I keep gravitating back to the kitchen to have something to do with my hands. I made way too much food for dinner because I don’t know what else to do.

With a quick knock, I enter my brother’s bedroom with two plates balanced in one hand. “I made dinner,” I announce, hoping he’s in the mood to tolerate my overbearing tendencies.

I don’t know how to play it with Fielding. He’s already so damn low—will this be what finally sends him over the edge? And if he topples, will I follow?

He’s not acting any differently. I guess I’m not, either. I just worry that this is the beginning of the end and that I won’t know how to handle it if he unravels further. Keeping him in line and getting through these next few weeks are all that matters.

He sits up in bed and shifts over to make room for me.

“Do you really think you can feed me into submission?” he teases through a yawn.

“I know how much you love BLTs, so maybe?”

I’m half kidding. Half not. There’s an undercurrent to every conversation we’ve had over the last twenty-four hours. I keep expecting him to fly off the rails, and he mocks me for waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He accepts his plate and takes a massive bite as I join him on the bed. I pick at a bit of lettuce hanging over the edge of the crust. I’m not hungry. I haven’t been since we found her. But he’ll notice if I don’t eat, so I pick up my sandwich and go through the motions. Chew and swallow. Rinse and repeat.

“I feel like I need to put you out of your misery,” he declares through a mouthful of food. “I’m okay, bro. I mean, I’m not, but I am, ya know? I’m sad. I’m sure I’ll have regrets and low days. But if you’re waiting for me to lose it, you’re going to be waiting a long time. Right now, I’m fine.”

He finishes chewing, then shoves a handful of chips into his mouth. “I figured I’d just lie low between now and the services next week. Is that your plan, too? To chill here at the house?”

Relief washes over me. Relief and agitation. Lying low and being home with him should be my priority right now. But I can’t help but think about the blond-haired, brown-eyed girl across town who’s leaving for good in less than three weeks.