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“Can I get you anything?” I asked, pushing my ridiculous thoughts away. She was clearly sick. I should be helpful, not mentally beating myself up over whether I should switch deodorants.
She shook her head, craning her neck like she was trying to eavesdrop on the conversation Dylan and Lydia were having by the door.
“I’m sorry you had to come all the way over here,” she said, pulling her legs to her chest and hiking an old blanket up to her chin.
I sat next to her and shrugged. “No problem. We were headed out for a burger, but it’s fine. You know your brother.”
She sighed. “He’s way too overprotective.”
Before I could respond, Lydia was leaving and Dylan was stalking toward the couch, his face red and his fists clenched.
Dylan was my best friend. The Robin to my Batman. Nah, he wasn’t the sidekick type. More like the Donatello to my Michelangelo. Yeah, that worked. Especially since we’d spent the majority of our childhood playing Ninja Turtles in my backyard.
He was serious and careful and thoughtful. Never forgot his homework or left his coat at school. He had to be—taking care of not only himself but his little sister. While I was the wild child of my family.
I forced him to loosen up and be a kid, and he helped me tone down my antics just enough so that I could graduate and become a productive member of society.
Not that I had been particularly productive as of late. No, these days, I spent a lot of my time lying on his couch, beer in hand, complaining about Crystal.
He wasn’t overly tall. Not that I could talk. As the shortest Gagnon brother, I was constantly teased about it. At six feet, I was relatively tall compared to most, but my two older brothers were massive.
And while I was lean, Dylan was sturdy and strong. He was also one of the most capable and thoughtful people I’d ever known. Not to mention an extremely overprotective big brother.
“Jesus, Hazel,” he said, pacing the living room while running his hands through his wavy hair. “You scared me half to death. No more messing around. I’m taking you to the doctor tomorrow, and you’re scheduling that surgery.”
Hazel sat up, her moss green eyes flashing with anger. “You’re overreacting, as usual. It was just a small gallbladder attack. Nothing to go crazy over.”
Dylan stopped his pacing and looked from me to his sister, his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched. “The situation is only going to get worse, and there could be serious long-term consequences.”
At those words, I examined his little sister, who was now sitting next to me on the threadbare couch, wearing a calm expression.
“I have cholecystitis,” Hazel explained when she noticed me studying her. “It’s just my gallbladder.”
“Not just,” Dylan interrupted, his voice quivering with anger. “It’s severe inflammation.”
Hazel ignored him, still turned toward me. “I need to have my gallbladder removed eventually.”
“Immediately, actually. And if she doesn’t, she will die.”
“It’s not that dire. Eventually, yes, it could be bad. But right now, I’m weighing my options.”
There was something they weren’t telling me. Every muscle in Dylan’s body was taut, and Hazel was avoiding making eye contact with him. I was no stranger to sibling tension. As the youngest of four, I was used to it. Especially because we all worked together. Usually I’d crack a joke to defuse things. But this felt different.
I shifted on the couch, taking in the dark circles under Hazel’s eyes and the general air of exhaustion around her. “How can I help?”
She looked at her brother and then at me. They were a cohesive unit. They’d worked together, just the two of them, their whole lives. No parents, no supervision. They were responsible for themselves and each other.
Finally, after a long silence, Hazel spoke. “I don’t have health insurance.” She dropped her chin and picked a piece of invisible lint off the blanket draped over her knees. “And the little bit of savings I had went toward the tests. There were so many just to get a diagnosis.”
That information hit me like a punch to the gut. Gagnon Lumber had always offered excellent benefits to its employees and their families, so I’d been covered every day of my life. Sure, I had heard stories about people going bankrupt from medical bills, but I had never seen it up close.
In moments like this, I felt the distance between us. The privileges I had enjoyed in childhood—loving parents, a warm bed, healthy meals—were still paying dividends in my adult life. Where Dylan and Hazel were still scraping by, still crawling themselves out of the hole their parents had pushed them into.
“Let me pay for it,” Dylan pleaded.
“You don’t have that kind of money.”
“I can take out a loan. I’ve got a good job.”
