He never was.
The kitchen light is on when I let myself in. Not the main light, he small one above the counter.
I wash my hands at the sink and stand for a moment looking out at the dark garden, the treehouse is just a shape against the sky, and I breathe.
Then I turn around, they're all in the living room. All three of them. Mason on the sofa with his arms folded, ankles crossed on the coffee table. Miles in the armchair, and Declan on the other end of the sofa.
Nobody says anything for a moment, and I lean against the doorframe.
"You didn't have to wait up," I say.
"We didn't," Mason says, not missing a beat. "We're just all coincidentally awake at midnight for completely unrelated reasons."
Miles doesn't look at him. "Shut up, Mason."
"I'm just saying?—"
"How are you?" Declan asks.
"Fine," I say. He holds my gaze for a moment, questioning me. "Good fine," I say. "Not just fine."
He nods once. Satisfied.
Miles exhales slowly, leaning back in the armchair. "Cain texted," he says. "Just said it was done. That's all we know."
"That's all you need to know."
"I know." A pause from the three of them. "We know, H."
Mason is looking at the ceiling. "So," he says breaking the silence. "Patrick Holt?—
"Mason," Miles says.
"I'm not saying anything. I'm just saying the name. Patrick Holt." A pause. "Awful shame."
Despite everything, something moves through me. I start laughing.
"You're an idiot," I say.
"I prefer unbothered." Mason tilts his head toward me. "You eat? Mum left a plate."
I look at him.
This is Mason Crawford, my brother in his purest form, unable to sit with something heavy for longer than thirtyseconds before he has to do something practical or stupid or both. He's been this way since we were kids. It used to drive me insane. Right now, I could not be more grateful for it.
"Yeah," I say. "I'll eat."
He's already up toward the kitchen, Miles stands, and comes over to me, puts his hand on my shoulder, and then he goes to the kitchen too without a word.
Declan is last, and he looks at me, and he says very quietly. "She's okay. Checked on her an hour ago. She's asleep."
I look at him.
"Thank you," I say.
He nods. Then he follows the others.
I stand in the doorway for a moment longer, listening to Mason argue with Miles about whether the plate needs to go in the microwave or not, listening to the ordinary, familiar, completely grounding sound of my brothers being my brothers.
