After a while, Ethan wasn't just my brother's best friend anymore — he was everywhere. Family dinners, birthday parties, even those lazy Sunday afternoons when the whole world seemed to slow down. Wherever we went, he was there, like a shadow that never left.
He never treated me like "just the little sister." At family barbecues, he'd pull me into conversations, making me feel seen even when I barely knew what to say. At birthday parties, he was the first to grab my hand for a silly dance or to shield me from the teasing kids.
One summer evening, I remember we went to the lake with the whole family. Ethan challenged Jamie and me to a race across the dock. I was sure I'd lose, but Ethan cheered me on like I was the fastest girl in the world. When I slipped and nearly fell in the water, he caught me just in time — his laugh echoing as he pulled me back.
Those little moments started to mean more than I realized. Like the time he brought me my favorite chocolate ice cream just because I'd had a bad day at school, or when he stayed up late watching cartoons with me even though he had to wake up early the next day.
To everyone else, he was just the fun, loud kid who never seemed to sit still. But to me, he was the one constant — the one who made me feel safe, seen, and somehow, at home.