Chương 6
I ordered breakfast.
I ate more than I expected.
By the time we got home, I felt almost human again.
Almost.
Then my phone buzzed.
Ellison.
I opened the email immediately.
The subject line made my chest tighten.
Financial Aid Review Update.
I sat down before reading.
Maya noticed.
“What is it?”
I handed her the phone.
She read silently.
Then she gave it back.
“They need you to meet with them.”
“That sounds bad.”
“It sounds like they need to meet with you.”
I looked at her.
“You’re very committed to making things sound less terrifying.”
“It’s a gift.”
I smiled despite myself.
The meeting was scheduled for two days later.
Two days of waiting.
Two days of not knowing whether I would start college in the fall or spend another year trying to rebuild something my family had damaged.
Waiting was harder than fighting.
At least fighting gave you something to do.
Waiting gave your mind room to create disasters.
I cleaned Maya’s apartment.
She told me I was being ridiculous.
I told her I needed something to control.
She accepted that answer.
That night, I received another message.
This time from Brandon.
Can we talk?
I stared at it.
Then put the phone down.
Five minutes later, I picked it up again.
I hated that I wanted to answer.
I hated that part of me still looked for my older brother when I was hurt.
Not the person he became.
The person he used to be.
Finally, I typed.
Where?
His response came quickly.
A coffee shop near his apartment.
Tomorrow.
I almost refused.
Then I remembered something.
Avoiding him would not change what happened.
It would only let him tell the story without me.
The next morning, I arrived ten minutes early.
I hated that about myself.
Even when my life was falling apart, I still arrived early.
Brandon was already there.
That surprised me.
He looked different.
Not physically.
He was still Brandon.
Same expensive jacket.
Same messy hair.
Same confidence that usually appeared before he had earned it.
But something underneath had changed.
He looked tired.
“Ava.”
I sat down.
“Hi.”
He looked at the coffee between his hands.
“I don’t know where to start.”
“That’s new.”
He looked up.
“What?”
“You usually start by explaining why something isn’t your fault.”
The words came out sharper than I intended.
His face tightened.
But he did not get angry.
“I deserve that.”
I looked at him carefully.
There was a version of Brandon who would have argued immediately.
This version seemed exhausted from carrying himself.
“I read your note,” I said.
He nodded.
“I figured.”
“You said you thought I would forgive you because I always did.”
He looked down.
“I know.”
“Why?”
The question surprised him.
“Why what?”
“Why did you think that?”
He was quiet.
For once, he did not rush to fill the silence.
“Because you were the only person who still believed I could fix things.”
I looked away.
That answer hurt more than an excuse would have.
Because it meant he knew.
He knew I cared.
He knew I wanted to believe in him.
And he used that.
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said.
I looked back.
“That doesn’t matter.”
His expression changed.
“I know.”
“No, listen.”
I leaned forward.
“I believe you didn’t wake up one morning and decide to ruin my life.”
Brandon swallowed.
“But you still did.”
He nodded slowly.
The acceptance felt strange.
Almost unfair.
I had prepared myself for a fight.
I had not prepared myself for someone finally agreeing.
“What happens now?” he asked.
I laughed quietly.
“You’re asking me?”
“I don’t know what else to ask.”
That was probably the most honest thing he had ever said.
“I don’t know.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“I talked to a lawyer.”
My attention shifted.
“What?”
“I need to know what happens.”
“Because you’re scared?”
“Yes.”
The answer was immediate.
That surprised me.
“I’m scared too,” he said.
I looked at him.
“I’m scared Dad is never going to forgive me.”
The old anger came back.
Not as strong.
But enough.
“Do you understand what’s bothering me most?”
He waited.
“It’s not that you messed up.”
His eyes moved away.
“It’s that everyone kept protecting you while I was the one losing everything.”
His jaw tightened.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
He looked back.
“I’m trying.”
That sentence stopped me.
Because it was not a defense.
It was not a demand.
It was just a statement.
A small one.
Maybe the first real one.
I sat back.
The coffee shop around us kept moving.
A baby cried near the window.
Someone dropped a spoon.
A man complained about his order.
Nobody knew that two people were sitting ten feet away from them trying to decide whether a family could survive the truth.
“What did the lawyer say?” I asked.
Brandon hesitated.
“He said the money situation is complicated.”
“How?”
“Because Dad signed some documents.”
My stomach tightened.
“What documents?”
Brandon looked uncomfortable.
“I don’t know everything.”
I believed him.
That was the problem.
The truth was becoming more complicated than I wanted.
“Then find out.”
He nodded.
I stood up.
“Ava.”
I stopped.
“I am sorry.”
I looked at him.
The words were not magical.
They did not repair anything.
They did not erase the nights I spent wondering if my future was disappearing.
But they were real.
“I know,” I said.
His face changed slightly.
Not relief.
Something closer to sadness.
Because he understood those words were not forgiveness.
They were simply recognition.
I left the coffee shop carrying the same pain I brought in.
But something else came with it.
A clearer understanding.
Brandon was not the only problem.
He was just the easiest one to blame.
The deeper problem was a family built around avoiding uncomfortable truths.
May you like
And if I wanted my life back, I was going to have to face all of them.
When I got back to Maya’s apartment, I found Dad had sent me three messages.
