I’m not sure when it was, how many days post-breakup, that I had come home from work to find Austin waiting for me on my porch. My brother was easy to spot from a distance; he was fidgeting, tapping his fingers against his knees. His face was blotchy red and his blond hair was a mess, making his features melt into something close to our father’s. There were no cars in the driveway or parked on the street, so I couldn’t figure out how he got there.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I asked, mildly panicked, and sat down next to him.

He shook his head.

My brother’s eyes were bloodshot and swollen like he hadn’t slept in days. His lips were dry and cracking, with little slices of red along the bottom one. He was even more disheveled than usual. Yet what would make most people unattractive only added to the many things that women found endearing about him. He was dressed in a white sweatshirt with Riverdale High School printed above a pocket on the left side. Riverdale High School?

“Is that Kael’s shirt?” I tugged on his sleeve.

“Huh?” Austin looked down at his sweatshirt and nodded.

My entire body shifted. Kael somehow snuck himself into my house via my brother. There was hardly a place where I was safe from reminders of him.

“Where did you get his shirt?”

“I was at his place and wore it.”

Before I could respond, he began to speak. “Let’s not fight about him, K. I already got into it with Dad.” Austin dipped his head down between his knees.

I didn’t know what to say. I wanted more answers, but I could feel my brother’s energy was depleted, and he, unlike me, had never been able to suffer in silence.

“To be honest, I’m tired of being back in Benning. I just want to go somewhere else. Not to Uncle Rudy’s again, just . . . somewhere else. Don’t you ever feel like that?”

“Yeah,” I said and sighed. “But I bought a house here, so I couldn’t go anywhere if I wanted to.”

Austin rolled his eyes. “That’s not an excuse. You know in this market you could sell and make more than you put into it.”

“Since when are you savvy about the housing market?” I asked, playfully challenging his authority. “Where would you even go if you left?”

Austin was a nomad, where I was a settler.

“Arizona. Barcelona,” he daydreamed.

“You can’t even point to Barcelona on a map.”

“Yeah, I can.” His light eyes were facing the sky, half opened. “And Berlin. Rome. Anywhere. Hell, I’d go live in a van on the coast. I really can’t stand being this close to Dad.”