Chapter 2: Three Words From My Brother
Part 2 ⬇️
The photo was of a woman.
She was sitting in a hospital bed, her face turned slightly toward the camera.
She looked small.
Fragile.
Like someone who had been fighting something for a long time and was running out of fight.
It was Mom.
"How long?" I asked.
My voice came out wrong.
Flat.
Like I'd forgotten how to use it.
Dad wiped his face with the back of his hand.
"Eight months."
Eight months.
She'd been sick for eight months and no one had called me.
"Why didn't Jake—"
"Jake said you wouldn't care." Dad's voice broke on the last word.
"He said you made your choice when you walked out that door."
Something cold moved through my chest.
"She's been asking for you," Dad said quietly.
"Every week.
She asks if you called."
"What do you tell her?"
He couldn't answer that.
I picked the photo up off the floor.
Mom was smiling in it — barely, but she was smiling.
Even in that hospital bed, she was trying not to worry anyone.
"She doesn't know you're here, does she," I said.
It wasn't a question.
Dad shook his head.
Then my phone buzzed on the counter.
I looked down at the screen.
It was a message from Jake.
Three words.
*Don't come home.*
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What does Jake know — and why doesn't he want his brother there?
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The truth is more painful than anyone expected.
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