“Jamie—”
“I didn’t want to make you choose.”
He looked up.
His eyes were wet.
“But I didn’t know loving Sophie would make somebody hate me.”
I reached across the table and held both his hands.
“You listen to me. You are my brother. Nothing changes that.”
He nodded.
But then his expression grew thoughtful.
“Mom knew.”
I frowned.
“Knew what?”
“About Claire.”
My hands went still.
“What do you mean?”
Jamie stood and walked toward the hallway closet.
He returned carrying an old blue backpack.
I recognized it immediately.
It had belonged to our mother.
After her funeral, I had given Jamie most of her personal belongings because he found comfort in keeping them close.
He unzipped the bag.
Inside were old photographs, a faded scarf, and a small wooden jewelry box.
He opened the box.
Beneath a pair of earrings lay a sealed envelope.
My name was written across the front.
