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    Max had left, but Alessia remained lost in thought.

    She and Max were so alike–both stubbornly silent, bottling things up until they were practically choking on unspoken words. No wonder there were so many

    misunderstandings between them; no wonder their rtionship had always felt so

    awkward.

    But before she’d met the Cole family, it was Max who’d raised her. Sharing his temperament was only natural.

    If she hadn’t brushed so close to death this time, Max probably would have taken his secrets to the grave. As for her, she never would have said anything so sentimental.

    It really does take a brush with death to see some things clearly.

    When Cole walked in, he found Alessia staring nkly into space, spooning imaginary food into her mouth.

    “Since when did you start eating with your mind?” he teased.

    Cole set down the jug of water, took the spoon from her hand, and gently offered her

    a mouthful of soup. His movements were so practiced and unhurried, Alessia automatically opened her mouth.

    “Where’s Max?”

    “He left.”

    “You don’t sound too thrilled.”

    “Max exined why he missed my track meet.”

    Cole paused, spoon hovering midair. “That’s a first. He actually said something?”

    Alessia nodded. She took another mouthful, then waved her hand, signaling she’d had enough.

    Cole didn’t push. Instead, he started clearing away the dishes.

    Alessia refused to lie down, so Cole fetched two pillows and propped them behind

    her back.

    Watching Cole bustle around in front of her, Alessia drifted off into her memories.

    She couldn’t deny it–her rtionship with Max had always been different from most

    10:41

    siblings. Yet, when she was little, Max was the one she’d depended bon/b, the bone /bbshe’d /blooked up to. He was quiet, almost cold, but in her eyes, he was the best big brother anyone could have.

    He always brought her little treats or toys when he came back from being out, and once a month, he’d take her out for a walk, just the two of them.

    If someone picked on her, he’d help her get even. When thunder rumbled outside, he’d pat her back, though he never managed to say a singleforting word.

    He taught her to read and write, reading her fairy tales at night. They couldn’t afford picture books, but somehow Max always had a new story to tell her, every single night.

    After she started boarding school, they spoke less and less.

    She stopped being afraid of thunderstorms. She could read a whole book on her own. She even learned to stand up for herself, to get back at those who bullied her. Still, she counted down the days until Max woulde home.

    But after moving into the big house, they drifted even further apart.

    Max was at boarding school too, rarely home, and when he was, he barely spoke to her. Most of his time was spent shut away in the study. He never took her out anymore. Even though they technically lived under the same roof, there were whole semesters when they wouldn’t see each other.

    And then the Coles arrived. Kids being kids, even Alessia, mature for her age, found herself drawn to a friend her own age rather than a brother who barely spoke and seemed to delight in making life difficult.

    Everything came to a head at the track meet.

    Alessia didn’t think she’d done anything wrong. If Max had just said something kind, tried to make it up to her, she wouldn’t have stayed mad. But instead, he told her to get lost. For a child still in kindergarten, that was a wound that cut deep.

    Max wasn’t like anyone else. If Mr. and Mrs. Tate had said the same thing, she would have been upset, maybe angry, but she wouldn’t have held onto it for years.

    But this was Max. More than anger, she just felt hurt–hurt that lingered for years, a splinter she tried to ignore, but one that still stung whenever she thought about it.

    “By the way, this is for you.” Cole finished tidying up, sat down beside her on the bed, and handed her a folded piece of paper.

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