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  "Sorry," I mumble and keep my gaze firmly latched ahead of me. Seeing his expression right now is something I can live without.

  The only response I get is a deep, heavy sigh.

  Even though I've ruined whatever understanding we just gained, I still need to clarify where we stand.

  "Jack?"

  His head shifts just enough to let me know he's listening.

  "Do you think you could keep this just between us? I just...I don't think it's a good idea to tell anyone we know just yet. I don't know what my—what the mayor would do if he knew. And we'll be able to keep digging if he doesn't suspect anything."

  Jack nods quickly and squints at me a little, trying to figure me out. "So you still want to keep trying?"

  My gaze snaps to him and I look him right in the eye. "Yes. I told you when we first started all this that all I want is to get Sean out of prison and that hasn't changed. Especially now that I know he's..."

  The words are stuck in my throat, sticking to me like honey. He's my brother. Sean is my brother.

  That's it. That's all it takes. Tears prick my eyes and my jaw trembles from the effort of keeping it all at bay. Maybe there is a silver lining here after all. Today, I've finally learned Valentino Moretti doesn't have any hold over me. Today, I've gained a brother. Two brothers, actually—Brennan and Sean.

  In this case, blood does matter. Blood has changed everything.

  A lone tear slips down my cheek and I wipe it away just as quickly before I finally let myself look at Jack again. He's watching me carefully, meticulously scrutinizing my every movement for some sign of falseness, but he isn't going to find it. Then the expression shifts and his mouth twists a little when he looks down at his hands again.

  "Good," he tells me quietly. "I'm glad you're not giving up. I don't wanna give up."

  "Neither do I," I whisper. "Do you think it'd be alright if I visited Sean again tomorrow? I really want to see him."

  He doesn't hesitate and nods tightly. "I'm sure Sean would be pretty happy to see you again."

  And maybe he'd finally give us some concrete answers this time, too.

  I LET BENNETT and Jack bring me back to my apartment, but that's as far as they get. Bennett, of course, wants to come in and finagle his way into spending the night to make sure I don't do something stupid, like drink three bottles of wine in one sitting. That's not going to happen because I don't need a babysitter and because through the years, I've actually learned a little bit of self-control.

  So he stomps his foot a little when I won't let him inside, but the second Freya saunters up to the door, Bennett's lips curl up in horror. Freya doesn't waste a second and goes into uber-defense mode, every side of her mouth pulled back in a formidable hiss for such a small thing. Bennett hisses right back at her then hightails it back to his car where Jack sits, watching the whole scene with a mixed expression of amusement and confusion. There's some pointing and Bennett mouths, "That cat is nuts", before the little Prius finally takes its leave from the parking lot.

  I glance at my cat and reach down to run my fingers over the silky black fur on her head. She sits up on her hind legs to give me better access, purring away like a kitten.

  "You're not nuts," I murmur to her and scoop her up in my arms so I can close the door. "Benn's just a drama queen. One of these days you two are going to have to figure your shit out though."

  I pad along to my bathroom as Freya nuzzles the bottom of my chin and I set her down right next to the sink, where I know she'll stay until I leave. She's standing guard now, on high alert as I run the water in the tub.

  "Don't worry, baby," I tell her softly. "Mommy's not throwing you in the tub."

  That seems to relax her and her yellow eyes glow perceptively. She knows something's up because the only time I take baths are when I need to decompress or when I've had an intensely trying day. This particular day falls into both of those categories. So when I sink into the warm, vanilla-scented bubbles, my eyes close and I finally let it all wash over me.

  I see my selfish mother with a bottle of pills in her hand. I see her waiting for a letter that will never come. I see my spineless father making the conscious decision to forget my mother's existence, and then mine. I see the mayor, furious, hateful, and resentful, purposefully neglecting me at every opportunity. I see Sean, my brother...God, my brother, sitting in a prison cell, a victim of circumstance just as much as me. And finally, I see myself, spending years wading through confusion and loneliness, searching for some sort of belonging that I'd never find, but never knew why.

