than any memory had. “I could never hate you, Andy. You’re my brother—I love you, and nothing will ever change that.”
She pushed herself upright and let the blanket fall the rest of the way to her lap, needing to be closer to him. “Come here.”
He hesitated, then crossed the room, stopping just out of her reach.
Up close, she could see the faint puffiness beneath his eyes.
She couldn’t avoid the conversation they needed to have anymore. Lifting her hand, she patted the cushion beside her. “Sit down.”
He lowered himself onto the couch, like the air had gone out of him—shoulders slumped, elbows braced on his knees, and his head hanging. He still wouldn’t look at her.
“Andy.”
His eyes flicked up, glassy and rimmed red, then dropped again.
“We need to go over what happened.”
His jaw tightened immediately. “I know.”
“No,” she said gently. “I don’t think you do.”
Silence stretched between them.
The air conditioner clicked off, and the sudden stillness made her skin prickle.