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and taps my forehead
     gently. “Behind that brain of yours is a good heart, Junebug. I see it every day.”
    I don’t know why his words bring a lump up in my throat, but suddenly I’m fighting
     it down and trying my best not to cry. When Metias sees my face, he shakes his head.
     “Come here, kid.” I scoot over to him and snuggle underneath his arm. We sit quietly
     with our mugs of hot chocolate, savoring the peace of the night.
    Poor Metias. He’s not supposed to be a father. He’s supposed to be out on his own,
     independent and free to concentrate on his job as a young captain. But
somebody
has to take care of me, and I make his life so much harder than it needs to be. I
     wonder what things must have been like for him back when our parents were still alive,
     when I was a toddler and Metias was a teenager and he could focus on growing up instead
     of helping someone else grow up. Still, Metias hasn’t complained once. Not a single
     time. And even though I wish our parents were here, sometimes I’m really happy that
     this is our little family unit, just me and my brother, each watching out for no one
     but the other. We do the best we can.
    “Everything good about me, I learned from you,” I whisper.
    “You’re giving me too much credit. We got it from our parents.” Metias chuckles a
     little. It’s a sad sound. There’s another long, ten-second pause before he goes on.
     “You’ll find your tribe,” he says. “We all do. Someday, someone out there will see
     you for the girl you really are. Someday, you’ll find someone who understands you.”
    I take another sip of hot chocolate. “Well, I hope that happens sooner rather than
     later. But it doesn’t really matter.” I finally smile at my brother. “At least
you
understand me.”
    He raises an eyebrow again. “Sometimes.”
    I laugh a little, and at least for tonight, everything is okay again.