He was quiet a second. “Why would you think you’re being a burden?”

I bit my lip again, mashing them together. I tasted blood.

His voice was low. “Who made you feel like a burden?”

I remained silent.

“Charlie.”

I had to grin at that. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name.”

“You serious?”

“Yeah. It’s nice.”

He let out a strangled sound. “I feel like a dumbass. Jesus. I was calling you a gnat. I’m sorry.”

I shrugged, but remembered he couldn’t see. “We were going with the theme. Remember, I was your stalker in the beginning.”

“Don’t start—”

“I was, Reese.” That quieted him. “Damian liked you first, you know. I’ve always liked basketball. My two brothers played. One was a big star in school, and we weren’t close, but I felt close to him then. I think that’s when I really started loving the game. He didn’t give me any attention—I was a gnat to him. I don’t think he meant it in a bad way, but older brothers get caught up in being cool, you know? Except for basketball. I mean, I had to act a certain way. I could only say a couple things to him during a game, like hand him a water or give him a towel, but it meant something to me. I did stats, and he was the team’s star on passing. That’s why I started following you. Your passes are phenomenal. No one can match you in the league, and your ball handling skills are unprecedented. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that before this—before you and I became friends—you were already more than just a basketball player to me. You connected me to a good memory from my brother, and the same with Damian. We’d watch your games together, and for some reason, he was always Damian during those times. I still had him. He’d slip away later on, but I always knew he was Damian for eighty-two games a year—the ones we could watch on television, I mean.”

Reese was quiet. We walked a few feet, then, “Your brother didn’t let you speak to him?”

More lip mashing.

I twisted the ends of my sleeves into balls, knotting them together.

“To give him credit, I was probably annoying—”

“No little sister is truly annoying. They’re younger, and they just want to be loved. Unless they’re spoiled brats. Then it’s different. I have a feeling you weren’t spoiled.”

I wasn’t. Ignored? Forgotten? Yes. Not spoiled. Definitely not that.

“Did your family help with Damian?”

It hurt to talk about it. My insides were being stretched until I felt they were going to break apart.