A Text That Changed Everything

It started with something small. It always does. I was ten when I realized I loved Edgar West. He was fifteen, and I was Ethan’s annoying little sister—the one who always wanted to tag along. He never seemed to mind, though. He let me ride my bike beside them when they went to the park, let me listen when they talked about school and sports, let me exist in his world, even if I was just a shadow on the edges. Then, one summer afternoon, some neighborhood boy—a little older, a little meaner—thought it would be funny to knock me off my bike. He laughed when I scraped my knee, called me a crybaby when my eyes burned with tears. Before I could even process the sting of the fall, Edgar was there. He didn’t yell. He didn’t throw a punch. He just stepped between me and the other boy and said, “Not her.” Two words. That was all. The boy backed off. Edgar turned to me, crouching down, brushing the dirt off my knee. Then, with a crooked grin, he ruffled my hair and said, “Toughen up, Care. You’re cooler than this.” He doesn’t remember that day. Not really. But I do. It was the first time I ever thought: I want him to look at me like that forever. ~~~ Now, over a decade later, I still want the impossible. I sit curled up on the couch, flipping through a book I’m not actually reading, when the front door swings open. Laughter spills into the house—the easy kind that comes when two people have been friends for so long, their humor is effortless. I don’t have to look up to know it’s Ethan and Edgar. But I look anyway. And there he is. Edgar West. My heart does that stupid little flip it always does. Like it hasn’t learned its lesson after all these years. Like it still thinks it has a chance. He looks the same as he always does—tousled dark hair, an easy smile, broad shoulders that make my stomach tighten unfairly. His dark eyes flick toward me, warm but detached, the way you look at someone you see all the time but never really see. “Hey, Care.” It’s nothing. Just a casual greeting. Just my name, shortened in the way only he says it. And yet, my entire world pauses for a fraction of a second. I swallow down the ridiculous reaction and force a smile. “Hey.” He doesn’t notice my voice is a little too soft. Doesn’t notice how I grip my book a little too tightly. He just turns back to Ethan, completely unaware of how much space he takes up in my thoughts. They move into the kitchen, their voices fading as they dig through the fridge. I let out a slow breath, sinking deeper into the couch, staring at the page in front of me but seeing nothing. He’s here. He’s always here. And yet, he’s never mine. It’s stupid. So, so stupid. Because to him, I’ll always just be Ethan’s little sister. And to me? He’ll always be everything. I hear them rummaging through the fridge—the clinking of bottles, the scrape of containers being moved aside. Ethan mutters something about there never being anything good to eat, and Edgar laughs. That warm, familiar sound that makes my chest ache. I should stay here. I should keep pretending to read, let them do whatever they’re doing, and avoid setting myself up for more unnecessary heartache. But my body betrays me before my mind can catch up. I push off the couch, stretching like I don’t have an ulterior motive, and walk into the kitchen. Ethan is leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone, while Edgar stands in front of the open fridge, a water bottle in hand. He looks up as I step in. His eyes barely linger. Just a glance. Just another casual acknowledgment that makes my pulse race and leaves me feeling ridiculous. “Mom made pasta earlier,” I say, opening the fridge as if I actually care about food. “It’s in the back.” Ethan grunts in approval, reaching past Edgar to grab the container. “Lifesaver.” He pops the lid and immediately starts eating straight from it. I wrinkle my nose. “You’re disgusting.” “You love me.” He grins, mouth half-full. Unfortunately, he’s right. I step back, leaning against the counter, trying to act normal. Edgar leans beside me, taking a sip from his water. I feel the warmth of his arm, just barely brushing against mine, and my stomach tightens. This is stupid. I shouldn’t let something so small affect me. But then Ethan, in all his clueless older-brother glory, says something that makes my entire body go cold. “Man, I don’t care what you do, but if you ever hit on my sister, I’ll kill you.” My breath catches. My grip on the counter tightens. Ethan says it so casually, like it’s some unspoken rule we all already know, but the words still send a sharp pain straight through me. I force out a dry laugh, hoping no one notices how stiff I’ve gone. “Wow, thanks, Ethan. Good to know I have so many dating options.” Ethan just shrugs, completely unbothered. And Edgar— He chuckles. The same easy, unaffected chuckle that shatters me every time. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He nudges Ethan playfully. “Caroline’s basically my little sister too.” It’s a joke. It’s a throwaway comment. And it wrecks me. I keep my face neutral, but inside, something cracks. A little sister. That’s all I am. All I’ll ever be. I swallow against the lump in my throat and plaster on my best indifferent smile. “Great. Love being everyone’s honorary sibling.” Edgar doesn’t even notice my sarcasm. He just grins and bumps my shoulder lightly. “Don’t worry, Care. I’m sure some guy will be brave enough to risk Ethan’s wrath someday.” Someday. Not him. Never him. I laugh, but it feels hollow. Then I push off the counter and head back to the living room before my mask slips any further. Because if I stay, I might do something really, really stupid. Like let him see how much he just broke me.