Chapter 2 - The Key Nobody Asked For
Over the next several days, Mom started sending messages — articles about siblings supporting each other, quotes about family loyalty, a story about how proud our grandparents would be if I "stepped up" for Ryan. At one point she sent an old photo of Ryan around age four, dressed as a dinosaur, captioned: Remember when you always protected your little brother?
I almost replied, Yeah, then he learned how to talk. I didn't.
Dad started calling too. Every conversation ended the same way — "it's your duty," "we didn't raise you to be selfish."
Then Friday happened.
I got home from work and opened the fridge. Two grocery bags sat inside that I hadn't bought, both labeled RYAN in thick black marker.
I called Mom immediately. "Quick question — did someone break into my house, or did you give Ryan my spare key?"
She said it like I'd asked whether she'd watered a plant. "Oh, that. Yes, I gave it to him. He needed to start bringing his things over before he moves in."
"Moving in? We never agreed to that."
"Derek, don't be dramatic. You have two empty bedrooms. You'll barely notice him."
I laughed, disbelieving. "You think I wouldn't notice a twenty-five-year-old living in my house?"
"He's your brother. This is what family does."
"You know what else family does? Asks permission before handing out keys to someone else's home."
That night, I called a locksmith and changed every exterior lock.
The next morning, Ryan showed up on my porch with a duffel bag over his shoulder. His key didn't turn. He tried again. Then he pounded on the door.
I opened it, arms crossed. "Morning."
"What's wrong with you? You seriously changed the locks?"
"Yep."
"You're unbelievable."
"Thank you."
He glared. "Mom and Dad said I could move in."
"Interesting. Ask them which bedroom they own." I leaned against the frame. "Because it's not this one."
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He stormed off, muttering something about me being selfish. I actually thought that had settled it.
I was wrong.
