Behind me, Ruby called my name once, sharper, but I didn’t turn around.
Part 4
That night, Nicole called me.
Her voice came through my phone hesitant, like she’d already decided she didn’t want to be in the middle but couldn’t avoid it anymore.
“Ruby told Liam about your meeting,” she said. “He’s furious.”
“What else is new?”
Nicole sighed. “He sent a group text to everyone saying you harassed Ruby.”
I laughed once, short and humorless. “She asked to meet.”
“I know,” Nicole said quickly. “I’m just telling you what he’s saying. Your mom’s crying. Aunt Wendy’s demanding someone explain what’s happening.”
Aunt Wendy. Vince’s sister. A woman who hadn’t spoken to me in nearly a decade, not since Vince’s funeral, where she’d hugged my mother and Liam and looked through me like I was a chair.
“I’m not harassing anyone,” I said. “I’m enforcing a contract.”
Nicole hesitated. “But Ruby’s pregnant.”
“So?”
Nicole went quiet. In the silence, I could hear the truth she didn’t want to say: it was easier for everyone if I just swallowed it. It was easier if the furniture stayed quiet.
After we hung up, my phone buzzed with a notification from my landlord: Hey, got a call about your unit. Need to confirm you’re not subletting. Can you send documentation?
I stared at the message until my eyes burned.
Liam.
He’d gone from “we’re brothers” to trying to mess with my housing because he couldn’t control me.
I sent my landlord a copy of my lease and utility bills. It was enough to shut it down, but the message was clear: Liam was willing to scorch the earth if he didn’t get his way.
The next day, Aunt Wendy called.
Her number lit up my screen like a ghost.
Curiosity won over resentment. I answered.
“Hello?” I said.
There was a pause, then Wendy’s voice, older than I remembered. “It’s Wendy.”
“I know,” I replied.
Another pause. “Can we meet?” she asked. “I… I want to talk.”
I almost said no. Almost. But something in her tone sounded different. Not demanding. Not manipulative. Just… heavy.
We met at a sandwich shop near her house. Wendy arrived with careful steps, hair white, eyes tired. She looked at me like she’d been practicing this moment in her head.
“I’m sorry,” she said as soon as we sat.
I blinked. “For what?”
“For not speaking up,” she said, voice trembling. “I watched Vince treat you poorly for years. I didn’t like it. But… family kept the peace. I told myself it wasn’t my place.”
I let the words settle. An apology from Wendy didn’t change my childhood. It didn’t rewind the holidays. It didn’t erase the way my mother had looked at her wine glass.
But it was something.
“Thank you,” I said, and I meant it.
Wendy nodded, swallowing. “I don’t have any secret information,” she added quickly, like she feared I’d think she was dangling something. “No will surprises. I just… I didn’t want you to think everyone agreed with him.”
“I don’t,” I said. “But it doesn’t change anything.”
Wendy’s eyes filled. “I know.”
We talked a little longer, about nothing important, and then we stood and left. In the parking lot, she touched my arm lightly. “Be careful,” she said. “Liam’s panicking. People panic ugly.”
She was right.
The ninety days were almost up.
On the last week, I received a notice from the bank—potential default proceedings. Liam had missed a payment, trying to juggle realtor fees and repair costs for listing. The bank didn’t care about family history. It cared about numbers.
That night, Liam showed up again at my apartment. No performance this time. No brotherly smile. He looked like someone who’d been awake for days.
He stood in my doorway, hands shaking slightly. “How could you do this?” he asked, voice cracked. “To Ruby. To the baby. To Mom.”
I studied him. This was the first time I’d seen him without the armor of entitlement.
“You still think this is about one comment,” I said.
His eyes flashed. “Because it was one comment! At a party!”
I nodded slowly. “And every Christmas I wasn’t invited to. Every birthday you celebrated while I sat alone. Every time you told people I preferred being alone. Every time you made sure my absence felt normal.”
Liam’s jaw clenched. “You were always too sensitive. You made everything about you. If you’d just been normal—”
“Normal,” I repeated, and something inside me went still. “You mean quiet. Grateful. Easy to ignore.”
Liam’s mouth opened, then shut.
I stepped back slightly, not letting him in. “I’ve been living with what you did my whole life,” I said. “Now it’s your turn.”