to think about how much I resemble my big brother.
“You ever pass as Hispanic?”
“No. I’m fluent enough, but even if I wore colored contacts, my hair and skin aren’t dark enough. I’m always a crooked gringo.”
“Good to know,” Duncan said with a laugh.
They talked for a few minutes, Conall asking how Jane and baby Fiona were, Duncan in return wanting to know about the kids here at the house.
“I hear Des thinks Walker is his new best friend,” he said.
“I kind of get the feeling Des makes a lot of friends.”
“He’s definitely a glass half full kid,” Duncan agreed. “Something none of us ever were.”
Conall stiffened at the offhanded remark about their shared past. He waited for the old feelings to grab him by the throat, but they stayed absent. Finally he said cautiously, “I would have said you were. I always thought of you as the golden boy. Popular, good at everything, most likely to succeed.”
“Desperate to get the hell out of Dodge, you mean.”
“Really? That’s what you were thinking all that time?”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Duncan said flatly. “Early on, I figured out that Mom and Dad wouldn’t be paying my way through college. If I was going, I had to do it on my own. Grades or an athletic scholarship were my way out.”
“You worked all those years for something you had to throw away.”
“I got my college degree and the career I wanted.” Duncan paused. “When I was a kid, I didn’t let myself think about what would happen to you and Niall. I won’t say I wasn’t shocked by what Mom did or by what it meant to me, but whether you think I’m spouting a line of bull or not, the truth is I’m glad things fell the way they did. I didn’t have to spend the rest of my life with you two on my conscience.”
Stunned, Conall took a minute before he said, with what he intended to be his usual mockery, “Saint Duncan.”
He had the feeling his brother was smiling when he said, “I don’t hear any bitterness. Don’t tell me the years are finally mellowing you.”
Was it true? Well, hell. “I guess maybe they are,” he admitted. “Or something else is.”
“Maybe someone.”
“Maybe.” His voice sounded thick.
They both backed off after that, but, like every time he saw or spoke to Duncan lately, Conall was left shaken by how much everything had changed. His perception of the past had shifted. It was as if two different artists had painted the same scene, interpreting it with completely different sensibilities. Maybe neither was the truth, but both were true.
Go figure.
He made a point of seeking out Sorrel before dinner, finding her in her bedroom with the laptop open. “You okay?” he asked.
Color swept over her face. “Um, yeah.”
He smiled. “You going to talk to your parents?”
Her shoulders jerked. “I kind of have to, don’t I?”
“Probably. One of those parts of being a kid that sucks.”
She gave a tiny giggle, but her gaze still shied from his. “I’m, well, I’m sorry for…you know.”
He stayed relaxed in the doorway, shoulder propped against the frame. “Yeah, I know, and don’t worry about it.”
Sorrel nodded.
“You know what I’d like? I’d like to see your uncle arrested. Behind bars where he belongs.”
“Lia says she bets there’ve been other girls. Or there will be.”
“Unfortunately, that’s true. It stinks that he has to hurt more than one girl before anyone takes it seriously.”
“Yeah.” She sounded militant. Then, the next instant, pathetically young. “I wish I hadn’t let him—”
“Let him?” That pissed Conall off. “He had the power, Sorrel, not you. Every single thing that happened is on him. You are not responsible. Don’t ever even think that again.”
“Okay.” Her teeth closed on her lower lip. Then she said softly, “I’ll try not to.”
He made an effort to hide his anger for fear she’d misunderstand it. “Good girl.”
“Is it time for dinner?”
“Lia hasn’t called us yet. I’m going upstairs to check in with Jeff. Knock when it’s time, okay?”
She nodded, smiled, a shy blooming of beauty to come. “Thank you.”
He wasn’t going to say you’re welcome, because she didn’t owe him for a thing. It enraged Conall to think of her so vulnerable, betrayed by someone she should have been able to trust. It was worse, so much worse, than the kind of betrayals he took for granted from the scum he dealt with on the job. Would Sorrel ever truly be all right again? He doubted she would; faith in