He rounded on me. “No! Ensuring you grew into a productive, capable adult, that was the only thing I allowed myself to worry about for so many years.” He looked me up and down, then gestured to the chaotic pantry, to the dishes on the sink, and sighed. “Clearly I failed miserably.”

That same old hurt that I tried not to feel unfurled, and I stepped back. I bumped into the bench, freshening up the bruise on my hip from last night. I felt the all too familiar lump expanding in my throat, the heat unfurling behind my eyes. But I was not going to let him see it. I’d cried too many times in front of my casually cruel brother. I’d learned that tears didn’t help my cause one iota.

“Okay, we’re done here,” I said firmly. I wished I could have high-fived myself for how my voice didn’t wobble at all. “Thank you for your unnecessary visit. You’ve satisfied yourself that Ezra was overreacting. I have a lot of work to do for my business today—you know, I took a load of orders yesterday, so I need to get crocheting.”

“Crocheting,” he muttered with a shake of his head. And that hit my tolerance limit for his nonsense.

I surged forward and shoved him, hard. I must have managed to catch him off guard because he stumbled backwards, hooking his ankle on the open pantry door. He did this weird sort of twisty, awkward, arm-flailing move, his feet like skates under him. Spinning, he tripped over his other foot, knocked his elbow against the fridge, and staggered into the hallway, colliding with the wall. The apartment shuddered.

I tried not to laugh. I honestly did. What he’d just said to me was so incredibly unfunny.

But … the karma of it was just so delicious that I couldn’t help but giggle. And that giggle turned into a full-on belly laugh until I was clutching my aching stomach, tears of mirth streaming down my cheeks.

He straightened, brushing his shirt off, his cheeks flaming, his mouth a tight, angry line. I bit my lip, but another splutter of chuckles burst out with a violent raspberry sound.

“Sometimes I don’t know why I still bother,” he snapped, storming towards the door. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t, because I was just going to honk with laughter if I opened my mouth.

He threw me one last, disgusted glare and left. And with him, all the merriment leeched from me, and I sagged against the wall.

I’d given up a long time ago on making my brother proud.

“Sometimes, we just suck at things … and that’s okay,” I reminded myself. “It’s okay to suck at meeting Joe’s impossible standards.”