I must hesitate for longer than Sophie finds comfortable. “I’m sorry if that was too presumptuous. You don’t have to answer that.”
Only, I want to answer it. Outside of Aunt Judy, the only other person I’ve spoken to regarding my sister’s medical needs is Chip, and even with him, I’ve been guarded and reluctant to share the intimate details of our situation. But with Sophie, guarded is the last thing I want to be.
“Money.” The simple admission humbles me to my core. My parents entrusted me to take care of Gabby. They entrusted me to provide for her when and if they no longer could. I won’t fail at that—not the way I failed them while they were still alive.
“What about medical insurance—isn’t she covered?”
“Not for this.”
Sophie’s appalled gasp is more endearing than she could possibly know. “Why not?”
“It’s too new,” I say simply. “Insurance approval takes time. I was told it could be years, and by then her degenerative condition will likely be too advanced for this operation.”
We’re silent for several minutes as we walk the length of the beach. Our footsteps leave behind a trail of unspoken thoughts as the waves grow testier. The dimming skyline reflects the tension out at sea, leaving behind a smear of crimson.
“Can I ask you something that could be borderline offensive?”
I nod.
“Was there any...” She hesitates, as if struggling to come up with the remainder of that sentence. “Did you parents leave you and your sister any kind of inheritance?”
“The house,” I say plainly. “Which is still a few years from being paid off, but it’s an asset nonetheless. My folks were wise with the money they made. They lived frugally and saved where they could, but they weren’t wealthy by any stretch. My father had a small life insurance policy due to his career in construction. It paid out just enough to cover their funeral costs and roughly half of Gabby’s initial surgery and hospital bills until we could get on a payment plan and apply for her social security. The rest, well...” I hesitate at the vulnerability of my next confession. “My career in LA was lucrative enough to be a supplemental source of income for the first year or so while I worked to grow my business here. But it’s been slow, even with the studio musicians I produce for each month.”
Sophie stops, disregarding the creeping tide that nips at our toes in the chilly surf. “Your entire world changed in a blink.”
I say nothing to this, but she isn’t wrong.
“And you came back here, even though you had an entire life in LA, a successful career you loved, industry connections.” I can see her mind puzzling it out. “Did you ever consider moving Gabby to you?”
“No.” I shove my hands into my pockets and remember one of the final arguments I had with Vanessa about this very subject after Gabby was finally stable enough for me to make the phone call I’d been dreading.“But why would you need to move back home, August?Whycan’t she just move here with us?”Vanessa whined when I told her Gabby’s prognosis.“My house is plenty big for the short term, and once she heals, we can put her in private school—maybe one of those boarding schools for people with disabilities.”I’d stared at my phone then, hearing my father’s predictions about a woman I never should have dated to begin with. It’s what finally gave me the courage to end it.
I chose my wants and desires over my family once; I would never make that mistake again.
“This is Gabby’s home,” I continue, blinking away the image of my ex-girlfriend and the baggage she represents. “The last thing she needed was another huge change after so much had been taken from her. She has friends here, a school, a church, a home she’s spent the formative years of her life in, and an aunt who plans weekend stays with her whenever possible. I couldn’t ask her to leave all that.”
“She’s lucky to have you as her big brother, August.”
Her statement is an emotion-packed punch to my gut. How badly I want that to be true, how badly I want to believe Gabby won’t grow up to resent me, the way I fear she might. Especially considering I turned Aunt Judy down when she offered to take my place and shoulder the responsibility of guardianship shortly after the accident.
“I hope she’ll feel that way one day.”
“I have no doubt she feels it even now.” The conviction in her voice tugs at my curiosity. “She might do her teenage angst stuff from time to time, but it’s obvious how much she respects you.”
I thank her and then silently study her profile as we begin to walk along the surf again. “What’s your relationship with your brother like?”
She makes a sound between a laugh and a sigh. “Nonexistent.”
Given the tense dynamics she’s described in conversations about her childhood and recent interactions with her family, that isn’t hard to imagine.
“He’s five years older than me, but our age gap is the least of our differences.” She shrugs and kicks at the water. “Where my dad is hardheaded and chauvinistic, Jasper is something altogether different.”
The odd note in her tone spikes my concern. “How so?”
“He’s hard to explain.” She sighs. “The majority of people who know him see Jasper as this celebrated business tycoon—all winsome smiles and networking events and pats on the back. He has friends who own private yachts and collect fine art, and he sends my parents on extravagant trips to extravagant destinations in his place. But it’s like I get this completely different version of him that nobody else seems to see. It used to make me feel crazy sometimes.” She shakes her head dismissively.
“What version is he with you?”
“Detached, yet somehow always in control.”