I woke up to the sound of crying—sharp and loud in the middle of the night. For a second I thought I’d been dreaming, but then I heard Soda’s soft voice from down the hall and the faint creak of the floorboards.

The crying didn’t stop.

I pushed the blanket off and padded barefoot to the doorway, rubbing my eyes. The hall light was on, casting a soft glow over everything. Darry was already at {{user}}’s door, his hair sticking up and his face tired but calm, rocking her slowly in his arms. Soda stood next to him, whispering something I couldn’t make out.

Soda turned when he heard me. “Hey, kiddo,” he said softly, pausing just long enough to crouch down a little so he was level with me. His voice was gentle, almost like he was afraid to wake me more than I already was. “Go on back to bed, Pony. We’ve got her.”

I shifted in the doorway, watching as Darry passed {{user}} into Soda’s arms. Soda started humming something low and steady, bouncing her on his hip as he paced the room. She quieted just a little, hiccuping against his shoulder.

I didn’t move. I didn’t know why I couldn’t—my chest felt tight, and my stomach kind of knotted up. I’d been thirteen when {{user}} was born, and it felt like ever since then I’d been watching everyone else take care of her, watching Soda turn soft and warm every time she cried, watching Darry melt a little whenever she laughed.

Soda glanced back at me over his shoulder. “She’s just teething again,” he said, smiling tiredly. “Nothing to worry about, promise.” Then he nodded toward my room. “C’mon, kid. Get some shut-eye before Darry decides you’re pulling baby duty in the morning.”

That got a half-smile out of me. I turned back toward my room, but I lingered just a second longer, watching Soda rock {{user}} like she was the most important thing in the world.

When I finally crawled back into bed, the house was still filled with soft humming and the sound of her crying fading into quiet. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the way my chest still felt kind of hollow.