He couldn’t speak around the lump in his throat, so he just nodded.

“I need you to know something, Gav. I never minded taking care of you and Winnie. Never,” she said fiercely, making him believe her. “But I wasn’t done being taken care of either.”

He’d have sworn that he was the most screwed up of all of them, but he was starting to realize that the honor might go to his headstrong, irrepressible, smart, prickly, amazing sister. “What can I do to help? Anything. Just tell me.”

“I’m supposed to be the one helping you.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You did your part. Now I’m grown. And that means we’re equals. You help me and I help you. It’s my turn. So let me help.”

“I’m fine.”

“Really? Is that why you’re freaking out that maybe Cam is coming back to stay? That he wants to? That you probably have a lot to do with that?”

He caught a glimpse of anxiety and panic in her eyes before she turned away.

“You’re afraid,” he realized. “Afraid to let anyone in, afraid to let anyone love you.”

She gave a forced laugh. “That’s . . . ridiculous. I’d have to be pretty damn broken to feel that way.”

“Ah, Piper. It’s okay to be broken. Broken can be fixed.” He stood just behind her, watching her carefully, not wanting to push her over the edge, but wanting to make her see that she was working with his own MO here—survivor’s guilt.

Finally, she huffed out a sigh and shook her head as she turned back to him. “What do you want me to say? That you’re right? That I am freaking out just a little bit?”

“Or you know, a lot.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know how to make something like this work. Opening up and letting him see all the corners and the dust in the rafters and the shit I’ve hidden deep in the basement . . .”

He laughed. “Trust me, if I can do it drug free, then you sure as hell can. Just don’t be the you that’s, um . . .”

“What?”

“You know. A little anal.”

She went brows up. “Excuse me?”

“And don’t use that PMS tone either,” he said. “Oh, and while you’re at it, don’t not listen.”

“Hey, I listen.”

“You pretend to, but you don’t, not really. Instead you tell people what to do and how to think.”

Her eyes narrowed, but then she paused, chewed on her lower lip. “Dammit. I really hate when you’re right.”

“The good news is that knowing it is half the battle,” he said.

“Maybe you should try heeding your own advice sometime.”