“Nobody’s nicer than you are,” her older brother said. “Sometimes things just happen that we can’t control. And they don’t have anything to do with how nice we are.”
“How would you know?” Anger stirred in the heated emotions of the morning. You’re the definition of a screw-up, Saylor wanted to add, but she held back the hurtful words. It was her anger speaking. She’d had multiple hours of therapy to help her cope with exactly this, though it took several more long breaths to keep from saying everything she was thinking.
“I know I’m not perfect, Saylor,” Greg said. “I know I’ve done a lot to hurt you. I wish I could tell you how sorry I am, but if anyone has shown me what a good person is, it’s you.”
She sniffled. “Yeah. I’m the poster child.”
“I mean it,” Greg said. “You kept going. You helped Caleb’s family after he died, even though Caleb hurt you. Then when things got hard again, you got help. That takes a strong person, Saylor. Now look at you. Even though everything seems to crumble around you, you refuse to let it. You’re working; you’re taking care of your son. You make sure he’s not with that loser every night.” Greg pointed a thumb toward the front door, and she let out a hesitant chuckle.
“You make sure he’s got clothes, food to eat, a place to live. He’s lucky to have a resilient mother like you.”
Saylor stared at her brother as if seeing him for the first time. Was this the same person? The brother their cousin, Beckham, had to intervene for constantly to keep him from going to jail, the same one who’d been found hammered outside of a dumpster, the same brother on a one-way track to nowhere? He was making her sound like some kind of saint.
A part of her heart softened. A part she’d kept hard for far too long.
“Thank you,” she told him. He’d made her sound strong, when she felt like the farthest thing from it.
“I told Cole the truth, about what happened. Between that and David barking orders at me, it’s just—”
“David needs to know you’re not at his beck and call anymore,” her mom said with a snarl. She reached out and took Saylor’s hand, waiting to speak until Saylor met her gaze. Saylor viewed conviction there. Conviction and love. Her heart warmed that much more.
“As for Cole. Whatever happened between you two, if he’s the one, he’ll get over it,” her mom added, perching on the armrest beside Greg. Side by side, their resemblance was clear. Despite his scratchy beard, he had their mother’s eyes and nose.
“I worry I’ve pushed him away,” Saylor said.
“You don’t know that,” her mom argued.
“He’ll come around. You could be worse,” Greg said. “Believe me. I know.”
To Saylor’s surprise, a chuckle escaped. Her mom and Greg followed. Parker joined in, hopping and laughing like he grasped the joke, and soon enough, they were all laughing, lightening the mood considerably. It still didn’t eliminate the wedge in her chest, but it took away some of the load.
“What you’ve got to figure out is how to not let David get to you anymore,” her mom said. “That part of your life is over, sweetheart. You need to let it be over.”
“You don’t want Dad to get you stuff?” Parker asked. He blinked, looking cute, confused, and loveable.
“No, he’s got Amanda for that now,” Saylor said, hugging him close. Her mother was right. Was that why David thought he had the right to keep ordering her around? Because Saylor was allowing him to?
“And me,” Parker said. “He still gets me stuff.”
Saylor peered into her little boy’s eyes. So sweet, so innocent. Eager to love, willing to look past the stupid things Saylor did, willing to look past the pain his parents’ separation had caused him. So eager to let bygones be.
A piece of her shifted at the realization, like a seed in hard ground finally opening enough to get water.
“Thanks,” Saylor told them all.
One by one they exchanged hugs. First, her mother’s small frame. Then Parker’s tiny embrace. Then Greg’s smell of caramel and soap washed over her as he pulled her into an hug.
It was, in a word, restorative.
Her muscles slackened. Her breathing came slow and easy. She was weightless. For the first time in years, where her brother was concerned, she had no desire to be anywhere else. A connection strung between them, a steady, calm satisfaction.
Saylor suspected similar emotions channeled through Greg, too, because he stepped away with languid motion and gave her a soft smile. In that smile, she saw her brother. Her real brother. The one she’d known as a child, the one who’d been neglected and forgotten by a different version of himself. The one who he was trying to be again.
Their mom stood beside them with a hand on each of their shoulders. Tears were pooling in her eyes, and she examined them with motherly pride.
“Mom, can you give us a ride home?” Saylor asked. Much as she appreciated their support, she was longing to get home and change.
“I got it.” Greg moved faster than anyone expected. Hurriedly, he slipped into his weather-beaten coat, shoes, and beanie and waited for Saylor and Parker by the door.
She could imagine what others who didn’t know him might see, with his scruffy beard and ragged clothes. After helping Parker, they tramped out into the snow, and Greg not only got Saylor’s door, but he even helped Parker into the backseat.
Usually Greg blasted music Saylor couldn’t stand, but he left his radio blessedly, strangely silent. It made for awkwardness between them, in that I-don’t-know-what-to-say kind of way.
“Thanks for this,” she told him as she directed him to her house.
“Just glad I can help my little sister out for once.”
He sounded so remorseful. She needed to
