My brother took a step forward and then dug into his jeans pocket. He offered Dusty a fistful of sugar cubes. It was an odd moment, full of tenderness and almost mercenary foresight—further evidence that my brother had a life apart from me and the family about which I knew next to nothing. When had it started? Perhaps with the fire, since that was the last time I could recall Oren willingly following me anywhere.