  Then I sink below the water's surface and scream.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Jack

  Rae is on edge as we sit here waiting for that metal door to open. Her legs are jumping a mile a minute underneath the table and her gaze is locked on that door, almost as if she's willing it to open or something. I have half a mind to touch her right now, if only to just help her calm the hell down, but I have a feeling I'm likely to do more harm than good.

  Like I would know the first thing about how to calm her down anyway.

  She wouldn't let me drive her here, so that speaks pretty well to how complicated this has all become in such a short time. Both of us need some distance, but it's going to be awhile until we actually get it.

  When that heavy door finally opens and Sean's grim, weary face peeks through the rest of the inmates piling in for Sunday visiting hours, Rae bursts up from her seat so she can pull Sean into a tight, frenzied embrace. His eyes meet mine from over Rae's auburn head and I nod to him. They shut for a brief moment and when they flit open again, they're filled with quiet acceptance.

  I don't know what to do other than to run a nervous hand over my head and wait until a guard inevitably steps up to separate them.

  "Sorry," Rae mumbles to the guard, who just lifts a shoulder as he walks away.

  Sean falls into the seat across from us as we take our seats again at the table and he folds his hands in front of him.

  "Well," he grins and then shakes his head. "I guess the cat's out of the bag, huh?"

  I make the mistake of glancing at Rae. Her pretty face twists violently and her eyes well up with fresh tears—I don't like it, but I don't know what to do about it either. The last 24 hours have completely warped my brain and I'm lucky I even know which way is up.

  "Sean," Rae whispers. "I'm so-"

  "Don't apologize," he interrupts gently. "You haven't done anything wrong."

  "But—"

  "When I tell you it wasn't your fault, you need to believe me."

  The fierce, determined look on his face is one I know well—I've already seen it a hundred times over in Rae. And, I suppose, in my dad, too. I just never knew how to put all that together until now.

  Rae sucks in a harsh breath next to me and we both know what's coming next.

  "Rae," Sean tells her in a quiet, yet firm voice. "It wasn't your fault."

  A lone tear slips down her cheek, but she wipes it away before it gets too far. That's one thing I've learned about her over these last few weeks: she hates letting other people see her cry. One tear is about all anyone can ever get from her.

  "Okay," she whispers.

  She slumps back in her chair and she pushes out a deep sigh. Like the weight of all this has finally begun to lift. There's still a ways to go and I figure, this is as good a time as any to butt my way in.

  "How did you know, Sean?"

  My brother's eyes flicker to me, his sister, and then back to me again before he finally answers. "It was an accident. Can't imagine it was all that different from the way you figured it out, too."

  Rae nods tightly from her seat and I lean my elbows on the table, gearing up for the inevitable. This will be two times now in less than a full day that I'm about to hear a story I know I won't like, but just like the last time, there's no running away from this. No pretending like it never happened. Just the thought has something dark and ugly twisting inside me, desperate to break o
ut and punch through the nearest wall I can find. The monster wants to be unleashed yet again, but there isn't a ring in sight.

  "I found some postcards in my...in the mayor's desk," Rae explains just barely above a whisper. She hasn't referred to Val Moretti as her dad since before all my suspicions were confirmed. It's an easy, tried and true defense mechanism that seems to be working for her. "Apparently, Father Lindsay set up a PO box for them so they could exchange these postcards and meet up in the library."

  Sean's lips curl up into a bitter smirk. "That sounds about right. Me? I figured it out almost ten years ago now."

  That little admission has me leaning forward so fast I almost knock the table over. "Ten years? What the hell?"

  Rae and Sean share a look, one that can only be measured from the betrayal they both have to feel. It's one I can't share. One I can't ruminate on for too long. The end result isn't one I want to think about.

