Chapter 4
I went back to my room and started packing.
There was no point in waiting three more days.
That slap… it was the final confirmation. No one in this house wanted me here.
And if I was going to get kicked out anyway, I might as well be the one to walk away first.
I sorted through my things one by one.
Only to realize… there wasn’t much to take.
Ever since Harper moved in, things started to shift. Dad and Logan stopped buying me birthday gifts, stopped asking if I needed anything at all.
Even my allowance once reliable–had quietly vanished without a word.
At first, I thought it was temporary. That maybe they just forgot.
But as weeks turned into months, it became clear: I wasn’t part of this family anymore.
Eventually, I stopped coming home. Not because I didn’t want to but because every time I walked through that door, it felt less and less like mine
Maybe that was a good thing. Less to carry now.
My gaze landed on the framed family portrait on my desk.
Memories came rushing back, uninvited.
I remembered when Morn left for Westbridge after her marriage to Dad collapsed.
Then came the news that she’d remarried
That night, Dad cried for hours.
He held Logan and me close and said he never real
really knew how to be a good husband. That’s why he lost her.
But from now on, he swore, he’d be a great father and raise us right.
Logan had thumped his chest and said, “I’ll be the best big brother ever. I’ll protect Claire no matter what. I don’t want her to grow up and leave us like Mom did.”
And for a while… they actually meant it.
When I was little, I was sick all the time. No matter how busy Dad was, the second Logan said I had a fever, he’d drop everything and rush home.
When I was twelve, I got locked in a school bathroom by bullies.
Efter–year–old Logan stormed into their classroom and fought five guys by himself.
He ended up bloody and bruised, but be clung to the ringleader like a mad dog and didn’t let go until the kid was terrified out of his mind.
After that, everyone knew-
Claire Evans had a brother you didn’t want to mess with.
Julian was good to me, too
Whenever Dad wasn’t around, he’d take Logan and me home with him: We’d rat dinner at the Ford house, courtesy of Mrs. Ford’s cooking
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