“Okay, kiddos, let’s see how many creepy-crawlies we can find.”
Rogan grabbed one of her hands, practically dragging her toward the back door, while Reagan slowly shuffled behind them. Once they were out of sight, I took a good look at my sister. She looked beautiful, as always. Her medium-length dark hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, highlighting the light coating of makeup on her face. I’d told her time and again she didn’t need it, but she never listened. What wasn’t visible to most was glaringly obvious to me. They wouldn’t see how dull her sapphire eyes were or notice the puffiness underneath them. Someone had upset her, and I was about to find out who.
“What’s going on, Sloane?”
“The dresses are here and they’re gorgeous. I’m sorry we crashed your night.”
“I don’t give a feck about that right now. I care about you.”
I followed her into the kitchen where she picked up a glass of wine from the counter, tipped it back, and drained it. Pulling out a chair from the table, I sat and waited while she poured a second, then filled a tumbler with two fingers of whiskey from the cabinet. This was worse than I thought. Sloane wasn’t a drinker. In fact, I was the one who got plastered on her twenty-first birthday.
“We couldn’t stay with Mom any longer.”
“I’d assumed that was the case since you’re here.”
Where my mom was distant, Sloane’s was the opposite. Maeve Beckington hovered like a helicopter. She was involved in every aspect of her daughter’s and grandkids’lives. Whatever she’d done to stir up my sister enough to leave couldn’t have been good.
“She’s still in love with him.”
“Dad?”
“From what I could tell, shortly after the twins were born, they started”––she made air quotes––“hooking up. It’s been going on for years behind my back.”
“I hate to say it, but they’re consenting adults.”
“I wish that’s all it was.”
“Then tell me.”
My sister took another healthy swig of wine, then slammed the near empty glass on the counter; thankfully without breaking the stem. Sloane had a soft heart. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen her pissed. None of those held a candle to how she was right then. Fuming was an understatement.
“She knew.”
“What do you mean she knew?”
“Apparently, she was with him at his doctor’s appointment when he got the diagnosis.”
“You’re not making sense, sweetheart. Take a breath. What does all of this have to do with your fight?”
“You know how I got tested to see if I could donate one of my kidneys?”
A small part of me understood why she did it, while the rest of me was feckin’ furious.
She was a single mom, for feck’s sake. The twins needed her. So did I, for that matter. Clenching my teeth, I stowed my anger. Sloane didn’t need her overbearing brother to make an appearance. I’d save that for another time.
“What I didn’t tell you––because I knew you’d overreact––was Mom encouraged it.” She joined me at the table; placing the tumbler of whiskey on the table as she settledinto the chair next to me. Pointing to the glass, she said, “You’re gonna need that.”
My hackles were officially raised. Not only did Sloane not drink, she hated when I did. If she started cursing next, I’d rain down hell on my father. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he was somehow behind whatever had upset her so badly.
After a beat and another drink of wine, she continued, “When the results showed I wasn’t a match, I was devastated.”
“I wish you’d come to me then.” Reaching over, I laid my hand on top of hers.
“Mom was the one who bought me the DNA test. It was a few weeks later, and I stupidly thought she was trying to cheer me up. I told her how we used to joke about having another sibling out there somewhere.”
“I’m lost.”
“She knew, Finnian.” Wetness pooled in her eyes. “All this time she knew about Shannon; not her name or where she was, but she knew Dad had another kid. They both did.”