  "It doesn't matter now, does it?" he tells me tightly. His eyes, normally so open and warm, have gone cold and hard. I don't recognize this side of my brother—it's a side I never knew existed and I wish I didn't.

  Everything is about to change now and I don't know how to stop it. The speeding train is headed right for me, blaring its horn and charging at breakneck speed, but I'm frozen on the tracks, caught in the headlights.

  "One day, I heard him tell Ma he was going down to the bar to do some work on the books." He gestures his head toward Rae. "You woulda been about 18, I think. Anyway, I started heading that way, thinking I'd give him a hand before we opened for the day, but sure as shit, he was going the wrong direction to get to the bar. I don't know why I did it. I mean, looking back at it now, I had no real reason to suspect anything, but maybe, deep down, I always knew he was keeping something from us. So I followed him."

  A hard laugh erupts from my throat and I don't know why. There's nothing funny about this.

  "I followed him all the way to Boylston and watched him walk into the Central Ground cemetery with a bunch of flowers in his hand."

  Rae stiffens next to me and she swallows hard.

  "He sat there for at least a good hour before he finally left," Sean pushes on. "I just couldn't help myself...I had to see whose grave was worth lying to Ma about. And I guess it didn't disappoint."

  "Let me guess," Rae adds quietly. "It was March 19th?"

  Sean nods, his eyes warm and sympathetic. "Yeah."

  And like an idiot, I opened my big mouth. "What's March 19th?"

  Rae turns to me for just a moment with hollow green eyes and I already know the answer before she gives it: "The day she killed herself."

  Damn. Should've just kept my mouth shut.

  Sean's gaze flicks back and forth between us and then he shoots me a hard warning before continuing his version of this mangled tragedy. "Anyway, I pushed it away for a year. I think I just didn't want to dig...or maybe I wasn't ready to. But it was always in the back of my mind, always made me watch him a little differently than before. So when March 19th rolled around the next year, I was ready. Just like the year before, he told Ma some bullshit lie about meeting some new buyer from some brewery. And he still ended up in that cemetery with flowers in his hand. That was it. I had to figure it out. I practically tore the house apart one weekend trying to find some scrap of evidence to prove me wrong, but it wasn't until I dug through all of the asshole's files in his office that I finally found what I didn't really want to find. I guess all you have to do is follow the money—you'll always find everything you need to know."

  He pauses just long enough to glance over his shoulder, like he's trying to make sure no one is listening.

  "It was all right there in one of his files. It wasn't labeled or anything, but I guess I can see why he wouldn't want to draw attention to it. He'd made four payments to Penn, one per semester for your tuition and I can only assume that he paid for the rest, too. That was what? $40,000 a year? Some child support, huh?"

  That particular bomb hangs in the air for a few moments and before the dust has a chance to settle, Rae slams back into her seat and shakes her head with her eyes closed. "I can't believe it. Well...maybe I can."

  I have a sudden urge to leap up from my seat and hightail it to the first exit I can find. There's no way I can sit here and listen to this. I can't take any more. But that doesn't stop them from carrying on.

  "All I had to do was look up a picture of you online and I just knew it. No one needed to tell me you were his daughter...I could see it," Sean dips his head and runs a hand over his face. "So I drove to Philly and found you. I know it was reckless and stupid, but I didn't know what else to do. I think I just wanted to make sure you were alright more than anything—you know, make sure you were going to all your classes, make sure no idiot boys were givin' you trouble."

  He laughs a little and the faintest smile creeps across Rae's mouth. Part of me wishes I'd known about this when he first figured it out, but then again, I've gotten to survive this last decade in blissful ignorance; Sean, on the other hand, hasn't had that luxury.

  "I couldn't decide whether or not it was worth blowing up your life just because I wanted to tell you I was your brother. You seemed happy at school—you had friends and you just seemed so normal. I didn't know if it was my place to take that away from you by bringing you into my messed up family. So I just checked in on you from time to time until one night, I was too late."

