Chapter Forty-Two
Carson
The moment I walked through my brother’s front door, I knew things were worse than he’d let on.
The house looked like it had been hit by an emotional hurricane. Toys were scattered everywhere. A sink full of dishes. Laundry half-folded. A blanket fort in the living room drooping over one sad-looking dining chair as if surrendering to gravity.
And in the middle of it—Evan.
He sat on the couch, elbows braced on his knees, face in his hands. His shoulders trembled once, barely, but enough that the older-brother part of me moved before the thinking part did.
“Ev,” I said softly.
He lifted his head, eyes red, jaw tight in that way he tried to hide pain. “Hey.”
I hadn’t seen that look on him since we were kids. Since he was sixteen, he had been terrified after the crash. Since he didn’t know what the world looked like without parents in it.
I dropped my bag and sat beside him. “Tell me everything.”
He swallowed hard. “She’s gone, man. She just… left. Took the kids to her sister’s place. Said she needed space, time, air—something. I don’t know.”
His voice cracked again.
“And you talked to her today?”
He nodded. “I asked her to meet at the park. Thought maybe seeing me with the kids would remind her how much we have. But she was…” He let out a rough breath. “Closed off. Like I was a stranger bothering her.”
I leaned back, letting the silence stretch. Sometimes silence gave room for honesty.
“It’s all my fault,” he said finally, voice barely there. “I’ve been working too much. Taking jobs at night to keep the business afloat. I thought I was helping. But she says I wasn’t around. Says she felt alone.”
“Is she wrong?” I asked gently.
He flinched. “Maybe not. But I wasn’t doing it to hurt her. I was doing it because I thought it was what a good husband did.”
I nodded slowly. “A good husband tries. Sometimes, trying looks different on the outside.”
He dragged both hands through his hair. “I don’t want to lose her, Carse. I don’t want my kids growing up confused or hurt. I want to fix it.”
“You will,” I said quietly. “Or you’ll navigate whatever comes next. Either way, you’re not alone.”
He blinked fast, eyes filling again. “God, you always jump in like this.”
“Not always,” I said, though we both knew that wasn’t true. When things fell apart, I came running. Always had.
“Thank you,” he said, voice thick.
“Of course.”
We talked for a long time…hours, maybe. About what Cara said, didn’t say, hinted at. About their schedules, the overwhelming chaos of raising young kids, and the exhaustion they both carried.
We made a plan—nothing dramatic. Just steps.
Call her once a day.
Focus on listening, not fixing.
Be present with the kids.
Take care of himself while taking care of them.
A car door shut out front.
“She’s bringing the kids over,” my brother said softly. “Dropping them off.”
The front door opened, and his kids barreled in, and Cara glanced at me.
The kids screamed my name and clung to my shoulders, giggling, and for a moment, the world didn’t feel heavy at all.
She said something to my brother, and I followed the kids into the kitchen.
I cooked dinner while Evan wrangled bath time.
We both cleaned up the spilled apple juice.
We both answered tiny, curious questions like “Why do worms live in dirt?” and “Can fish get tired?” and “Uncle Carson, how tall are you?”
By nine o’clock, the kids were asleep, and the house had quieted, leaving only the hum of the fridge and the weight of reality settling over everything.
Evan sat at the dining table staring at his hands. “She won’t come back.”
“You don’t know that.”
He shook his head. “I can tell. Something’s broken.”
“Broken doesn’t mean beyond repair.”
“You sound like Mom,” he said with a sad laugh.
We sat there for a while—two grown men who had survived too many storms to count, each shouldering a different kind of ache.
Then he said quietly, “You didn’t hesitate. As soon as I called, you came.”
“Of course I did.”
“I know, but…” He looked at me, brow furrowing. “Last time you did this, it cost you everything. Your relationship. Your happiness. You dropped everything for us, and you didn’t think twice.”
“That’s what family is,” I said. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know. But it still happened.” His gaze sharpened. “And I don’t want that happening to you again. Especially if…” He hesitated. “If you’re seeing someone.”
My breath stopped. Not a full stop—just enough to snag.
