She continues to stare at the fire, almost unblinking. “And other things.”

We sit in silence for another moment as I scroll through all the questions I have for her. I have to be careful. Regardless of how close we are, Briar has always been a closed-off person. If I come at her with a million questions, she’ll shut down and not talk to me. I have to pick the ones I think she might answer and make sure I say them in the right way.

“Have you told mom and dad yet?”

She shakes her head, her hair moving in the light breeze. “I know they won’t mind, though.”

“They won’t mind, sure, but they’ll care,” I say. “About whatever the reason is.”

I mention it but don’t ask. Whatever the reason, my sister isn’t going to share it until she’s good and ready.

“Did you tell Chad? Or your job?”

Briar blinks, and I see a single tear make a slow trek down her face. My entire body goes on red alert.

“Yeah, I told them,” she whispers.

I feel stricken by the fact that I just saw her cry. I have only seen my sister cry three times in our entire lives that didn’t have to do with being a little kid or serious injuries.

The first time was when our family dog died. She loved Shep more than anyone else. Even though German Shepherds are supposedly guard dogs, we wound up with the one that was afraid of everything. But he was my sister’s best friend, sleeping in her bed every night. She was devastated when he was gone.

The second time was when her high school boyfriend broke up with her. She vowed to never allow a man to make her cry again, and as far as I know, it’s never happened.

The third and most recent time was when we found out my dad was in remission from his prostate cancer, though it was only a misty eye, and she’d deny it if anyone asked her about it.

So this tear, while seemingly small to anyone else, feels like a blow to the chest. It means, at 27 years old, Briar is finally crying about a guy, which means whatever happened before she made the decision to move home is seriously serious.

I get out of my chair, suddenly feeling like the distance between us is too much, and I crouch next to her, putting a hand over hers. Then I reach out and wipe the single tear away.

She clenches her jaw, and I know that’s her internal frustration with having been ‘caught’ being emotional, but I need her to know I see her pain.

“I’m not going to ask you what happened,” I say, keeping my voice low. “I know you well enough to know you might not ever tell me.”

She blinks, her eyes taking on a sadness that makes my big brother genes want to grab my baseball bat, drive down the mountain to find Chad, and fuck shit up.

But I know that won’t solve anything, so I keep that angry pest locked up tight.

“But I just want you to know I’m here for you. Whether I’m physically here by your side or you need someone to talk to over the phone in the middle of the night, I’m here for you.”

Briar gives me a jerky nod, and I can tell that’s the most I’m going to get out of her.

I pat her hand and return to my chair then take a long pull of my beer, draining the rest of the bottle in just a few seconds.

“I’ve always thought Chad wasn’t good enough for you,” I tack on. “I’ve always kept that to myself, and if you decide to get back together with him, I’ll love and support you no matter what, but the man isn’t your soulmate.”

I pause, thinking back to all the things I dislike about him and zeroing in on one in particular, hoping to make Briar laugh.

“I mean, he has shirts with deeper V-cuts than you do.”

Briar lets out a choked sound before she throws her head back and laughs, her throaty voice sending a howl into the night air that makes me smile. My sister needs to laugh like that more often, and it makes me sad that I’m just now realizing how long it’s been since I’ve heard it.

Her laughter dies down slowly, and she wipes under her eyes, looking at me with gratitude. “Thanks for that. I needed it,” she says.

I nod. “Any time.”

We sit in silence for a little longer before I can sense her looking at me. When my eyes lock with hers, she asks me a question I should have expected.

“Do you believe in soulmates?”