Chapter 2

"You need to understand, Ethan," Savannah said, her voice firm, like she was explaining something to a child. "Liam has had such a hard life. This is the least we can do."

Brooke chimed in, her gentle voice now a weapon. "He's family, Ethan. He deserves support. You should be happy for him."

Skylar, eyes still on Liam, added, "Yeah, Ethan. Don't be selfish."

Selfish. Me.

The word echoed in the sudden silence of the room.

I looked from one sister to another.

The women I grew up with, who I considered my true sisters.

Their faces were earnest, convinced of their righteousness.

Chloe stood slightly behind them, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable but clearly aligned with them.

My chest felt tight, like a band was squeezing the air out of me.

This was it.

The final severing.

They weren't just choosing him over me in small ways anymore.

This was everything.

My last thread of hope in this town.

And they handed it to him on a silver platter.

"Fine," I said. The word was barely a whisper.

What else was there to say?

A wave of relief washed over Liam's face, quickly masked by a look of pained gratitude.

"Oh, Ethan," Chloe said, her voice suddenly soft, almost pitying. "It's for the best."

They started fussing over Liam then.

"Let's get some ice on that ankle," Savannah said, already guiding him out of my room.

Brooke hurried after them. "I'll make you some of that soup you like, Liam. The one Mom used to make for Ethan."

Skylar paused at the door, looking back at me.

For a fleeting second, I thought I saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes.

Then it was gone. "We'll tell Coach Henderson," she said, and followed the others.

Leaving me alone.

Again.

I sank onto my bed.

The room felt cold, empty.

It used to be so full of warmth.

I remembered game nights, Mom and the girls cheering louder than anyone in the stands.

Savannah, always so proud, ruffling my hair.

Brooke baking my favorite cookies, the smell filling the whole house.

Skylar drawing pictures of me as a superhero quarterback.

Chloe.

Chloe, with her bright smile and endless belief in me.

Her hands in mine, promising forever.

I remembered after I'd pulled Skylar from the lake, how she'd clung to me, shivering.

Mom had held my arm, tracing the gash the rocks had made. "My brave boy," she'd whispered, tears in her eyes.

Savannah had called me her hero.

Brooke had cleaned and bandaged it so carefully.

Chloe had kissed the scar, her eyes shining. "My Ethan," she'd said. "Always protecting us."

That scar. They used to touch it like it was a medal.

Now, it was just a mark on my skin, a forgotten story.

Everything changed when Liam arrived.

He told them he was my half-brother, son of the father I never really had.

Suddenly, I wasn't their son, their brother, anymore.

Not really.

Not in the way that mattered.

Liam was blood. I was... adopted. A fact that never seemed to matter until he came.

He cried about his lost childhood, his struggles.

They lapped it up.

Savannah, usually so sharp, saw only his "needs."

Brooke's empathy, once a comfort to me, became a river flowing only to Liam. She even started cooking my favorite comfort food, the dish she taught me, exclusively for him.

Skylar, my little adoring shadow, was mesmerized by Liam's fake worldly charm, forgetting the brother who'd risked his life for her.

And Chloe.

Chloe fell for his act, his feigned vulnerability.

She started seeing him, believing his lies about me.

He staged something, made me look bad, made himself look like her protector.

She broke our engagement.

Publicly.

Then came the camping trip. The storm. The flash flood.

The water rising so fast.

Liam and I, both caught on a rapidly eroding riverbank.

They were on the other side, with a rope.

One rope. One choice.

I saw it in their eyes.

Savannah, making the "logical" decision.

Brooke, crying, but pulling for Liam.

Skylar, screaming Liam's name.

Chloe, her face a mask of terror, helping them pull Liam to safety.

Leaving me.

The current took me. Smashed me against rocks.

My shoulder, my knee. Gone.

My football career. Gone.

All because they chose him.

That was the moment I knew.

Truly knew.

I was no longer one of them.

I was an outsider.

My bag was still half-empty.

I had to finish packing.

I had to get out.