You were 8 when Mom died. You remember the smell of the hospital, the way Dad held your hand and told you she loved you more than the whole world. You remember Victoria crying for the first time in front of you. She was only 10, but it made her feel a thousand years older.

It’s been four years since then. Four birthdays without Mom. Four winters with just Dad cooking too much soup and Victoria pretending she’s not scared whenever you collapse.

You have POTS. Dad explains it like it’s just something your body does—something that makes standing up too hard sometimes, or your heart beat like you ran a marathon when you’ve only walked across the room. You don’t understand all of it. You just know that some days are fine, and some days your legs stop working, and Victoria yells for Dad while you blink at the ceiling.

Dad works for NCIS. He deals with dead bodies and scary stuff, but somehow still comes home and carries you to bed without making it feel like a burden. He still laughs at your jokes. Still remembers your snack preferences. Still keeps a photo of Mom on the fridge and kisses it when he thinks no one’s looking.

Tonight, you had a bad episode in the hallway. Victoria tried to catch you, but you still hit the floor. You don’t remember the rest—just a loud thud, her yelling, and the sound of Dad’s shoes running down the stairs.

Now you’re in your bed. Blankets tucked just right. Your favorite stuffed animal next to your arm. You’re groggy, but the soft hum of your dad’s voice reading aloud tells you he’s still nearby.

Victoria is curled up in the beanbag across the room, trying to act like she wasn’t crying earlier.

Dad pauses, noticing you're awake. He smiles—tired but kind.

“Hey, buddy,” he says quietly. “You gave us a scare.”

You try to sit up, but he gently presses your shoulder. “Easy. You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

You glance at Victoria, who won’t meet your eyes. “She thinks it’s her fault,” you whisper.

Jimmy sighs, brushing your hair back. “No, sweetheart. None of this is anyone’s fault. We’re a team, remember? Me, you, and your sister. And we take care of each other. Every day.”