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“Henry made me feel like I died along with Peter. Made me feel invisible, but even through all that, I kept fighting for his acknowledgment. I kept fighting because he was my brother. I’d take anything but his ignorance, I’d take his anger, his hate, anything, but I got nothing,” I whisper as tears cascade, burning trails down my cheeks, a cocktail of shock, anger, and a hint of relief so potent it threatens to overwhelm me.
Henry wanted someone to watch over me. He cared, after all.
I didn’t lose both brothers that night.
I finally have answers and feel the last pages of those terrible chapters of my life closing, but I feel like the next few chapters of my life are filled with more uncertainties.
Why did Henry do it?
"I finally moved on," I snorted a bitter laugh, "I thought I did until Andrew came back into my life, and now you're telling me my brother actually cared about me."
I guess it is true; you can't start a new chapter until you finish the last.
I can’t bring myself to face Julian. I feel stupid, embarrassed, hurt, and betrayed, so I turn away from him, wishing the cabinets would open up into a land like Narnia, if only for a few minutes so that I could breathe freely.
Why wouldn’t Henry just tell me?
A look, a blink, a gesture, a single syllable, a word. I forgive you; I’m sorry. I still love you.
Anything.
“Are you sure?” The whisper barely makes it out; the fragile hope it carries is almost too much to bear.
“Yeah. Henry and Theo became friends in college.” Julian's voice is soft, ethereal even, so gentle like the cape of a hero gently floating in the caress of the wind.
He steps closer, his hand hovering in the air between us—hesitant, as if unsure whether to complete the journey to my shoulder. Maybe he’s worried if he touches me, I’ll crumble.
I finally look up and see the warmth in his eyes, as sharp as a needle trying to knit the frayed edges of my world back together. I feel so tattered you couldn't even make a quilt out of my emotions. I'm just barren threads.
If Henry and Theo were such good friends, then why didn’t I know Theo?
Then it hits me. Swallows me whole.
The memory of the day Henry left invades my thoughts—he coldly marched down our house's hallway, leaving me behind when I needed him the most. I accepted his departure, blaming myself for the death of our brother. Henry never returned to our college; he transferred, only coming back after graduation to take over our parents' company.
That must have been when Henry and Theo met.
But why wouldn't Henry look at me?
How can you care about someone so deeply that you'd go to great lengths to ensure their safety yet refuse to acknowledge their presence?
Julian’s hand gently lands on my shoulder, its warmth seeping through the fabric of my shirt. "I know this must be devastating. I don't have all the right words, but I'm here, Poppy," he assures, his fingers pressing lightly, offering a solid presence in the turmoil swirling around us. "I'll help you get through this."
Slowly, I reach out and cup my hand over his.“I’m sorry you were put in the middle of this,” I mutter.“You must really love me; that or my pussy is amazing because any other man would have run away from my absolutely insane drama.” I try to joke, forcing my brain to make my muscles smile. I just need to laugh, to feel some grounding emotion other than shock.
I don't laugh, and the smile feels fake.
What's real are the tears falling down my face, and the man still standing beside me.
"I don't know what to think," I mutter.
"Hey, it's okay," Julian soothes, gently cradling my face in his hands. His thumb, ever so softly, sweeps across my cheeks, chasing the trails of my tears away as if he could also erase the confusion they sprang from. Tell me what you need.”
"I don't know what I need," the confession spills out of me before I can catch the words. There is a pause, heavy with realization, and then, "No, that's not entirely true." My eyes fall away from his, a confession in my gaze before it shifts. "I need to see Henry.”
“Then let’s go see him.”
***
