James

I feel Annelly shift beside me. A subtle movement—tense, bracing. Like she’s trying not to crumple beneath the weight of my anger. And just like that, the guilt tearing through my insides continues to compound.

I suck in a breath and force calm into my voice. “I’m not trying to start a fight here. I just…” I pause, dragging a hand down my face. “After the day we’ve had, you need to eat, then go upstairs to pack your shit. We leave in less than two hours.”

Tyler stares at me for a beat, then slowly lowers himself back into the chair. His voice is softer now, but no less cutting. 

“I said I’m not going.”

What the fuck is happening?

I swear my heart stops. My blood runs cold. Twice now, he’s said those words—calm, final—like they mean nothing. Like they’re not splitting me open. Like they’re not shattering the very foundation that makes us us.

I shake my head, not in disbelief, but in defense. Like if I move fast enough to interrupt him, I can deflect the blade he just buried deep into my chest. 

“You don’t mean that,” I rasp. “You can’t mean that.”

But he says nothing. 

And that’s when it really hits. 

He isn’t joking. This isn’t some dramatic bluff he’ll walk back when he sees us pack up the car, ready to leave. 

This is real. 

He’s serious. 

And it feels like betrayal.

“I made you a promise,” I say, the words like gravel in my throat. “In that courtroom, the day I got you back. I told you I’d never leave you. That I’d never let anything separate us again.” My voice cracks through the growl, devastation bleeding into every word.

“I’m not 14 anymore, James,” Tyler says quietly. To my shock, his eyes mirror the same emotion ripping through my chest. “I needed those words back then. Desperately. And for the past nine years, you’ve lived up to that promise. You saved me from foster care. Gave me a home. Food. Stability. You kept me safe. You gave me everything I needed and more.”

He swallows hard, eyes glassy as his voice turns thick. “You gave me my family back. You and me—brothers for life. And this separation…” he gestures between us. “You leaving to protect her,” he nods toward Annelly, who’s now staring at him with tears in her eyes. “It doesn’t mean you’re abandoning me.”

He looks back at me. “You’ve done your job, big brother. And I’m grateful. It’s why I’m okay now. Why you can leave to take care of her, confident in the knowledge that I’ll still be right here when you get back. You’re my brother, James. My family. My best friend. And nothing, not even distance, will ever change that.”

He draws in a breath. “All I’m asking is that—for once—you let me stand on my own.”

I swallow hard, my throat tight.

I don’t move.

Can’t.

My body’s frozen in place, but my insides… I fucking collapse. Because it hits me then. All of it. Like a goddamn freight train. 

The therapists. 

The separation anxiety. 

The unhealthy codependence everyone said we shared… that they tried—and failed—to help us overcome.

All this time, it wasn’t we.

It was me.

I was the one who couldn’t breathe without him. The one who clung too tight. Who made promises he never asked me to keep. 

I thought I was protecting him. That I was keeping him safe. Making up for all those years I wasn’t there. I thought I was the one holding him steady, helping to keep him afloat.

But all this time… he’s been standing just fine.

And I’m the one who never let go. 

The one drowning at the thought of being without him.

My eyes burn, and I don’t bother trying to stop the tears as they fall. I don’t wipe them away. I don’t hide.

Because the truth is too goddamn devastating. Too much for me to function, to react, to breathe like I probably should. 

All this time, I thought I was doing right by him. 

But what if… what if all I’ve done is hold him back?

Beside me, Annelly shifts. She doesn’t say anything. Just slides her hand beneath the table, her fingers curling gently around mine in a soft gesture that says she sees my pain. That she knows what I’m thinking. That she understands.

I squeeze back once, and then I let go. Not because I want to. But because even that—especially that—feels like more than I deserve.

I clear my throat, my thoughts scrambling for something—anything—to pull us back to solid ground.

“Victor knows she was here,” I say, my voice cracking halfway through. “Staying at the house… it isn’t safe.”

Tyler’s eyes soften, but not in the way I want. Not with fear. Not with reconsideration. Just quiet, steady acceptance.

“Then maybe I’ll stay on campus for a while,” he says with a shrug. “Maybe even take a trip.”

I blink. “A trip?” My voice is flat. Numb.

He exhales, rakes a hand through his hair. “Marissa.”

The name lands harder than I expect.

“I know it’s been months since we broke up,” he continues, eyes fixed on the floor, “but I…” He trails off. Shakes his head like he’s not sure if he should say more. “I don’t know. I just… I need to see her. To make sure she’s okay. To make sure I made the right decision.”

The right decision?

I should say something. I should ask what he means. Or why they broke up in the first place. Questions that, if I’m being honest with myself, I should’ve asked him months ago.

But I didn’t. 

Because I was too wrapped up in my bullshit. Too distracted. Too consumed by my own insecurities and misgivings about love and relationships to bother asking about his. And now I’m watching him slip away—heart-first—and I don’t even know what the hell it is I missed.

“The right decision?” I echo, quietly.

He doesn’t elaborate. Just looks at me for a beat… then turns to Annelly.

“I’m sorry you had to see this,” he says, pulling her into a hug. “And I’m sorry you’re going through all this. You deserve better.”

Annelly hugs him back, her voice a whisper. “So do you. Both of you do.”

Tyler pulls back, then taps her chin with a knuckle and flashes a crooked smile. “See you on the other side, kiddo.”

She nods, smiling through the ache in her eyes.

Then he turns to me.

For a second, we just stare at each other. No words. No defenses. Just all the things we’re not saying, sitting heavy between us.

Then he steps in and wraps his arms around me in a rough, familiar hug—one of those hits-too-hard, holds-too-tight, slap-on-the-back kind of hugs we’ve always shared.

“I’ll be okay, big brother. I promise.” His voice is low, but confident. “Might even eat a vegetable every now and then.”

I huff out a breath that might be a laugh. Might be a sob. Hell if I know anymore.

He pulls back, squeezes my shoulder once. “I love you.”

Then he turns—just like that—and walks away.

I don’t stop him even though every instinct I have screams that I should. That I should beg. Plead. Bargain. Do something, anything, to keep him with us. 

But I don’t. 

 Instead, I just stand there, frozen. Watching him move past me and up the stairs, probably headed to pack whatever he thinks he’ll need for the solo adventure he’s about to take on.

And still… I don’t move.

I just stand there, gutted. Like some vital piece of me has been ripped out. Like I’ve been hollowed out from the inside and left empty.

And I’m proud of him. 

God, I’m so fucking proud of the man he’s become.

But at the same time… I’ve never felt so goddamn alone.

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