Page 61 of The Art of Drowning

I didn’t unfold the paper right away because I wouldn't be able to erase what I was about to read and I didn’t think, after all this time, that Sam would’ve offered me some kind of closure.

The pages shook when I carefully unfolded them.

I hadn’t expected closure, but I hadn’t expected him to drop a bomb on my whole existence.

There was no note. No final goodbye. Not even so much as a fuck you, Callum.

The truth was right there in front of me, but it seemed like a lie. Like a horrible joke he’d decided to play on me from beyond the grave. It didn’t even make sense, but it was right there in black and white.

Sam wasn’t my brother.

Sam’s parents were my parents, but they weren’t my parents.

I wasn’t… oh, God…

The world tilted and I braced my elbows on my knees, staring at the paper in disbelief.

I wasn’t related to my own family.

Who was I?

And then another question popped into my head. Had Damien known?

Nausea made me clamp my lips shut and breathe raggedly through my nose as I tried desperately to hold it together.

It had to be fake.

Right?

THIRTY

damien

NOW

After almost a week of ignored texts and calls that went unanswered and unreturned, I almost didn’t answer when Callum called. But I was a sucker and I was weak, and Bowie was going to kill me if I let Callum off the hook for ghosting me. I answered the call with every intention of calling him on his bullshit, but the voice that greeted me was tight and frantic and not at all okay.

“Did you know?” Callum asked. He was nearly hyperventilating. “Did you know?”

He sounded broken, and any bad feelings I might have had about him ghosting me went out the window. Somehow, some way, this had something to do with Sam.

“Did I know what? You’re going to have to give me a little more to go on.” I was already on my feet and heading for the door. I stuffed my feet in my shoes and grabbed my keys. Whether he wanted me there or not, I was going to him.

“Did you open your envelope? What’s inside?”

“I haven’t.” Cold dread washed through me. “Callum, what was in your envelope?”

My heart slammed against my ribcage like it was trying to escape. The keys shook in my hand, but I managed to get the fob to unlock my car for me.

He’d gone quiet except for his heavy, irregular breathing.

“Callum, listen to me. Deep breath. Okay? Follow my count. Deep breath. One. Two. Three. Four. Hold it.” I counted him through a couple more rounds of box breathing until he sounded steadier.

“He… the envelope. There wasn’t a note, Damien. Not even an explanation. God, he was such an asshole.” Anger surged through Callum’s voice, hardening it.

“Callum, what happened?” I wanted to go to him, but it would take a couple hours to get there and yet I couldn’t make myself start the car yet. Not until he told me what the fuck he was talking about.

“I opened the envelope.”