“Hey.” He steps aside to let me in.
I say nothing. Instead, I walk through the house and into the sitting room, which is a complete mess compared to the last time I was here.
It stinks of stale coffee and old takeout containers, and there are countless empty glasses and beer bottles littering the coffee table.
“Fun night?” My voice comes out cold and lifeless.
“Ciara—”
“I need to know if it’s true.” I turn to face my brother, who is hovering in the doorway.
He crosses his arms over his chest. “If what’s true?”
“About Da.”
Callum frowns as he looks at me. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Ronan told me some things, some sick and twisted things, and I need to know if there’s any truth to what he said.”
Callum opens his mouth, and I wait for him to ask me about the rumors Ronan is spreading about our father, but then he promptly shuts it again, and that’s when it truly hits me.
“You know…” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer right away. He just stares at me with those tired eyes and slowly nods, and that one simple movement knocks the air from my lungs.
“Oh, my god.” I stagger backward, clutching my hand to my chest. “And youknew.”
“I did.”
“S-so, it’s true?”
He dips his chin as the last of the color drains from his face, and I feel like the ground has been ripped out from under me.
“How long have you known?”
“A while.”
“Howlong?”
Callum runs a hand through his hair as he walks to the couch and perches on the arm, resting his elbows on his knees.
He keeps his eyes downcast. “Since right after Da died. Ronan told me everything a few days before the funeral.”
“Ronan toldyou?”
“He didn’t want to, but I pushed him to tell me. I knew there was more to the story… I could feel it and when he told me, I—I didn’t believe it either. At least, not at first.”
My knees buckle, and I fall into the nearest chair as I struggle to breathe.
Not only is what Ronan told me about my father true, but my own brother has known all this time and kept it from me.
My hands tremble as I rake my fingers through my hair, trying to gather my thoughts. But the overwhelming grief I feel for the man I thought my father was is all-consuming.
“You’ve known for months…” I blink past the tears. “And you let me go on and on about what a good man our father was, what a loss it is that he’s no longer around.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you.”
I let out a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob as I look up at my brother. “You didn’t know how? That’s seriously your excuse?”
