CHAPTER 72: YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN OURS

Linda walked through the hospital corridors with careful steps, her hand trailing along the wall as if she needed the solid surface to keep her steady.

Each footfall echoed softly against polished floors that reflected the afternoon light streaming through tall windows.

She kept seeing fragments of the morning: Nina’s pale face against white pillows at St. Mary’s, the way the doctor had avoided her eyes when he said "there’s nothing more we can do here."

The drive between hospitals afterward, David’s knuckles white on the steering wheel while she made call after call from the passenger seat.

The polite but firm voices saying "we’ll need to see your insurance information first" before doors closed one by one.

Her chest felt tight with the memory of coming home that final time, Nina too weak to walk upstairs alone, asking in that small voice why the doctors kept sending them away.

The parking garage felt cooler than the hospital corridors. Linda walked beside Alex, her steps slowing as they reached his car.

She stopped by the passenger door, resting her palm flat against the cool metal roof, her gaze fixed on the concrete floor instead of moving to get in.

The silence between them stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable... just filled with everything neither of them had said yet

"This morning," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I kept thinking about what I would tell Danny if..." She stopped, unable to finish.

Alex waited, sensing the weight of words she was trying to find.

"At St. Mary’s, after the doctor said they couldn’t help us anymore, I went to the bathroom and just sat there for ten minutes. I couldn’t stop shaking." Linda’s fingers traced a pattern on the car’s surface.

"I kept thinking about all the things I should have done differently. Should have caught it sooner. Should have pushed harder with the pediatrician. Should have had better insurance."

She looked up at Alex then, and he could see the exact moment when everything she’d been holding back began to surface.

"And now she’s in there, comfortable, with doctors who actually know what they’re doing." The first tears slipped down her cheeks. "Because of you."

Without thinking, Linda reached for him, her arms coming around his shoulders in a fierce embrace that spoke of drowning and finding solid ground.

"I kept thinking this couldn’t be real," she whispered against his shoulder. "That someone would come tell us there had been a mistake, that we’d have to leave."

Alex felt his throat tighten as he held her. This woman who had set an extra place at dinner when he was seventeen and had nowhere else to go on weekends.

Who had helped him fill out college applications at her kitchen table. Who had never once made him feel like he was asking for too much.

The tears came before he could stop them. "You don’t have to thank me," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "... aren’t I family too?"

The question hung in the air between them. Alex pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, suddenly uncertain. "Aren’t I Nina’s big brother too?"

Linda’s face crumpled, but her smile was radiant through the tears. "Oh, baby," she breathed, cupping his face in her hands. "Of course you are. Of course you’re family."

"When I was just a kid," Alex continued, his voice breaking as the words fought their way out.

"I lived in this group home where they’d tell us not to get too attached to anything because nothing was permanent. The older kids would warn the new ones... don’t expect birthday parties, don’t expect anyone to remember your name after you leave, don’t expect anyone to care if you don’t come back one day."

His hands shook as Linda held them. "I used to watch other kids at school get picked up by their parents, and I’d wonder what that felt like. To have someone waiting for you. To have someone who’d notice if you were late, who’d worry if you didn’t call."

The tears came harder now, years of buried loneliness surfacing. "At the group home, if you got sick, they’d give you medicine and send you to your room. If you had a nightmare, you learned to be quiet about it because disturbing others meant consequences. If you did well in school, maybe a counselor would nod and make a note in your file, but that was it."

Alex looked up at Linda, his eyes red with tears. "Then I met Danny. This kid who actually listened when I talked, who didn’t look at me like I was broken or something to be pitied. When he found out I spent most weekends at the library because the group home was..."

He swallowed hard. "When he found out I had nowhere to go, he just said ’come home with me.’"

"Just like that. Like it was the most natural thing in the world."

Linda stroked his hair, tears streaming down her own face as she listened.

"And then I walked into your house," Alex whispered, "and you didn’t ask questions about why this strange kid was following your son home. You just set another plate at the table. You asked me about school, about what I liked to read. You made me feel like... like I was someone worth knowing."

His voice cracked completely. "The first time you asked me to stay for dinner, I thought it was charity. But then you started remembering things... that I liked my eggs scrambled, that I had a math test on Tuesday, that I was worried about my college applications. You remembered me."

Alex pressed his face against Linda’s shoulder, the words muffled but desperate.

"For seventeen years, I thought family was just something other people had. Something I’d never understand. But you taught me that love isn’t about sharing blood... it’s about choosing to care, day after day, even when it’s hard."

He pulled back to meet her eyes. "You chose me. You all chose me. And today, when Nina needed help, there wasn’t even a question. She’s my little sister. You’re my mother. This is my family."

Linda’s face was wet with tears as she cupped his face in both hands. "Oh, my sweet boy. My son. You were never charity. From the moment Danny brought you through that door, you were ours. You’ve always been ours."

"I know what it’s like to feel invisible," Alex whispered. "To wonder if anyone would notice if you just disappeared. I couldn’t let Nina feel that way. I couldn’t let any of you think you were alone in this."

In the quiet of the parking garage, they held each other through the weight of words that had taken years to find, the simple truth that sometimes the most important families are built not from blood, but from the choice to love someone as they are, exactly where they are.

His voice cracked completely. "So of course I had to help her. She’s my little sister."

Linda pulled him close again, holding him like she had when he was younger and the world felt too big and uncertain. "Yes," she whispered fiercely. "Yes, you’re my son. You’ve been my son since the day Danny brought you through our front door. And today you saved your sister."

She pressed a kiss to his forehead, the same way she had on graduation day, on his birthday, on all the quiet moments when he’d needed to know he belonged somewhere.

"My sweet boy," she murmured. "My son."

They stood there for a few more moments, both of them wiping their faces and trying to pull themselves together.

Linda’s legs still felt shaky from everything - the emotional release, the relief, the weight of finally saying all those words out loud.

"Come on," Alex said gently, reaching for the passenger door handle. "Let me get you home."

As he opened the door for her, Linda paused. "You know, I haven’t felt this... light in weeks. Like I can finally breathe again."

Alex helped steady her as she got into the car, his hand on her elbow. Such a simple gesture, but it felt different now.

Not just polite... protective.

Like he’d always done for Nina when she was little and needed help getting into their old SUV.

"Careful," he said softly, making sure she was settled before closing the door.

Walking around to the driver’s side, Alex felt something shift in his chest.

The weight he’d been carrying for so long - that constant uncertainty about where he belonged, whether he was truly wanted - had lifted.

He wasn’t Danny’s friend who hung around too much anymore. He wasn’t the charity case who needed looking after.

He was Linda’s son. Nina’s big brother. Family.

Linda reached over and squeezed his hand on the gear shift. "I’m so proud of you," she said quietly.

"Not just for today, but for the man you’ve become. David is also proud of you, even if he doesn’t show it much."