“There.” I drop her phone onto the bed beside me. “That man is poison. And you deserve so much better.”

Walsh’s chin quivers as tears cascade down her pink cheeks. “Henley… you have no idea how much I needed to hear you say that.”

We both completely dissolve. Gathering her in my arms, I rub slow circles up and down her back as she sobs against my shoulder. My own tears fall, trickling into my hair.

“How did I not know about any of this?” I whisper.

Walsh swipes a wrist across her nose. “Because it’s hard to get a hold of you. And sometimes, even when I do…” She trails off.

“What?” I urge.

“Well, I feel like I’m talking to a robot. Like you’re only half there because you’re thinking about the next thing to check off your list. ‘Talked to Walsh—check. Now time to feed the cat.’ ”

My jaw loosens and guilt floods me like a tsunami.

Because it’s true.

I can’t remember the last time I talked to Walsh where I’ve been 100 percent focused on her and not folding laundry or skimming emails or, literally, feeding the cat.

“I wanted to talk to you about Keith so many times. I just… didn’t know how.”

The anger and anxiety that has been holding me together since my fight with Graeme melts away, and the fissure inside me bursts open down to my soul.

Visions from our shared childhood cycle through my memory like a slideshow.

Walsh, a chubby three-year-old, crying because she fell and scraped her knee. I press a lopsided rainbow Band-Aid onto the spot along with a kiss.

Walsh, throwing her textbook across the room in frustration. She’s in seventh grade and failing math. I pick up the book and carry it back to the kitchen table. I open it in front of her and pull up a chair.

Walsh, getting into a screaming match with her high school boyfriend at a New Year’s Eve party. I’m visiting from college, and I tell him to get lost.

Walsh… fading into the background of my life. I graduate from college and move to Seattle. I find a job. I stop visiting as often. She calls, but I’m busy. Our talks are brief. She texts. I text a few words back. The years roll by and the distance between us grows I start an accelerated evening MBA program. I work long hours. I hardly text her back at all.

Walsh is my baby sister. And I haven’t been there for her. Not for a very long time.

And she’s not the only person I’ve pushed away. How many times have I blown off Christina when she’s invited me to lunch? And now Graeme…