The Brother Who Didn’t Remember
The trail led to Santa Barbara.
A small blue house near the edge of town. A garden out front, carefully tended.
Lucas knocked.
A man opened the door.
“Ryan,” Lucas breathed.
The man frowned slightly, studying his face.
“Do I know you?”
“I’m Lucas,” he said. “Your brother.”
Ryan’s eyes drifted to the tattoo on Lucas’s arm.
“That one,” he murmured. “I have the same one. I don’t remember why.”
“You have a son,” Lucas said gently. “His name is Mason.”
Ryan’s face collapsed in on itself.
“I dream about him,” he admitted. “I thought those dreams weren’t real.”
“They are,” Lucas said. “He’s real. And he’s waiting.”
Ryan sank down onto the steps, hands shaking.
“I left because I was scared,” he said. “Waking up with no memories… it felt like drowning every day.”
Lucas sat beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“You don’t have to do it alone anymore.”
For the first time in years, the silence between the brothers finally broke.
