Redhawk Caldera We don't laugh anymore

When the yearling stopped and turned to respond, Peregrine's heart leaped into his throat. He was so keyed up about it that his brain blanked initially, though soon he was blurting out answers between steadying breaths. "For upsetting you." Deep breath. "For not getting to tell you what an amazing sitter and big brother I think you are." Another deep breath. That one was partly Finley's fault too. "Mostly, for not being there to save Peter," and avoid this entire emotional mess. This time, his breath gusted raggedly from his chest.

After gauging Eljay's expression and body language, Peregrine took a tentative step forward, then shot his nephew a look as if to ask if it was okay to keep coming closer. He hated this distance—both actual and figurative—that had sprung up between them. He badly wanted to make things right, or as right as possible considering the grief that formed the core of the issue between them.