I thought about that night—the way his hands felt on me, the slurred words he forced out as he told me to “just relax”. How my body had gone completely still when I realized, in that awful, sickening moment, what he wanted to do to me.

Dad sighed again, rubbing his temples, clearly debating whether to push further, but in the end, he let it go. He always did when Blake got like this. Maybe he thought of that dark room, of a younger Blake on his knees, pleading for someone not to hurt him. I saw that flicker of pain in Dad’s eyes from time to time.

Mom turned her gaze toward me, a hint of concern etched across her face. “Tiffany called twice, asking you to call her back. She sounded worried. Is something wrong?”

I quickly shook my head and forced a smile. “No, everything’s fine. Just…you know how she gets.”

She studied me for a moment, her eyes searching for something behind my words, but I kept my smile in place. “You should call her back,” she suggested gently.

“I’ll do it later,” I promised, though I wasn’t sure I would.

Mom hesitated before nodding. “Alright. Just know I’m here if you need to talk.”

“Thanks, Mom. I know.”

We ate in silence after that, the sound of silverware clinking against plates the only thing filling the void.

I barely tasted my food, my mind elsewhere.

After dinner, I grabbed Blake’s wrist as he turned toward the stairs, pulling him into the hallway.

His body tensed as I did, but he didn’t pull away. He didn’t look surprised either. It was as if he knew something was coming, but he wasn’t sure what.

“Thank you,” I whispered, barely able to get the words out.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “For what?”

“For Mason.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, though his voice lacked conviction, as if he was reciting words he’d rehearsed.

My hand lifted before I could think better of it, my fingers brushing against his cheek.

There was nothing sibling-like about the touch, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Blake made no attempt to pull away or create any distance between us. He didn’t stop me as my fingers lingered, tracing a path across his skin with a deliberate slowness.

He didn’t lean into the touch, but he didn’t pull away either.

His stillness was just as telling as any reaction.

“I know why you did it,” I murmured, “and I will never speak a word of it to anyone.”

His gaze flickered to my lips before warming slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he repeated, as slowly as before.

“Don’t lie to me, Blake.” I searched his face, not backing down. “We don’t lie to each other, do we?”