He was afraid of everyone learning it at once.
I looked at Aunt Sandy.
“What did he tell you?”
“That his roof was leaking.”
Uncle Nolan answered next.
“He said he had medical bills.”
“He told me he was behind on his home payments.”
I knew Greg owned his house. I also knew he’d replaced the roof two years earlier.
“You kept me away because I would’ve compared the stories.”
Greg’s jaw tightened.
“You handled Dad’s accounts. You always checked everything.”
“It started that way.”
Dad’s voice filled the garage again.
“Money wasn’t the only reason. Greg was afraid of being replaced.”
Aunt Sandy frowned. “By whom?”
Every face turned toward him.
Joshua stayed beside the garage door.
Dad explained that Greg resented Joshua helping with repairs.
The furniture made it worse. Dad had asked Greg first, but Greg refused.
“I spent my whole life being the one Dad called.”
“He never stopped calling you,” Joshua said calmly.
“Then you showed up with your jokes and projects.”
“You wouldn’t understand, Joshua. Neither would you, Chloe.”
I walked to the television and switched it off.
The sudden silence felt heavier than Dad’s voice.
Greg turned to me.
“You always made me feel like the irresponsible one,” he said.
“You had the answers. Dad listened to you. Everyone trusted you.”
“I was simply the person most likely to notice,” I said.
His mouth tightened.
“So, instead of changing what you were doing,” I said, “you removed me from the room.”
“I was trying to keep everything from falling apart.”
“No. You were trying to stop people from comparing your stories.”
“For five years?”
He looked down.
I glanced at the relatives behind him.
People I’d loved from a distance because I believed distance was what they wanted.
My brother.
The man who brought me coffee after Dad died.
The man who called himself my protector.