He caught it. “You are, aren’t you?”
I considered dodging. Minimizing. Laughing it off.
But after the day we’d had? After the years of secrets and sacrifices and swallowed feelings?
He deserved the truth.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I met someone.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Is it a good thing?” he asked, cautious, like he didn’t want to jinx it.
I let out a slow breath. “It’s… more than good. She’s… Sienna is…” I tried to find the words, but everything felt too small, too incomplete. “She’s unlike anyone I’ve known. Wild and brave and too honest and too confusing. And being around her feels like I’m waking up after years of sleepwalking.”
He stared at me for a long moment.
Then he cracked the most horrified face I’d ever seen on him. “Oh my God.”
I blinked. “What?”
“You really like her.”
“I said that.”
“No, you like-like her.”
I groaned. “Are we twelve now?”
He ran a hand down his face. “Carson, no. NO. You left town when you’re finally falling for someone?”
“It’s three days,” I reminded him. “She understands.”
“No,” he said again, as if the sheer repetition could fix time. “Go back. Go back right now. I can survive this.”
“You can barely handle toothbrushing alone,” I pointed out.
“Stop it,” he snapped, though without heat. “If you’ve actually found someone you want? You do not leave town when everything is still fragile.”
“She told me to go,” I said softly.
He stopped mid-rant.
“She… told you to?” he repeated slowly.
I nodded.
“In a ‘go fix your brother’s life’ way or a ‘go because I don’t care’ way?”
“In a ‘go because I care’ way.”
He stared at me for a long stretch of silence. Then he whispered, “Damn. She’s good for you.”
“She is.”
“And you’re going back?” he pressed.
“Of course I’m going back,” I said quietly. “I told her I would.”
Something eased in his posture, like he’d unclenched a muscle he didn’t know was tight. “Good. Good.”
“And she said another day wouldn’t hurt,” I added. “And somehow… I believe her.”
I expected him to look relieved. Instead, something softer appeared, something like guilt.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t realize my mess would put you in that position.”
I shook my head immediately. “Ev. You’re not in my way. You’re my brother. You needed me. That’s it.”
He swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
We sat in another stretch of quiet.
Eventually, he said, “So you’re not afraid? That she’ll… I don’t know… think less of you for leaving?”
“No,” I said, surprised by how automatically the answer came. “I’m not afraid of that with her.”
“Why not?”
“Because she doesn’t pull away when life gets complicated,” I said. “And she doesn’t make me choose.”
His expression shifted, understanding mixing with something tender. “You trust her.”
I breathed out slowly. “Yeah. I do.”
“And you really think she’ll still be there when you go back?”
I didn’t even have to think about it.
“Yes.”
He nodded, leaning back in his chair with a shaky sigh. “Then you already know something I didn’t.”
“What’s that?”
“That she’s the real deal,” he said simply.
His voice held something like awe.
And for the first time all day, something inside me settled.
Not because things were perfect. Not because the road ahead was clear. Not because I had the answers.
But because I wasn’t losing myself this time.
Not like before.
Not at the cost of love.
I could be here for my brother.
I could go back to Sienna.
I could choose both.
As the hours slipped toward midnight and the house fell into exhausted quiet, Evan finally stood.
“Go sleep,” he said. “Long day. Long tomorrow.”
“You too.”
He hesitated again in the hallway. “Carson?”
“Yeah?”
“You deserve to go back to her. Don’t let me be the reason you hesitate.”
I shook my head. “I’m not hesitating. I’m just… taking a detour.”
He let out a long breath. “Good.”
And then he disappeared into his room, leaving me alone at the kitchen table with the hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of the wind outside.
I pulled out my phone.
Scrolled to Sienna’s name.
Typed a message.
Deleted it.
Typed another.
Deleted that too.
Eventually, I settled on something simple.
I’ll be back soon. And I can’t stop thinking about you.
I hovered a moment and finally pressed send.
And for the first time since I walked through this door, the weight in my chest eased—just a little.
Three days.
I could survive three days.
Especially knowing who was waiting on the other side of them.