“That is nice,” he said dismissively. “You should talk to Tyler about business sometime. He has a real brain for it.”

Tyler snorted loudly. “I would never sell candles.”

Laughter followed. Easy. Effortless.

I let my gaze drift over the room. The clutter. The noise. The way my mother’s voice softened whenever Tyler spoke. The way my presence was tolerated like an obligation already fulfilled.

I did not know then that this would be the last time I ever stepped into my brother’s house.

It began when Tyler stood up with a full cup of soda in his hand. He moved around the table with careless swagger, bumping shoulders, making side comments that drew laughs. He was performing. Everyone was watching. Everyone was encouraging it.

I watched from the corner of my eye.

At the last second, he pivoted and walked directly toward me.

“Tyler,” my mother called fondly. “Do not spill that, sweetheart.”