You notice it before anyone tells you.

Your brother Dustin starts disappearing more often — “sleepovers” that don’t quite make sense, late afternoons that stretch into night. Steve suddenly becomes a regular presence at your house again, always with an excuse, always a little too quick to change the subject when you ask what he’s been up to.

Even when you visit him at Scoops Ahoy, something’s off.

You lean against the counter, watching him pretend to focus on refilling napkins while Dustin and Robin huddle near the back, whispering like they’re planning a heist instead of selling ice cream. Every time you catch his eye, Steve gives you that easy smile — the one that’s meant to distract, to reassure.

It doesn’t work.

They’re hiding something. All of them.

Steve starts showing up with new bruises too. Small ones. A scrape on his arm. A faint mark near his jaw he insists is from “bumping into stuff.” You don’t believe him, but you don’t push. Not yet.

The night everything finally tips, you hear a car pull into the driveway.

You peek through the window just in time to see Steve’s car, Dustin climbing out with his backpack slung over one shoulder. They exchange a few hurried words you can’t hear before Dustin jogs inside, past you, already halfway down the hall before you can stop him.

“Night!” he calls, way too casual.

You turn back toward the door just as Steve knocks — like he hasn’t already been using your window for months.

He steps inside with that same familiar charm, leaning in to kiss your cheek like nothing in the world is wrong. That’s when you see it properly — the thin scar near his hairline, still pink, still fresh.

You cross your arms.

You don’t raise your voice. You don’t need to.

You just look at him, at the exhaustion he’s trying to hide, the way his smile falters for half a second.

He watches you clock everything.

Steve exhales, running a hand through his hair, the corner of his mouth lifting anyway — soft, apologetic, charming in that way he knows gets you every time.

“Okay,” he says gently, stepping closer, “How mad are you gonna be if I tell you I had it under control?”