Page 69 of Saving it with My Best Friend's Brother

“Your breathing’s too shallow,” Taylor murmured, professional concern warming her voice. “Here.” Cool plastic pressed into my palm. “Small sips.”

The conference room door opened, spilling lamplight like honey across marble floors. Sandra Martinez emerged, determination driving each click of her heels.

“We have options,” she began, but her words faded as movement caught my eye—Michael, standing at the property’s edge, phone pressed to his ear. The sight of him against the darkening sky sent me fifteen years back, to another night he’d stood alone in shadows.

I moved without thinking, Hunter’s warmth falling away as I pushed through the front doors. Evening air thick with pine and the promise of snow stung my face.

“Michael!”

He turned, and my heart cracked. Tears tracked down his cheeks, his expression haunted in the dying light. For a moment, I saw him at fifteen again. The night Mom died, coming home with guilt shadowing his eyes.

“You weren’t supposed to be here.” His hands shook as he pocketed his phone. “The power... you were supposed to evacuate.”

The truth cut through me, sharper than the mountain wind. “You cut the power?”

“To protect you.” His voice cracked like thin ice. “They’re coming, Amelia. Tonight. I had to get you out before—”

“Before what?” Hunter’s voice carried the steady strength of the mountains themselves.

Michael’s eyes darted between us, panic rising like that night Mom’s accident was reported. “You don’t understand. That night... what I saw...”

“Then help us understand.” I stepped toward my brother, reaching. His familiar aftershave couldn’t mask the sharp tang of fear rolling off him. “Please, Michael.”

He moved toward me, then froze as Taylor appeared, her therapist’s instincts reading his distress.

“Remember when we were kids?” Her voice carried the same soothing tone that had guided us through countless crises. “You protected us from everything. Let us protect you now.”

Something in Michael crumbled like spring snow. “Dad didn’t betray us,” he whispered, each word heavy with years of pain. “He made the deal to protect me. Because of what I did that night.”

“What did you do?” The question shook me like fall leaves, though part of me dreaded the answer.

“I followed Mom to the meeting spot. Saw her with Mrs. Miller, with Wheeler’s uncle.” Words tumbled out like an avalanche. “But someone else was there...” He swallowed hard, moonlight catching his tears. “Someone I knew. When they started arguing, I got scared. I ran. The car that forced Mom off the road...” His voice shattered. “If I’d stayed, if I’d warned her...”

Hunter stepped closer as I swayed, his presence solid as earth. “Who was the other person, Michael?”

Headlights swept the driveway like searching fingers. A familiar silver Mercedes approached, its engine purring in the mountain quietness.

“No.” Michael’s face went white as fresh snow. “No, no, no. They’re early. Go. Now!”

“Who’s early?” Taylor’s professional calm cracked. “Michael, what’s happening?”

“They found Mom’s evidence. The real evidence. About everything.” Desperation drove every movement as he reachedfor me. “About who killed Richard Miller. About why Mrs. Miller had to disappear. About—”

The shot cracked the night open. Michael jerked. Red bloomed across his chest. He fell forward, and my world tilted with him.

I caught him as we went down, the copper smell of blood mixing with pine needles. Taylor dropped beside us, medical training taking over.

“Inside!” Hunter shielded us as more cars appeared, surrounding us like winter wolves. “Claire! Code red!”

Agent Blake’s team swarmed out. Chaos erupted in shouts and sirens. But all I heard was my brother’s fading voice:

“The photo... in Mom’s old room... behind the...”

His eyes closed, dark lashes against snow-pale skin.

“Michael!” My scream tore raw from my throat. “No, please...”

Through tear-blurred emergency lights, I watched Dad’s car door open with excruciating slowness. But it wasn’t Dad who emerged.

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