Page 95 of Cole

“I have to,” she said softly. “Otherwise, what was any of it for?”

Benji was quiet for a moment. “You know, Julian called me yesterday.”

Annie looked up in surprise. Their older brother rarely called her unless it was a holiday or a birthday. Plus, they’d had a tenseconversation the last time he called about her getting in contact with their biological mom. She’d let him know that she wasn’t interested in meeting with her, and that wasn’t going to change. He felt that was wrong, and they’d exchanged some harsh words over her refusal to acquiesce.

“What did he want?” Most of the time, Julian acted like Benji didn’t exist, so it was shocking that he’d called him.

“To check on you, actually. He heard from Dad about what happened.”

“Great. So the whole family knows about my heartbreak.”

“He was worried about you,” Benji insisted. “But he also said something interesting. He said Dad tried the same controlling tactics with him, and that’s why he lives his life so publicly now.”

Annie frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Julian said Dad tried to dictate who he could date, where he could live, what he could do with his life—all in the name of safety and privacy. But Julian refused. He said he wasn’t going to live in fear because of what happened to you and Angelica.”

Annie stared at her brother, absorbing this new information. “He never told me that.”

“I don’t think you and Julian have had a real conversation in years,” Benji pointed out. “I mean, he and I never talk, but even though the two of you do, I don’t think it’s been anything of substance, from what you’ve said.”

Annie couldn’t deny that. She and Benji lived a very different life from Julian, who seemed to be the life of every party he attended. And who had gotten into some sticky situations due to his tendency to drink too much.

“Julian said Dad’s fear is real, but it’s also become an excuse to control us. Especially you.”

Annie’s mind raced with this new perspective. Had her father’s protectiveness morphed into something more insidious over the years? Had she accepted limitations on her life that weren’t actually necessary?

“What are you saying?” she asked, though she already knew.

“I’m saying maybe you shouldn’t give up so easily.” Benji nodded toward the television. “And maybe neither should he.”

The second half of the game was starting. Cole had been put back in, but his movements were mechanical, lacking their usual grace and confidence. Annie unmuted the TV just as he attempted a three-pointer that bounced off the rim.

“But if Dad was right about the threat,” Annie said slowly, “then Cole could be in danger because of me.”

“Or Dad could be exaggerating to get his way,” Benji countered. “When was the last time there was an actual threat?”

“But maybe there have been no threats because of his efforts to keep us safe.”

“Maybe,” Benji conceded with a shrug.

“People don’t know about us, so they don’t know to threaten us,” she reminded him.

“True, but he’s put enough security precautions in place that no one should be able to reach us without one of the team being alerted.”

Annie watched as Cole committed another turnover, frustration evident in the set of his shoulders. “But what if he’s right this time? I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to Cole because of me.”

“What about what’s happening to him now?” Benji gestured at the screen. “Look at him. He’s miserable.”

Annie felt tears prick at her eyes. “What am I supposed to do? Dad won’t change his mind.”

“Maybe you don’t need his permission anymore.” Benji’s voice was gentle but firm. “You’re an adult, Annie. You’ve spent a lot of time fighting for more freedom for me, but at some point, you have to decide if you’re going to fight for that freedom for yourself. Are you going to live your life or Dad’s version of it?”

The words hung between them as they watched the remainder of the game in silence. Cole’s team lost by twelve points, his worst performance of the season. As the final buzzer sounded, the camera caught his expression—hollow, defeated, lost.

Annie stood abruptly. “I need some air.”

Outside on her small porch, the frosty night air bit at her cheeks. Stars glittered overhead, bright and distant against the black canvas of the sky. She drew a deep breath, letting the chill fill her lungs.

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