I loved her for it.

And Ethan was always there too.

Every appointment.

Every scan.

And every single time I needed blood drawn, my brother held my hand — because he knew, as only a twin can know, that I have been terrified of needles since we were small children, since a bad experience we both still remember from when we were six.

He never mentioned why he was holding my hand.

He just held it, every time, his thumb moving over my knuckles the way it had when we were kids, and I looked away from the needle and at my brother’s face instead, and it was easier.