Page 88 of Near Miss

Sarah sniffs, blinking, but a tear tracks down her cheek anyway. She wipes it away before giving me a watery smile. “We love you, Beck. Every single version of you. Very, very much. Our lives wouldn’t be what they are without you. Not even a fraction of them.” She closes her eyes, the corners pinch like she’s in pain when she inhales before continuing, voice dropping to nothing. “And we should have told you every single day.”

She sits back, inhaling bigger gulps of air than she needs, shoulders shaking, trying not to cry. Nathaniel wraps his arm around her, squeezing once before they both look back at me.

Golden hair and green eyes on my brother. Stubble lining the more-defined lines of his jaw, and shoulders that grew broader over the years. Maybe because I kept them from collapsing under the weight of it all, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter.

The same eyes on my sister, and cheekbones that sharpened as the years passed, and a beautiful pink flush to her skin I wasn’t sure I was ever going to get to see.

I blink, and I think they might finally, finally be adults now.

That maybe all three of us are.

“I was happy to do it all. I am happy to keep doing it.” I swallow. It’s the truth. “But thank you. For saying all that. I don’t think I always know how to be around the two of you, either.”

Sarah gives me a soft smile, hope written in the flush across her face. “We can figure it out together.”

Nathaniel grins, nodding. “I love learning. Big passion for it.”

“Mom and Dad—” Sarah starts.

“It’s like they forget, or maybe they just don’t know what to do with me. Mom forgot I donated all the time.” I shake my head with a dry laugh, before tipping my chin to Sarah. “You might not remember, you were young. But I donated every time you needed a transfusion. I lied to all my coaches about it. Didn’t matter the season. Football. Hockey. Soccer.”

She whispers, “I remember,” but it sounds a lot louder than that, because I think it’s permeating every inch of me. Ringing out in all those empty spaces I wanted to be occupied by Greer but maybe needed to be occupied by other things instead.

I exhale and run a hand down my face. “It’s not that I don’t want to be there for you guys. At the drives. Or to give you whatever it is you need. It’s just that sometimes they—Mom and Dad—they’ve set this expectation that I’m going to solve everything and whenever they imply you need something—”

“Tell them no!” Sarah slaps her hand against the table in this uncharacteristic display of emotion a lot bigger than her, and her eyes flash with what might be anger towards our parents before it turns inwards and her voice cracks. “Tell us no.”

“Sarah.” I shake my head again. “I’m not going to suddenly stop making sure you have the life you want and deserve.”

Nathaniel cuts in, and his voice breaks, too. “What about what you want? What you deserve?”

I raise my eyebrows and lean back in the chair. I don’t know how to answer that, so I give them half a smile. “These expectations. They’re getting heavy. That’s all.”

“Let’s start with boundaries. If Mom and Dad assume, or they ask for something, the three of us can talk about it privately. And you can say no.” Sarah leans forward, emphasis on those last words before she keeps going. “And we’ll work on getting to know each other again. The real people we are now.”

Real.

This—my relationship with my brother and my sister—another casualty littering the highway of my life that she breathed life back into.

I give them a wry smile. “Funny. Greer told me I should think about setting boundaries.”

Nathaniel grins, holding his hands up again. “Your girlfriend is very wise.”

“Not my girlfriend.”

“Why not?” Sarah asks, a glow brightening her features, like she’s looking at a particularly interesting puzzle, and she can solve the whole thing for me if she just adjusts a few pieces.

But she can’t.

I jerk my chin. “She has her reasons, and I won’t ask her for more than she can give.”

“Beck.” Sarah shifts forward, grabbing my hand in hers. “You deserve good things. You deserve what you want out of this life. You should tell her how you feel. It’s not asking her for something she can’t give you if you’re just telling the truth.”

She means well—but this isn’t a movie. Greer is a real, living, breathing person who deserves the space she asks for, and a sudden confession from me isn’t going to change that.

I flash a strained smile. “We’ll see.”

Both of their mouths open, like they’re about to protest.

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