“She regretted the way she handled everything,” I tell him. “Staying with our father because she was afraid of losing what little respect she had in this town. She had too much power, and they would try to strip it from her if she were some single woman. Therese believed being with that lowlife kept her safe.”

Ledger scoffs. “Crazy that you know more about her than any of us ever did.” He lets out another breath. “Thank you for being there for her when we couldn’t.” He hesitates, then shakes his head. “I resented her. For years. She let him hurt us just so she wouldn’t get hurt.”

I shake my head. They really don’t know.

“He didn’t hit her,” I confide what I know, what I saw. “But he abused her in other ways. He had this sick way of reminding her that she belonged to him. That no matter how much power she thought she had, he could take whatever she had because he owned her.”

Ledger swallows hard, his throat working. He looks away, blinking like he’s trying to make sense of something too big to process.

I don’t know if he’ll ever fully understand.

But I do.

Because I lived it.

I saw the way he ripped her clothes, the way his rage twisted into something cruel, something meant to break her down piece by piece. I saw the moment her strength cracked when her voice dropped into something pleading, something desperate.

I left before I could see her cry. Before I could watch her beg.

Ledger shifts on his feet, his jaw tight. “The point of this visit is . . . I know I’ve been a dick since day one, but I want us—not just the family, but you and me—to be closer. To really be brothers. I know it’s a long shot, but if you could find it in you to . . .”

He trails off, waiting for something I should probably deny him.

It’d be easy. Too easy.

I could tell him to fuck off. Tell him I don’t owe him shit. That the past is too far gone, that I rebuilt from the damage he helped create, and I don’t need to go back.

But instead, I say, “Okay.”

I do it for Therese, who wanted the five of us to be a family, even when she couldn’t see it when she was alive. For Blythe, and the kids we’ll have one day, who deserve a family that isn’t broken beyond repair.

And maybe—maybe for the six-year-old boy who lost his mom and came here hoping for something more than the fucked-up life he got instead.

They broke me.

But I rebuilt myself.

And this version of me—the man I fought to become—can try, even if it means letting this asshole in.