Coffee with my brother should be easy enough, right? Couldn’t be any worse than the disastrous meeting with Paul.

I was having second thoughts now, though.

We settled into a table near the front of the campus Starbucks while I eyed him warily. It was sad and awkward and comforting all at once to be with him.

Derek was dressed the same as always, in athletic pants and a Bulldogs top—today it was a hoodie. His entire closet was a monochromatic blur of gray and navy blue.

He glanced down at his white cardboard cup before meeting my eyes again. I swore to God if he said one word about Chase, I would leave immediately and ignore him until Christmas.

“So…Mom and Dad are selling the house,” Derek said.

My stomach pitched. “What? How come?”

The cozy brick two-story wasn’t anything impressive. It was well lived-in, to be sure. The beige carpets needed replacing, the worn hardwood could have used refinishing, and the bathrooms were terribly outdated.

But it was the house I grew up in. The house we came back to for holidays. The place my mother loved more than anything, with the garden that she babied year after year, spending hours each day tending to the peonies and rose bushes.

It was warm and welcoming, comforting when I needed it. And one of my favorite places in the entire world.

“I guess Dad’s been out of work for a little while. They can’t afford to keep it.”

Everything came crashing down. A wave of nausea slammed into me. Hard.

“Hold the phone,” I said. “Dad is out of work? Since when?”

Why was it that when one thing went right in my life, something else immediately went off the rails?

He hesitated. “June. They didn’t have him return this fall. Education budget cuts, I guess. They axed a bunch of the older, more experienced teachers in favor of hiring new graduates who are cheaper.”

“Why are you only telling me this now?”

“I just found out, B.”

Glowering at Derek from across the table, I took a sip of my vanilla latte. It held no appeal anymore, but I couldn’t justify wasting it.

“Are you sure about that?” If he’d kept this from me, I was going to be so ticked.

“Yes,” he insisted. “They didn’t want either of us to worry.”

I frowned, still pinning him with a stern glare. Something didn’t add up. “Why am I hearing this from you instead of Mom and Dad?”

“Mom wanted me to tell you in person. She thought you’d take it hard,” he said carefully.

She was right. Especially considering the house had been almost paid off until they refinanced it to cover my medical bills. This was basically my fault. Not just basically—it was. Literally all because of me.