Page 149 of You Fall First

I draw in a long breath to mask the sting of disappointment. As hard as I tried to make this place exactly what Paige and Dutton needed, my sister is used to having her own home. The fact that sharing space with me feels strange shouldn’t come as a shock.

“I get it,” I say on the exhale. “This house is small, and one bathroom isn’t ideal. If you want, we can look at apartments. Tomorrow even.” I offer her a small smile of reassurance. “I know you don’t want to take money from me, which I respect, but I’m more than willing to help out until you get on your feet.” She drops her chin, so I dip my head to regain eye contact. “Havenwood’s pay is pretty good, relatively. And a two-bedroom place on the edge of town might be doable. We’ll figure it out.”

She sniffles.

“P,” I say softly.

P.

Dropping that initial on her out of the blue, the one I used when we were kids, pushes her over the line.

“You’re not hearing me,” she blurts, and the tremble in her voice doesn’t sound remotely like my sister. Paige is a lot of things. Strong and fearless, even stubborn. But one thing she’s never been is fragile.

“Okay.” A fist of frustration grips my throat. “I’m sorry. I’m right here, listening to you now. Tell me.”

“This isn’t working.” She meets my gaze, her eyes red-rimmed and wet. “I know how much you want this, how hard you’ve tried, but you can’t make it work.”

“Make what work? The house? The job?” I shake my head, bewildered. “What are you saying?”

“Dutton and I.” She pauses for a shaky breath. “We’re going home.”

My teeth clench. I’m about to tell her they are home when she says, “To Mayville.”

Now my feelings whittle down to one word:

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

This is not what I say to my sister, though. She’s clearly going through something, and I don’t want to be reactionary. She already believes I’m not hearing her, so I take a second. Take in her pale face and the purple smudges under her eyes. A ribbon of air leaks out of me.

“Paige.”

“Noah.”

“You just need more time,” I say as kindly as I can. “It’s only been a week.”

“It hasn’t, though.”

I rise from my crouch, slide into the chair next to hers. “Fine. Letter of the law, you’ve been here eight days.”

“It’s been months, Noah.”

I squint at her. “You dropped Dutton off so you could pack up, then you were stuck in the hospital for a week. You went to Annie’s for one more week.” I lean toward her. “How does that qualify as months, Paige?”

I swear I’m not trying to be condescending. Not on purpose. I’m just desperate, and fully reeling from the rug being ripped out from under me.

I don’t understand.

“Your plan to get us to move here started a year ago,” she says. “Actually, it was less of a plan and more like a campaign.”

“Mom and Dad would’ve wanted us to stick together. You know they would.”

“Really? Or is that what you convinced yourself because it’s what you want?”

“I wasn’t there.” I swallow the boulder in my throat. “When we lost them, you had to go through that without me.”

“Right.” She averts her gaze. “Because I stayed. That was my choice.”