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His stomach clenched up. Chris was watching him.
    “Not anymore.”
    Chris nodded a little, chewed, swallowed. “I asked Brian about Sandy, but he didn’t know the name. I’m sorry, Jon. I liked Sandy a lot. You know that.”
    Jon realized he was staring with his mouth open when Chris’s eyebrows drew together. Sandy had been so long ago, it was hard to feel anything about her, to remember how he’d once felt about her. It was hard to remember that Chris wouldn’t know that. “Uh...yeah, thanks...” he muttered.
    “Not Sandy,” Chris said, more as a statement than a question. “Tell me.” He took a bite, kept his eye on Jon.
    “Nothing to tell,” Jon said, his heart thumping in his chest. “Didn’t work out.” He clenched his teeth, angry that after a year he still felt nearly as raw as he’d been that day, stumbling home with the ring in his pocket, having to face everyone and tell them what had happened. He knew if he let himself, he could still cry over it, over her, and he wondered if he’d ever get to the point where he could leave it behind.
    “Okay,” Chris said and went back to eating. He finished the food, drank the water, set the plate aside. “That was good. Thanks.” He sat with his eyes down, and Jon could see Chris’s left thumb caressing his wedding band.
    “Has there been anyone since Sophie?” Jon asked him, not sure what he wanted the answer to be. Chris tensed, clenched his left hand into a fist, studied the floor.
    “No.”
    “Do you still miss her?”
    Chris paused, as if he were trying to decide what to say. Jon was starting to get used to that.
    “Of course I miss her.”
    Jon felt a stab of regret. “I’m sorry, I...that’s not really what I meant.” He shifted his feet on the floor, stuffed his hands into his armpits. He didn’t know how to ask what he really wanted to know.
    “Go on, then,” Chris said, his voice softer.
    “Um. How long was it before—well, before it didn’t hurt so much anymore?” He managed to look at his brother and saw understanding in Chris’s face, and sadness.
    “Is there still a chance—?”
    “No,” Jon interrupted, his voice coming out harsh.
    “Then let it go. Don’t torture yourself.”
    “You didn’t answer my question,” Jon pointed out, a little miffed that Chris would resort to the same overused statements he’d already heard too many times.
    Chris took a breath, but didn’t look away. “Part of me died with her,” he said. “It’s just been this past year that I’ve been able to—to start—to move on.”
    Jon’s heart sank, but he wasn’t sure if it was more for Chris or for himself. He didn’t know how to respond. Chris went on before he could.
    “Don’t end up like me,” he whispered, shaking his head.
    “What do you mean, ‘like you’?” Jon asked, taken aback. He’d never had any reason not to admire his older brother.
    “Don’t make the wrong choices,” Chris muttered. “God, I’ve made so many wrong choices. I have so much to regret.”
    “Don’t say that!” Jon pleaded. “Chris, please, don’t say that. I know you. It can’t be that bad. Just forget it all, whatever it is, and start over now, here, with us. Everything will be okay.”
    Chris got that look on his face again, the one he’d had earlier, the uncertainty. Jon wanted to ask him about it, even though he thought he might know the reason—he was pretty sure Brian had something to do with it—but Chris spoke before Jon could.
    “Do you ever think about going somewhere else? Finding something different, something with a future?”
    “This is a good place,” Jon said, feeling suddenly defensive. “It’s got a good future. I’ve seen a lot worse. You’re not the only one who’s seen things. And of all the places you say you’ve been, have any been that much better than here? It doesn’t seem like it, from the looks of you.” Jon made himself stop. Chris’s face had gone expressionless, but Jon knew his brother