I had tried to talk myself out of it all day. I told myself it was the trauma of the war. I told myself she was just surprised. But I knew. I had seen that flinch before.

I had seen it in the faces of people who had been hurt by someone they were supposed to trust.

Mark finally looked up. The color had drained out of his face. He looked smaller than I remembered.

“I can explain,” he whispered.

“No,” I said. The word felt like a stone. “You can’t. But you can get out of my house before I finish what I started over there.”

He took a step back, his hands raised in the air. “Jay, come on. We’re brothers.”

“Don’t,” I said. The word was sharp, a warning.

I picked up the phone. I didn’t take my eyes off him. I needed to see his face break. I needed to see him realize that the game was over.

“Sara,” I called out. My voice was steady, even though my heart was hammering against my ribs. “Come in here. Mark has something to tell us.”

I heard the floorboards creak in the hallway. Sara appeared in the doorway. She looked like a ghost. Her hair was messy, and her eyes were red and swollen. She looked from Mark to me, and then her gaze settled on the letter lying on the counter.

For the first time since I walked through that door, she didn’t flinch. She just stood there, her hands clutched in front of her. She looked exhausted. It was a kind of exhaustion that didn’t come from a lack of sleep. It was the exhaustion of carrying a secret that was eating her alive.

Mark looked at her, then back at me. He looked desperate. “Tell him,” he pleaded. “Tell him it wasn’t like that.”

Sara didn’t look at him. She kept her eyes on me. Her voice was barely a whisper.

“He said if I told you, he’d make sure you never came home,” she said.

The room went cold. I looked at the letter again. The handwriting was shaky. It was a list of apologies and threats. It was a map of everything I had missed while I was halfway across the world.

I looked at Mark. He was backing toward the door now. The bravado was gone. He looked like a coward. He looked like exactly what he was.

“Get out,” I said.

He didn’t argue. He turned and walked out the back door, leaving the screen door to bang shut behind him. I didn’t follow him. I couldn’t. I was anchored to the spot.