Page 135 of Painted Truths

Not even with my best friends.

"Oh, you know. We were doing exactly what you'd imagine we were doing!"

Her squeal on the other line, alongside her next question, means all is forgiven and forgotten.

"Did your fanny fall off yet, then?"

We spend the next ten minutes laughing and bantering in the way Jo and I always have before I ask her to give my apologies to Nola, who's away on a work trip overnight, and hang up, heading straight for a hot shower.

Upon finding no clean towels in the ensuite, I slip quietly back to the hallway, intent on grabbing some fresh ones from the laundry room. On my travels, I hear Henry and Alex's quiet voices coming from the guest room, and I immediately stop, intent on their words despite knowing I shouldn't be eavesdropping.

"Ri, I—I had no idea. I knew Mum was ill; we both knew it, but Jesus Christ. She tricked our father into sleeping with her, for Christ's sake. She was obviously barmy before I even came into the picture."

"I didn't know about that until Dad told me before he died. He never told a solitary person, so how could we have known her actions were anything out of the normal. My mum died when I was so young… the memories I have are only fleeting. Lauren became my primary caregiver at the age of four, so her… unique brand of parenting was really all I knew. All either of us knew, for fuck's sake."

"Well, either way, she damn well coerced you into sleeping with her and ruined any chance you had at a normal relationship with your dad—"

"Our dad, Al. She ruined any chance of him having a relationship with either of us."

"And you just never came back. You left me with her. Alone."

I can hear the reproach in my friend's voice, the agony. It's like a wound that won't heal, and both men feel its never-ending pain.

"After I moved out or ran away—whatever you want to call it—I couldn't go back, Al. I just couldn't. The idea that you hated me after witnessing my greatest mistake…"

Henry stops abruptly to clear his throat.

"Initially, it wasn't even about you, if I’m honest. I couldn't face her. The sight of her, hell, the idea of breathing the same air as her was enough to turn my damn stomach. Eventually, with a lot of help, I began to move through my issues. But, Al, so much time had passed between us..."

Trailing off, Henry heaves a world-weary sigh.

"I just couldn't see how you'd ever forgive me. I didn't know how we could ever get back to being us. The 'us against the world' version, you know? For so long, Al, you were my whole entire world. Helping the staff to raise you… that was the only thing that got me through those dark years after my mum died and our dad all but checked out. The years where your mum used me as her whipping boy…"

My heart stops while anger churns in my chest at this new revelation. Jesus, if I didn't hate her before now, I'd be damning Lauren to the seven circles of hell for all eternity.

I'd long suspected they couldn't have had an easy time with her as their mother or pseudo mother, but hearing the words from Henry's mouth physically hurts me.

"...I was glad to spare you. Both from her ire, but also from seeing what she was capable of."

Silence permeates the room, and I slowly edge further down the hallway, not wanting to be caught snooping until Alex's low murmur stops me.

"She never treated me like that."

"And that's something I will be forever grateful for. The one good thing your mother managed to do was to ignore your existence for the most part, which is ultimately a blessing. Even though it may not have felt like one back then."

Alex huffs out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, that’s true. Eventually, once I came into my inheritance, I became an ATM to her. The years after you left were identical to the ones that had come before. She continued to live her life as she wanted, without a care for anyone outside of herself. Our father called once—around the time of my sixteenth birthday, I believe, to tell Mum that if she continued to use our surname and deny him the divorce he'd been after for so long, she had to do some philanthropic work. So that's how we started volunteering. How I met Liv. How Samuel came into our lives—and our home."

"And everything worked out how it was supposed to. We're here. Safe. Together. Starting afresh?"

I can hear the unmistakable hope in Henry's voice. Then, there's some rustling, followed by an odd pounding sound, and I can't help myself edging closer to take a peek inside the room through the slightly ajar door.

The sight that greets my eyes makes my heart fill to bursting. The brothers are standing, arms thrown around each other, alternately slapping each other on the back, in that utterly masculine and wholly useless manner the male species use to communicate happiness.

Moving backwards and down the hall, I quietly grab some fresh towels out of the dryer before making my way past the guest bedroom on silent feet. Then, finally, I can hear one of them moving, and unwilling to be caught in the act, I rush to the master bathroom.

I quickly turn on the shower and strip out of Henry’s soiled tracksuit, tossing it into the laundry hamper before moving under the warm spray and closing my eyes, allowing the heat to cascade along my whole body, removing the grime, filth, and unwanted memories of this day.

When my body is thoroughly drenched, I open my eyes to find Henry’s gaze on me, a strange look on his chiselled features.