It was the arrogance. The absolute certainty that he could walk in, plant a flag, and claim something that wasn’t his just because he believed he deserved it.
“You’re sleeping in the master bedroom, aren’t you?” I asked him.
Nathan leaned against the kitchen counter and sipped his beer.
“We moved in when they started having trouble getting around. It just made sense.”
“Really? Because last I checked, Dad was sleeping on an air mattress in the garage.”
That got a few shocked gas from the crowd.
Amelia’s lips parted, but nothing came out.
Nathan didn’t miss a beat.
“Dad likes the garage. Says it’s cooler out there.”
I stared at him.
“You kicked our parents out of their own bedroom.”
“We didn’t kick them out,” Amelia said quickly, her voice shaking a little. “They offered. I mean, Spencer, they said it was fine.”
“They said it was fine,” I repeated slowly. “Because you made them feel like guests in their own home.”
“No one made them feel like anything,” Nathan snapped. “If they wanted to speak up, they would have, but they didn’t. So maybe you should think about why that is before you come in here like some night in shining armor.”
I didn’t answer him.
Not right away.
Because part of me knew he was right.
Mom and dad hadn’t spoken up.
But not because they were okay with it. Because they didn’t want to start a war. Because they didn’t know how.
Because after a lifetime of enabling Nathan’s behavior, they didn’t believe anyone would take their side.
Not even me.
And the thing that stung most?
They might have been right.
I walked out of the room without another word.
I found mom still in the laundry room, now folding towels with the kind of mechanical care that made my chest ache.
“Spencer,” she whispered when she saw me.
“I need the truth, Mom,” I said, kneeling beside her. “Are you okay? Really?”
She looked at me for a long moment, her hand stilt.
Then she closed her eyes and took a shaky breath.
“Your father wanted to sleep in the garage. Said it didn’t matter where he laid his head as long as we had peace.”
“And you?” I asked. “Where do you sleep?”
She hesitated.
“In the guest room, sometimes the couch if Amelia has friends over.”
My throat tightened.
“They treat you like visitors in your own house.”
She didn’t answer that. She just folded the towel and set it in the basket like she hadn’t heard me, but she had.
I could see it in the way her shoulders curved inward like she was trying to make herself smaller.
I stood and paced.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“We didn’t want to cause trouble,” she said softly. “Your brother, he’s struggling, Spencer.”
“With what? Lack of shame.”
She gave me a look. Sharp and tired all at once.
“He’s got a family now. Amelia is trying to start her own business. They’ve been under pressure. We thought if we let them stay for a little while.”
“They’ve moved in, Mom. They’ve taken over. They’re telling people this is their house.”
She flinched at that just slightly.
“We didn’t want to disappoint you.”
“Disappoint me?” I repeated, voice breaking a little. “You think I’d be disappointed in you for being kind, for letting your son bulldoze over your boundaries because you didn’t want to start a fight?”
She smiled sad and tired.
“You’ve always been the one who sees clearly, Spencer. Even when you were little, but not everything’s that simple.”
Maybe it wasn’t, but it also wasn’t supposed to be this hard.
I hugged her then tightly and whispered that I’d handle it, that she didn’t have to live like this, that it wasn’t fair.
She didn’t say anything.
She just rested her cheek against my shoulder like she’d been waiting for someone to tell her that for a long, long time.
Later that evening, I didn’t go home.