  Rae shifts in her chair and wipes her cheek, masking yet another stray tear. She's trembling next to me; I don't even have to look at her to know. I feel it pouring off her in waves.

  "It's not your fault, Sean," Rae whispers.

  A pained smile flashes across his face. "I didn't get there in time. The whole reason I was there in the first place was to look out for you and the one night you really needed me, I was too late. I'm sorry, Rae."

  She reaches out to squeeze his hand and wipes at her cheek again with the other. "You were there. You were trying to call 911 for me, weren't you? I thought I saw your phone in your hand right after..."

  Rae trails off, the rest of that sentence doesn't really need to be said out loud. At the very least, all my questions are beginning to fade with a clarity so sharp it seems to slice right through me.

  "Sean," I murmur hoarsely and now the attention is all on me. "Why did you plead guilty? I still don't understand why you did it."

  My brother lifts a shoulder like confessing to a crime he didn't commit is no big deal. "It was just a knee-jerk, completely stupid move. I didn't think about it at all; I just did it. But I think I wanted Pop to look me in the eye and tell the truth for once. I wanted him to admit what he did. I wanted him to admit that he'd walked away from his own flesh blood because he was a coward and a liar and a cheater. I wanted to get back at him for lying to us for all these years and letting us hold him up on that pedestal like he was a god." He laughs again and shakes his head. "I thought if I confessed, it would force him into telling the truth. It didn't work. And hey, did you know that once you confess to a crime, especially a violent one, you can't really take it back?"

  He laughs like this is somehow actually funny, but Rae and I aren't laughing.

  "Anyway, Moretti pretty much took it from there and it all happened really fast. One minute I was in lock-up, the next I was being transferred to Concord looking at 10-15 years. I barely even had a chance to talk to a lawyer before it was all said and done. He saw an opportunity and took it—I can't say I really blame him. Definitely succeeded a lot more than I ever did."

  I steal a glance at Rae, who closes her eyes, her chest heaving—probably the only way she's keeping herself from openly crying in front of us.

  "Did you see anything that night?" Rae whispers. "Anything that could help us get you out of here?"

  Sean shakes his head furiously. "I told you before and I'll tell you again. Just leave it alone. Don't go diggin' around in this shit, alright? Just don't."

  Now I lean forward, dipping my head low so I know he can
hear me. "We're doing this with or without your help, Sean. You know that. So if you know something, anything, you might as well make it easier on us because there's no point in trying to protect her from it now. Maybe if we just went to Pop and—"

  "Why the hell would you do that?" Sean spits out from across the table. "He never admitted it before and he won't do it now. Besides, what good would it do if that piece of shit finally came clean?"

  "Well," I shoot back hotly. "Now I know why Pop has never come to visit you."

  "Yeah," Sean laughs bitterly. "He knows better than to show his face here. I don't care if I ever see him again."

  I get where Sean's coming from, but he's still our dad. That has to count for something, right? I don't know what else I can cling to. "Come on, Sean. How do you know Pop never—"

  "Everyone thinks he's such a fucking hero," Sean bites out, his voice cold and distant. "You step foot in Southie and all you hear about is how Roark Callahan is the perfect example of hard work and dedication and generosity. How he's got this perfect life, this perfect family. Nobody cares about how the bar really makes its money because they all love him so much and because those fights bring business into the neighborhood. The poor kid from the wrong side of the tracks who made good. The only one willing to step up to the plate and fight for our community. Too bad nobody knows that he cheated on his wife, lied to his family for years, and threw away a daughter the same way he throws out his trash. Yeah," Sean laughs harshly. "He's a real saint."

  I suck in a harsh breath and shake my head. This is his bitterness talking. His resentment over the circumstances that put him here. No matter what he says, no matter how hateful, spiteful, and truthful his words might be, my mind just won't wrap around them.

  The most I can give him is this: "Do you think Ma knows?"