[Meredith].
Dennis narrowed his eyes slightly. He knew exactly what I was doing.
"You don't need me," he said. "Just take my brother."
My shoulders dropped a little. His refusal was firm. Then Randall spoke.
"Dennis," he said, with a cool but persuasive voice, "You should listen to her. You haven't seen your mother in years. Use this opportunity. Take a look at her."
I glanced at Dennis. He didn't even flinch at his father's words. He lifted his glass, took a sip of water, then said flatly:
"You can't convince me otherwise."
And just like that, he returned to his breakfast as if nothing had been said at all. My chest tightened.
I understood him—truly. He didn't want to walk into that room, see a woman who didn't know him, and pretend it no longer hurt.
He didn't want hope, not even a flicker of it, because hope was the thing that disappointed him the most.
Even so, I still wished he would try.
