Sweet Dandelion

But he doesn’t.

I’m thankful for it, but I also know he doesn’t because he already knows the answer.

Chapter Fourteen

“Where are you going again?” Sage asks at my back as I dig through the fridge for orange juice.

“Bell Canyon.” I wrap my hand around the bottle and pull it out, pouring a glass for myself and Sage.

“Oh, yeah, I know that place. Been a few times. You’ll like it.” He sits down on one of the barstools. “Do you need a ride?”

I take a sip of juice and bite my lip. “Uh, actually Ansel will be picking me up in about fifteen minutes. We’re going to grab breakfast first.” His eyes narrow. “Sage,” I groan, because I know he’s about to go on a tangent.

His fingers tighten around his glass. “Tell that kid to park in the garage and come up here. I want to meet him.”

“Sage, seriously? He’s my friend. It’s not like he’s a serial killer.”

His hazel eyes pierce me and he looks like he wishes he could knock some sense into me. “I have a right to meet who you’re hanging out with, Dandelion.”

I know he’s pissed when he calls me by my first name.

“I’m sorry.” I mean it too. “Balancing the fact that you’re my brother but also my guardian isn’t easy.”

He exhales a weighted breath, shoving his fingers through his wavy golden brown tresses. “It’s weird for me too, D.” His hands flex into fists before he flattens them on the granite. “I don’t want to fail you or mom and dad.”

I’ve never stopped to think about what it must be like to be in his shoes, to be responsible for his younger sister now that there’s no one else.

Sure, we have extended family, but our normal family unit is obliterated. I imagine this would be even more difficult if I were younger.

“I’ll be more respectful,” I whisper quietly.

He groans. “You’re respectful, Dani. I think for you I’m your annoying, overprotective older brother, which is fine—I still am in a way, but I’m also basically your—” He stops, pressing his lips together.

His sorrow filled eyes meet mine.

We both know the word he kept himself from uttering.

Parent.

Sage is basically my parent.

But if that’s true, then who does he have to look out for him?

“I’ll text Ansel.”

“Thank you.”

“I better finish getting ready.”

I can tell he’s turning inward and I don’t know how to pull him out of it.

I talk to Mr. Taylor, but who does Sage have to talk to?

Shooting a quick text to Ansel I slip my feet into a pair of tennis shoes I haven’t worn in forever. I know a hike might be too much for my leg, but I want to try. I’m tired of being crippled, not by my leg but my fears.

It isn’t long until Ansel tells me he’s parking.

Walking down the hall, I find Sage in the spot I left him, sitting forlornly at the kitchen counter.