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My heart sank.

Fuck sinking, it shattered into pieces at the sound of those three words coming out of my nine-year-old baby brother's mouth.

Looking at these small, innocent children, and knowing the threat was lurking all around us, sickened me

"No one hurt me," I lied, forcing myself to smile and reassure his little heart. "I fell off my bicycle and cut my face on the gravel.

"Weren't you wearing a helmet?" Casey, who had been silent until now, asked.

"No, Case," I choked out. "I wasn’t."

Ignoring everyone else in the room, he walked over to where I was sitting and stared hard at my face. "You gotta wear a helmet, Hope. It's the rules."

I had to smile at his innocent response.

Taking my words literally was so typical Casey.

You see, my little brother had autism. It wasn’t something we talked much about because it didn’t matter to us.

To us, he was Casey Carter.

Autism was only one part of his personality. Never once had our parents treated Casey differently to the rest of us. We all had our quirks, traits and habits that crafted us into the people we were. And I think he was my favorite of them all.

His truth was beautiful and I wished I could see the world through his eyes sometimes because he honestly seemed to be the wisest one of all Mom and Dad's kids.

It was harder for him sometimes, but he had this amazing built-in coping mechanism, something any person would admire.

When he was first diagnosed, I was frightened for him. For his future. What would happen to him when he grew up? Would he cope with adulthood? Would he ever get married and have children? What would his future look like?

That fear was a crippling one. But then I got my ass into the library and read up. I trolled the internet and every forum I could find on ASD.

I'd never had any experience with autism before my brother, but I was determined to get informed. I was hell bent on figuring out every possible way and avenue in which I could help him, support him, and guide him.

Looking at him now, knowing he believed every word I was speaking, broke my heart a little.

"I know," I replied. "I promise I will wear a helmet the next time."

"Don’t be sad, Hope," Casey whispered. "You're still pretty." Reaching up, he pressed his small hand to my cheek. "Now you match Mom."

"Oh, Case," I half laughed, half sobbed, covering his small hand with mine.

He nodded solemnly. "Your face still makes me feel good." He pressed his tiny hand to his chest. "In here."

"God, I fricking love you so much, Case."

"I know," was his simple response before throwing another curveball into the mix by asking, "Where's Lucky?"

"Lucky?" I squeezed out, feeling my face flame.

"Yeah," Casey confirmed with a solemn nod. "I need to talk to him."

You're not the only one…

"About what, Case?"

"He promised to take me to the comic con yesterday. He told me months ago that he would." Casey frowned and bit down on his bottom lip. "I was gonna beIron Manand Lucky said he'd beThor. And I waited and waited for him, but he didn’t come get me, Hope."

"Boys," Dad growled, interrupting us as he rubbed his jaw in barely restrained frustration. "Pleasego back downstairs. Mom and I really need to talk to your sister."

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