“Thank you for today,” he tells me, the fire cracking in the background. His eyes look darker in the dimness, only reflecting the flames behind me. Was he always this close?

I blink. “It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s not. Callie was so scared. I was so scared. If you hadn’t taken control and offered to drive to my mom, I don’t know what we would’ve done.”

“I’m just glad I was able to help.”

His gaze stays on mine for a long moment before drifting back to his sister. “It’s been really hard for her. Her entire life has been flipped around in a few months.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Illness often forces you to grow far too fast.

“I wish she could be just a kid for one day.” He drags a hand down his face. “And now her birthday is coming up on Saturday, but I don’t think Ma has had the time to organize something, and I have no clue what a soon-to-be-eleven-year-old could want for a party.”

My gaze flits back to the small figure lying on the carpet, curled into herself.

“I mean…” I wring my fingers together. Why am I nervous? This is fine. “I could help you.”

He automatically shakes his head. “No. You’ve done more than enough. This isn’t on you.”

“Aaron, I don’t mind. I want to help.” They deserve it. Plus, it’s not like I have better things to do at home. I could always rearrange my typical Saturday schedule. Now that I’ve done it a few times, it’s much less frightening to change things up.

He continues examining me like he’s looking for a lie.

“Besides,” I say, “if I do nothing, Callie will probably have a lumberjack-themed birthday party, and literally no one would want that.” I keep a straight face and only crack up when Aaron bursts out laughing. On the floor, Callie shifts at the sound, but thankfully doesn’t wake.

“You’re right, I’d probably mess this up.”

“You can’t have all the talents,” I say with a shrug.

He grins. “Are you absolutely sure, though? I don’t want us to be your burden.”

“I am very sure.”

He has no idea just how unburdened I’ve felt ever since I got to know them.

I look down at my watch, wincing when I spot the time. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll get going now.”

“What?” he says, head snapping up. “No way, it’s too late.”

“It’s fine, I’ll—”

“Wren, please,” he interrupts. “Let us at least do that for you.”

I shift my lips to one side. It is almost 3:00 a.m.