Mom pulls Olivia into a tight hug. “Call me when you get there,” she says for the third time. “And text. And don’t forget to eat real food.”
Olivia laughs, though her eyes are glassy. “I won’t, Mom.”
Luke steps in next, wrapping her up and lifting her clean off the ground despite her squawk of protest. Justin and Chloe follow, each of them clinging to her longer than usual.
Dad uncrosses his arms and offers her a brief, stiff hug—more a pat on the back than an embrace. “Drive safe,” he mutters.
“I will,” she replies softly.
When the others step away, she turns to me with a crooked grin. “See ya later, boss.”
I huff out a quiet laugh. “Don’t call me that.”
“You love it,” she teases, stepping into me.
I fold her into a hug, arms wrapped snugly around her shoulders. I blink hard against the sting building behind my eyes, focusing on the feel of her T-shirt beneath my palms, the familiar scent of her shampoo.
“I’m proud of you,” I murmur.
She leans up on her toes, her mouth close to my ear. “I’m proud of you too.”
I frown. “For what?”
She pulls back just enough to look at me. “For finding yourself this summer,” she says softly.
My breath stutters in my chest. “What—”
“Tell Troy I said goodbye,” she adds with a subtle wink. “And I hope to see him next time I come visit.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “Liv—”
She squeezes my arm, cutting me off before I can spiral. Her voice softens. “I love you. And just so you know? We’ve got you. All of us.” Her eyes flick briefly toward our siblings. “You’re not as alone as you think.”
“I—” I clear my throat and let out a shaky breath. “I love you too.”
She hugs me one last time before pulling away.
I step back and drag my sleeve across my face like I’m wiping away sweat, but really I’m fighting the burn behind my eyes. If I cried in front of my dad, I’d never hear the end of it. I can already hear his voice, the same lines he fed me every time I let a tear slip as a kid.
Man up, Ashton.
It’s not worth crying about.
Don’t be so dramatic, son.
Even after all these years, the words still land like a fist to the sternum.
I draw in a slow breath, steadying myself. The last thing I need right now is to show any kind of weakness in front of dad.
Olivia slides into the driver’s seat, the door slamming shut with a hollow thud that echoes down the driveway. She rolls the window down, one hand curled around the steering wheel, black-painted nails catching in the sunlight.
“Love you guys!” she calls.
A chorus of farewells follows as the engine sputters to life. Gravel crunches beneath her tires while she backs out, lifting a hand in one last wave. Her gaze finds mine and lingers a beat longer than the rest, a gentle, knowing smile curving her mouth.
Then she’s gone.
I stay rooted to the spot long after the car disappears down the road, the dust settling in slow spirals around my boots. As I stare down the empty driveway, I realize the weight I’ve carried my entire life is suddenly a little bit lighter.
