Olivia’s POV

I stood in the supermarket aisle holding a box of pasta, still thinking about Joseph. “He’s my brother, Elliott. Blood is blood. He was the only person I had left after Mom and Dad died.”

Memories kept flooding back: the two of us hiding in the closet when Aunt Rosalyn was drunk, sharing a single blanket during winter, whispering plans to run away together once we were older. He had been my whole world back then. Even if he broke every promise, those memories were ...