Resilience

Sixteen

<Vince>

We hit up a no-frills sandwich shop just around the corner. Ellie keeps a low profile, letting Devon and me dominate the conversation about our jobs. She answers our questions with precision but keeps her cards close to her chest.

Even though I already know from Xavier's file, I ask, "Where do you work?"

"I'm the chef at Green Valley Nursing Home," she replies softly.

"That's impressive," I say. "You must be quite the cook. Did you go to culinary school?"

She bites her lip, a hint of nervousness showing. "No, I haven't. I've been there for five years, and the previous cook taught me everything I know. It's a good job—the boss is kind, and the benefits are solid."

Devon and Ellie are cut from the same cloth—both reserved, thoughtful, and introspective. When Devon mentions he's a painter, I notice Ellie's interest spark.

"You'll have to show me some of your work," she says, eyes lighting up with curiosity.

"You pass by it every day," I shoot back, seeing the confusion cross her face.

"In the hallway—the paintings on your floor," Devon adds, his usual confidence giving way to a rare moment of hesitation. Devon's a top-tier artist—his paintings fetch thousands, and he runs his own gallery. It's taken him years to own his talent. I can see his nerves now, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor.

When it clicks for Ellie, her face lights up like a Christmas tree. "Wow, you painted those?"

"I did them years ago," Devon admits, his voice defensive. "I was just a kid back then, so they're not my best work."

Ellie stares at him for a solid thirty seconds, absorbing the weight of what she's hearing. "You're out of your mind. Those are incredible. I can't stop looking at them every day. The colors just make me smile," she says, her enthusiasm breaking through her usual reserve.

"If I had even a fraction of that talent, I'd be shouting it from the rooftops," she adds, leaning in and extending her hand for a shake.

Devon looks puzzled but shakes her hand firmly. Ellie drops her voice to a deep, exaggerated tone, playing along. "Hi, I'm Devon, your ridiculously talented artist of a brother."

Their laughter rings out, and I can't help but smirk. I wish Damon were here to see how amazing our little sister is, but I know he'll come around in his own time.

When the laughter dies down, Ellie's tone turns serious. "You should be incredibly proud, seriously."

Devon nods, visibly moved by her words. "Give me your number, and I'll text you the address to my gallery. I'd really like your opinion on some of my newer stuff."

"Count me in," Ellie replies, handing over her number with a genuine smile.

My phone buzzes with a message from Xavier. After a week of chasing him with no reply, it's about time.

Griffin: Sorry, I was out of town on a job. Everything okay?

Vince: Everything's sorted now. What do I owe you for Ellie's apartment?

Griffin: Don't worry about it, the place was empty. They can stay as long as they need to

Vince: Thanks, I'll work on a new place for them. Shouldn't be too much longer

Griffin: Why's that?

Griffin: I thought she wanted nothing to do with you after last week.

Vince: It'll take time, but I'm working on it. Got her to agree to dinner.

I slide my phone back in my pocket as Ellie's voice pulls me back into the conversation. "What about you, Vince? Are you into painting too?"

Damon tries to stifle a laugh behind his hand, drawing both our attention until I respond.

"No, Damon's the only one with the artist gene in the family. I'm a lawyer," I say with a hint of pride.

"That explains the suits," Ellie says quietly.

I raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Every time I see you, you're in a suit... and a really nice one," she explains.

I nod, but Devon adds more detail. "He followed in Dad's footsteps. Dad was a lawyer, now retired, and Vince took over his firm. He's the top lawyer in the state."

The mention of our father makes Ellie's smile slip and her arms cross defensively. Reading people is a big part of my job, and right now, she's clearly uncomfortable.

When she glances at her phone and says it's getting late, I'm not surprised. She starts gathering her things, signaling it's time to head out. Devon looks like he wants to argue for more time, but I give him a subtle shake of the head.

Tonight was a solid start.

"Why didn't we invite Ellie to the family brunch?" Devon asks, cramming a forkful of pancakes into his mouth.

"I didn't want to overwhelm her," I reply, keeping my tone steady. "Last night was a solid start."

Devon nods, acknowledging the point. "Yeah, she does seem a bit hesitant and untrusting."

Damon rolls his eyes. "She's all you've talked about this morning," he grumbles, reaching over to snatch a strip of bacon from Devon's plate.

"Damon, cut it out," I snap, irritation edging my voice. "She's our sister. We"—I gesture between the three of us—"take care of our own. Think about it. Imagine if you didn't have me or Devon when Dad checked out. He chose the bottom of a bottle over being a father. Ellie's been alone for years."

"She can't have been that alone; she was a teen mom," Damon shoots back crudely.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Devon and I erupt simultaneously. I slam my hand on the table, making it rattle and drawing the eyes of the entire restaurant.

I lower my voice, seething with controlled anger. "That's enough," I growl through clenched teeth. I pull out the file I've been carrying and slam it down on the table between us. I hope I'm not about to regret this move.

"Damon, you should know me better. I've always put family first. That's what being a big brother is about," I say, letting the weight of my words settle. I see the shift in Devon's expression, the understanding starting to sink in. Damon's always been the dark, stubborn counterpoint to Devon's light.

"I had Xavier look into her weeks ago," I continue, staring hard at Damon. "Take a look and see what she's been through, what Dad left her with. See the reality of her life without anyone looking out for her." I hold his gaze, watching as he hesitates before finally reaching for the file.