“I’m not going to step in and be a parent,” I say.

“But you would have to,” he says. “Eventually. If it lasts.”

“Bear?”

“Yeah?”

“When did you know? That Otter was it for you?”

He seems surprised by the question. “I don’t know. I guess it was when he came back, though it went further than that. I know that now. There was always something there. I just needed to admit it to myself.”

“But what was the exact moment?”

He sighs. “After she came back. When she threatened us. When I broke up with Otter. The look on his face. I… his heart was breaking, and I never wanted to see that again. So when I was saying good-bye, that was when I knew. When I thought it was over.”

“The day we left for New Hampshire,” I say. “When I had to say good-bye to Dominic. That was the day for me.”

“Shit,” Bear says, his voice filling with disdain. “We’re the same.”

I snort. “Wow. Thanks for making it sound awful. It’s not that bad!”

“Are you out of your mind?” he almost shouts at me. “Do you know some of the shit I’ve done? If we’re the same, that means you’re going to do it too!”

I groan. “Please, do not elaborate on that. I don’t want to know.”

“But I’ve let Otter—”

“Bear! Oversharing! Unless you want me to tell you what Dom did—”

He pales. “You shut your mouth right this second.”

“Do you think Otter and Dom are talking shit about us?”

He sighs. “Probably. We’re slightly… neurotic.”

“I don’t know if that even begins to describe us.”

“We have to start somewhere.”

“Are we good?” I ask him.

He laughs shakily. “Yeah, Kid. We are. Though why do I have a feeling this isn’t over?”

“Because it’s not.”

“I’m not going to like this part, am I?”

“Dom said the same thing.”

“Then you’re fucked.”

“Probably,” I agree. “But I have to.”

“They need to hear this?” he asks, motioning his head toward the back patio.

I nod. “Might as well get this over with.”

He watches me for a moment, and it’s like looking in a mirror. He turns and heads toward the patio door. Before he disappears from sight, he stops. He doesn’t turn, but I can hear him just fine. “I’m proud of you,” my brother says. “More than I could ever say. No matter what happens, I want you to know that.”

“I know,” I say.

“Just remember your promise. Okay? Whatever you’ve decided to do. Please. That’s… that’s all I ask.”

“You and me. That’ll never change, Papa Bear.” And it won’t. I’ll never let it.

He nods, apparently satisfied. Then he’s gone.

And I wait for them to come back in, wondering just how I’m going to say what needs to be said to them. My family. My brother. My almost-father. The love of my short, albeit extremely complicated life. It’s going to be difficult.