Page 158 of You Fall First

“Abieville is a tiny town,” I counter. “Mayville is … medium.”

“Debatable.”

“They have a great hospital only a few miles away. In Southampton.”

“I’m aware.” She lets out a scoff. “Just visited. Do not recommend.”

“You were there for your appendix, not PT. And anyway, I’d go back to work at a clinic.”

“Have you completely forgotten how limited your options were back home? You did all that schooling, got all the experience, were literally brilliant at your job, and were stuck as an underling pretty much everywhere.”

“The old guard will retire eventually.”

“Eventually sucks, Noah.” She points down the street, toward downtown, sweeping an arm along the horizon. “Here, you get to run the entire PT and OT department for an incredible memory care community. That was your goal, remember? You left because you wanted to help people.”

“Yeah. But I didn’t help Mom, did I? Or Dad.”

Paige goes quiet, and my heart stutters. For a moment, the weight of that time—of losing them back-to-back—is suffocating. I’ll never know whether things might’ve been different if I’d stayed. Or if I’d gone home and leaned on Paige afterward instead of avoiding the pain.

At the time, though, I couldn’t shake the feeling that, in my parents’ absence, I had to pick up some kind of mantle no one asked me to carry.

“I just want to give you and Dutton a better life.”

She inhales deeply and lays a hand on her chest. “That’s not your job, though. That’s my job. And as long as we’re being honest, your insistence on taking care of us is sort of … condescending.”

This drags all the oxygen from my lungs. “Paige. I⁠—”

She lifts a palm, stopping me. “So when I did start to struggle, I already felt … less than, you know?”

I bend toward her, doubling over from the knife in my gut. My instinct is to put up a protest, tell her that’s the last thing I intended to do. But my sister’s sitting here on the porch, sharing her true feelings with me, and I won’t make this about defending myself.

She’s right. She’s an adult woman who’s capable of caring for herself and her son. We’re all just grownups making choices.

Doing our best.

“I’m so sorry, P.”

Her eyes soften. “I know that, or I wouldn’t be here now.” She takes a beat, arranges her face into a smile. “You’re an amazing brother, Noah. And an even more amazing uncle.”

I swallow, my gaze darting to the window, toward Dutton inside on the couch. Bugs is in his lap. On the coffee table is a bowl with traces of mac and cheese crusting on the rim. I made lunch for him today. I love making lunch for him. And after he and Paige move, I’ll be missing out on that again.

“I’ll pay you back every dime you spent on those movers, too,” she says. “As soon as I can.”

“Not necessary. You only hired movers because of me.” I heave a sigh, and her gaze settles on mine.

“What?”

“I just keep thinking about Mom and Dad,” I admit, my ribs tightening. “They were so happy when we were all together.”

She puffs a breath. “Sure, but they weren’t idiots.”

I swing my gaze back to her. “You keep using that word.”

“Because it keeps applying.” She cocks a brow. “Their dream wasn’t that you and I both stayed in Mayville forever, living next door to each other on Main Street. They just hoped we’d be close.” She reaches for my hand, gives it a squeeze. “And we are.”

My whole heart squeezes back.

“Us being close won’t change no matter how far apart we live,” she adds, taking her hand back. “But I’m not telling you to stay here either. That has to be your decision. I think we both got a big lesson in pushing our agendas on each other.”