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Relief washed over his worried face.
“And I never thought I’d say this, Max, but I’m proud of you.”
His expression lifted. “Thanks, Finn. You have no idea what that means to me.”
“Of course I do,” I said, pulling him into a hug. “Whose opinion could possibly mean more to you than mine?”
He laughed, his chest shaking as he hugged me.
“It’s going to be alright,” I said, patting his back.
And then he broke down, crying in my arms like a hurt little kid. Just like I cried that night in Sacramento, when I finally admitted to myself that I couldn’t save him, that I had to walk away before he dragged me down, too.
But he’d saved himself. In the end, my baby brother had saved himself. And he was going to be alright.
And for the first time in ten years, I thought maybe I wasn’t such a bad brother after all.
