Chapter 2

I kept holding my phone after the call ended.

When the Sterlings found me several months earlier, I had rejected every offer they made. Ryan and I had once promised that if either of us found a biological family, we would never abandon the other. I had treated that promise as the foundation of our lives.

My biological parents never pressured me to return or revealed my identity. Once they learned how much Ryan meant to me, they quietly introduced him to investors and connected Vivian’s research team with several institutions. Some of the funding sustaining LumenWorks’ latest clinical program had come through the Sterlings.

I had told Ryan and Vivian none of it.

Now every unsigned commitment would disappear.

Vivian did not visit during the following week. Ryan came every day, rotating between beef stew, roast chicken, soup, and carefully prepared salads. I barely touched any of it.

When we were younger, we had split cold sandwiches from a shelter without complaint. Looking at the expensive meals he brought now, I could not make myself eat.

On the day I was discharged, I planned to move into a short-term rental near the hospital. Ryan put my bag in his car before I could arrange it.

“You just got out of the hospital,” he said. “You shouldn’t be alone. Stay with me until you’re stronger.”

I did not argue.

He drove to Riverside Tower, one of the city’s most expensive residential buildings. Its upper floors overlooked the entire riverfront, and buying a home there had become a favorite symbol of success among young technology founders.

Ryan led me into the elevator and used a private key card for the top floor.

“Viv bought the place the day LumenWorks went public,” he said, unable to hide his satisfaction. “The title is in my name. She said we finally had a home of our own.”

The day LumenWorks went public was also the day Vivian proposed to me.

She had said that after seven years together, we had survived the hardest part and deserved a real home.

Apparently, she had promised a future to two men on the same day.

I knew the apartment well even though I had never entered it. Two years earlier, Vivian and I had attended a business reception in the hotel downstairs. As we left, she pointed toward the illuminated penthouse and promised she would buy a place there someday. She talked about running beside the river with me in the mornings, cooking together on weekends, and getting a dog once our work became less demanding.

I had remembered every word and waited for her to fulfill that promise.

She had fulfilled it. Ryan had simply taken my place.

When the elevator opened, Vivian was waiting in the entryway. She wore a soft sweater, and a pair of Ryan’s house shoes rested near her feet. She looked as though she had lived there for years.

“Caleb, welcome home.”

The words came easily, as if there were nothing strange about bringing me into the home she shared with my closest friend.

I remained inside the elevator. After meeting my eyes, Vivian looked away and took the travel bag containing my medication and clothes.

Ryan guided me down the hall. “I saved a room for you.”

The guest room had a firm mattress like the one I preferred, an adjustable reading lamp beside the desk, and new clothes in my size. Vivian pointed to a box containing my medication and follow-up papers.

“Ryan said you’re brothers,” she explained. “He wanted you to have a room in his home whenever you needed it.”

“Viv arranged everything herself,” Ryan added, resting an arm across my shoulders. “I always told her that wherever I lived, there would be a place for you.”

I had once said the same thing about him.

When Vivian and I first discussed buying a home, I suggested keeping a guest room for Ryan. He had no stable relationship, and I wanted him to know he could stay with us whenever he was sick or in trouble.

Vivian refused. She said Ryan would eventually build his own life and did not need me arranging it forever. I had assumed she resented how much time I gave him.

Now I understood. She had already planned to give him a home herself.

As Ryan’s guest, I was welcome to take whatever room remained.

I stepped away from his arm and faced Vivian. “Thank you. Without Ryan, I doubt I would ever have been invited into a place like this.”

She paused, unsettled by my formal tone, then said, “Dinner is ready.”

The table held roast beef, vegetable soup, and several side dishes. The moment Ryan sat down, Vivian cut his beef and moved his favorite sauce within reach. He wrapped an arm around her waist while she leaned close and offered him a taste of the soup she had just seasoned.

Their movements carried the ease of a routine repeated countless times.

In the past, they had never made it through a meal without arguing. Ryan accused Vivian of being too particular, and she said he provoked people for entertainment. Without me mediating, they could barely remain at the same table.

Apparently, those arguments had been reserved for the occasions when I was watching.

I looked down and speared a roasted vegetable covered in sauce. Before I could lift it to my mouth, someone caught my wrist.

“Caleb, what are you doing?”

Vivian had nearly risen from her chair. Her fingers tightened around my wrist as she stared at my fork.

“That sauce contains peanuts. You’re severely allergic to peanuts.”