That’s why I didn’t tell them. The three of us went through the wringer when Casey died, and things have never been the same between us since. But even with all that distance in the wake of his death, I never wanted to say or do anything that would drive them further away from me. I just wanted to make them happy, to try in my own small ways to somehow make up for losing Casey. But there was never anything I could’ve done to take away that pain for them, so I was only hurting myself—and I see that more clearly now than ever.

“I didn’t want to let you down. After everything with Casey, all I’ve ever wanted was to make you happy, to make up for him being⁠—”

“Hannah,” my father interrupts, his voice hoarse. He squeezes my other hand so tightly it almost hurts. His expression is more serious than I’ve ever seen him look as he shakes his head. “Listen to me. It’s not your job to ‘make up’ your brother’s loss to us. I don’t ever want you to think for another second that you need to do or be something you aren’t to make your mother and me happy. You are perfect exactly as you are. Do you hear me?”

I nod, my throat tight. My mom releases me, rubbing my back gently, and Declan and my dad share a look over my shoulder.

I couldn’t have known that things would go this well, but after finally having the conversation I’d been dreading, I wonder why I ever thought my parents might judge or reject me for being honest. Granted, a lot has happened, and things are different between us now—so maybe the conversation would’ve gone differently if I’d tried sooner.

I don’t know, but it doesn’t really matter now.

Because right now, I’m healthy. I have Declan. My parents are listening, and they’re okay with me carving out my own path for myself.

And that feels like more than enough.

* * *

By the time the hospital discharges me a few hours later, Declan has already called a car to take me home, although my mother and father were both falling all over themselves to drive me. They don’t seem like they want to let me out of their sight, walking alongside us as Declan pushes me in a wheelchair through the hospital and down to the exit, and they both give me big hugs before he helps me into the back seat of the car.

Declan climbs in beside me, and we’re just pulling out onto the street when his phone starts ringing.

“It’s my mom,” he says, glancing down at the screen. “I should take this.”