“Thanks, Captain Obvious.”
He caught my gaze and held it. “Stop that. Stop throwing up shields. I’m not the one who’s made a total mess of things, little sis.”
My instinct was to tell him I’d done no such thing, but that was a lie. Of course I’d made a mess. Like I always did, if I were being honest.
And Rick wasn’t about to clean it up for me.
It was the one thing he’d steadfastly refused to do. Not once, when we were growing up, did he clean up whatever mess I’d created for myself. But he’d always taken care of me. He was only four years older than me, so we’d been nine and thirteen when our parents had died. And even though I wanted to spend a week straight in bed, he forced me to act human: eat, take baths, brush my teeth.
“How’d you do it?” I asked him now.
He peered at me. “Do what?”
“Take care of us for that week after Mom and Dad died.”
It was almost imperceptible, but I saw the flinch. “I didn’t have a choice,” he responded, looking away from me. “Gigi couldn’t get to us at first.”
“Why didn’t you ask anyone for help?”
“Says the woman who refuses to do the same,” he said pointedly.
I ignored that. “Did you ever wonder why it took Gigi so long to get up there? To Seattle?”
He heaved a big sigh. “Because she was burying her own husband.”
I straightened. “What?”
“She was burying her husband,” he repeated. “Did you forget?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t know.”
“What do you mean you didn’t know? Do you not remember the guy who looked like Santa Claus? Like, literally—twinkly eyes and a round little belly, the whole thing. Warner?”
I sat up, parsing through my memories. There was a vague recollection of…well, Santa Claus. “That was her husband? I thought he was just a friend.”
“Nope. Husband. Why do you think we took forever to get home once she picked us up?”
“Her love of road trips,” I said.
He snorted. “Hardly. She hated road trips.”
“She loved them! We went on them all the time!”
“You loved them,” he corrected. “And we wanted to do whatever kept you happy.”
I frowned. “Why did it take us so long to get here, then?”
“Because she needed time. Time to process losing her son and daughter-in-law, and her husband. And you needed it, too.” His tone was gentle.
“What about you?”
He shrugged. “Someone had to be strong.”
“But you were just a kid, ” I said, and realization finally dawned. “My god, Rick. How are you even normal?”
He laughed. “You can thank Ceci for getting me straight all those years ago.”
I leaned back on the couch. “I fucked up.”
“No shit.”
“No, I mean…” I struggled to force the words out. “For years. I’ve been fucking up for years.”
His face softened. “Ah, Devon. That’s just who you are.”
“Um, harsh, bro.”
“Some of it’s my fault, I think. After Mom and Dad died, the way you were…it scared me so bad. When Gigi finally showed up, I was at the end of my rope. She saw the state you were in, and panicked. She and I spent so much time making sure you were never like that again that I guess maybe it backfired.”
I considered his words. “So all those road trips…”
“…and everything else you wanted,” he finished. “Yes.”
It was as if I was on a tiny boat in the ocean, being rocked around by waves that didn’t mean to overturn the boat, but were going to anyway, because they were huge and it was their nature.
I guessed that’s what the truth felt like, though. Big enough to drown you, but not intentionally.
Might as well keep pressing forward, I thought. “I have a question.”
