Nina found Austin sleeping on the couch one afternoon. He was supposed to be picking her up for their weekly lunch, but he'd texted that he needed to rest for an hour.
She'd let herself in using the key Austin had given all his family members for emergencies. And she'd found him unconscious on the couch, one hand hanging off the edge, his breathing shallow.
For a terrifying moment, she thought he was dead.
She shook him gently, and he woke up confused, disoriented.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing," he said. "Just tired."
"You're lying," Nina said. "Adults lie when they're scared. Are you scared?"
Austin looked at his fourteen-year-old sister, and he thought about how young she was, how much life she had ahead of her, how little she deserved to carry this knowledge.
"Yes," he said finally. "I'm scared."
"Of what?" Nina asked.
"Of things I can't control," Austin said.
Nina sat down next to him on the couch. "You know, most of the things I'm scared of turn out to be less scary when I actually talk about them. Maybe you could try that."
"Maybe," Austin said. But he knew he wouldn't.