Lucas backed toward the door.

“I need some air.”

“Lucas, don’t you dare walk away from us,” I said.

My voice was weak from delivery, but I meant every word.

“Whatever the doctors say, she did not do anything wrong.”

He pressed his palm against the doorframe.

For one second I saw my twin brother again, the boy who used to hide behind me when our father raised his voice during arguments, the teenager who practiced job interviews with me in the bathroom mirror, the uncle who had once driven three hours because Mason had a fever and I was frightened.

Then he lowered his eyes and walked out.