“Ma’am, there’s been an accident. Your parents. I’m so sorry.”
I sat down on the floor because my legs stopped working.
Elliot was on the couch, watching something on his phone.
He looked up slowly and frowned.
“The twins,” I whispered. “Where are my brothers?”
My legs stopped working.
“They’re at the hospital. They were also in the accident but they’re alive. They’re being worked on right now.”
I do not remember the drive to the hospital.
I remember Elliot’s hand on my knee at a red light.
The way he cleared his throat before speaking.
“Whatever happens,” he said, “we’ll get through this. Together.”
“They were also in the accident.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
The twins survived.
Bruised, stitched, terrified, but alive.
When the social worker sat me down in a small beige room and asked about guardianship, I did not need a single second to think.
“You promise?”
“I’m their sister,” I told her. “They’re coming home with me.”
She nodded and slid the paperwork across the table.
My hand shook as I signed, but I signed every line.
Elliot was in the hallway when I came out.
He was scrolling through his phone.
He glanced up and gave me a hug.
“They’re coming home with me.”
“That was fast,” he said.
“They needed me to sign now.”
“Right. Of course.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “So… What does this do to the wedding schedule?”
I stared at him.
“Elliot, my parents just died.”
