Regan didnât answer her brotherâs question, far too occupied with the tears that began welling her eyes. She threw one of the pillows across the room, then slunk off of the couch and onto the ground. âItâs bullshit!â Regan screamed as she brought her knees to her chest, tears heaving from her body. âEveryoneâs in fucking Canada, or prison, or busy with a real job, or a fucking vegetable and Iâm here.â Never mind the fact she left behind her family and friends a year ago to join a cult. Regan was too far beyond self awareness and introspection, harkening back to her inner child throwing a tantrum.Â
âI had to see dad alone on my fucking birthday. He doesnât even recognize me anymore.âÂ
Fuck, was Bertieâs first thought. But he had been Reganâs big brother for twenty-four years now, and whilst that was often the first thought, it wasnât the second, or the third, or any that came after that. It had been twenty-four years of watching out for her, of always being on her side. In that moment, he felt like he had failed her by leaving.
He moved down to the floor with her, two steady hands coming to rest on two shaky shoulders. An action that was not new or foreign in the slightest. With everything going on, and now this, he knew he would feel better with Regan back in Canada with him, and with their mum. But she had always walked to the beat of her own drum. The offer was permanently there, that she had a home where he was, and she claimed it when she wanted, or needed it most. He would make sure she knew the offer was there, when this moment had passed.
For now though, he pulled her towards him, a whispered âIâm sorryâ leaving his lips. In moments like the one now, it was all he could do.