His Brother’s Shadow

For some reason, Brad felt much better. Maybe it was the cigarette, maybe it was Stone's company, but he actually felt a bit lighter. At least until he walked into the main house, where guilt immediately hit him—he really had been too harsh on Olivia.

Raising kids was no joke.

He wondered if he should apologize and ease her punishment when he overheard part of a conversation from the kitchen:

"Why won't you tell him?" Angela couldn't understand her sister's behavior. "He'd understand, I'm sure..."

But Olivia was unmoved.

"I just don't want to."

"But..."

"Look, Uncle has enough of his own problems."

Brad froze instantly. They were talking about him.

"Yeah, I know, but..."

"I hit him, that's a fact. I broke the school rules. They should have suspended me for at least a week, but they didn't. If Uncle doesn't punish me, he might get into trouble because of it later. We both might."

"Yes, but..."

"Do you think it's easy for him to raise someone else's children? Have you forgotten how much he's sacrificed for us?"

"No, I haven't forgotten."

"That's why we need to cooperate with him instead of making things harder."

"Yeah, you're right. Do you think that's enough potatoes?"

"Let's peel a few more. If there are any left, we can make pancakes."

Brad stood still for a moment, as if the world around him had suddenly slowed down. His chest rose with a deep breath, but he exhaled slowly, almost cautiously, as if afraid that moving too suddenly would shatter something fragile and precious. His lips pressed together, and a shadow of emotion flickered across his face, quickly replaced by something else—quiet, unwavering determination.

Gratitude, pride, and guilt churned inside him, clashing against each other, making his shoulders tense beneath the fabric of his shirt. This shouldn't be their concern. They were just teenagers, for God's sake—still kids who should feel safe, not worry about the burdens he carried. And yet… they were already fifteen, and in their eyes, he increasingly saw not just youthful innocence, but something more—maturity, resolve, that glint of cool analysis he had once thought belonged only to adults.

He ran a hand over the back of his neck, as if trying to shake off the weight of that realization. They didn't have to do this. They could pretend not to see, not to know, they could focus on themselves—but no, instead, they cared about him. No less than he cared about them.

His lips twitched in a slight, almost imperceptible smile. Something warm spread through his chest, solid and steady. Damn, he was really proud of them.

Brad stepped back toward the doorway. Their conversation wasn't meant for his ears, so it was better to pretend he hadn't heard anything. He pushed the door open and let it slam shut, as if he were just coming inside. Adopting an indifferent expression, he walked into the kitchen.

"I just ran into the doc and gave him a heads-up about dinner. How's it going?"

He didn't need to ask to know. The meat lay on the cutting board, seasoned with salt and pepper, and the girls were finishing peeling the potatoes.

"It'll be ready in forty minutes," Angela assured him.

"Need any help? Peeling cucumbers, or…"

"No, no," Angela quickly said. "You'll just get in the way. We've got it."

"Okay. Olivia..." The girl stopped peeling and looked at him blankly. "If you change your mind and want to tell me what happened, I can ease the punishment."

She met his gaze, without the slightest hint of hesitation. Her chin lifted slightly, and the delicate features of her face tensed in an expression of firm determination.

She held her breath for a fraction of a second, as if debating whether to say anything at all, then shook her head firmly. Not abruptly, not in a fit of childish defiance, but with the cool conviction of someone who had made a decision and had no intention of backing down.

"I did something wrong. I deserve the punishment."

There was no remorse in her voice, only a quiet, measured acknowledgment of the facts.

Hearing those words, Brad felt something tighten in his chest—heavy, unpleasant, as if an iron band had wrapped around his heart. She was still a child, but at that moment, he didn't see a fifteen-year-old girl in front of him. He saw the reflection of someone else.

It was in her gaze—hard, unyielding, as if she hadn't even considered retreating. In the way she lifted her chin, without losing an ounce of grace. In the composure that held no trace of childish rebellion, only a cold acceptance of her own guilt and its consequences.

That day his brother had looked exactly the same.

Brad didn't move, though the fingers of his right hand curled into a fist. He knew that expression all too well. And he knew that if Olivia had inherited that same quiet determination from her father, then whatever had happened, she wouldn't take a single step back.

"Alright," he conceded. "Since I have nothing to do here, I'll be in my room."

"Okay. We'll call you when dinner's ready!"

He smiled at Angela—warmly, though with a hint of exhaustion. He liked her cheerfulness, that quiet optimism that seemed to balance out Olivia's stubbornness. But when his gaze shifted to her sister, his smile dimmed slightly, like a candle flickering in a sudden draft.

He had no idea if he was doing a good job. Honestly, he felt like he failed more often than he met expectations. And yet, the girls were growing into smart, strong, and responsible young women. Maybe they'd even be better off without him—he, as always, caused more trouble than he was worth. But the law required minors to have a guardian.

And whether he liked it or not, he was that guardian.

Unconsciously, his gaze drifted toward his lost sanctuary. The annex, his former refuge from the world, now belonged to someone else. A stranger had taken over his space, his solitude. And yet… he felt no irritation. Maybe because that stranger was Colin. And Colin wasn't the worst.