“I don’t know how to explain it.” He grimaced at the sound of something shattering in the bowels of the house. “She was supposed be working.”
Owen nodded and turned swiftly toward his sister while Jason gestured Alex to hurry up and get this under control. It was okay that he hadn’t told people yet. It was okay that he didn’t know how.
It was okay that he needed more time.
Momentarily, Jason’s own restlessness eased.
He closed the door and stood at Owen’s side in the thickening rain. The nerves he’d had when they arrived at Hannah’s soared back to the surface and he clutched Owen’s elbow. Owen patted him and murmured, “She’ll love you.”
Hannah held her hands up like a shield against the raindrops. She jogged up the path, blonde ponytail bouncing, smile growing. She had warm dark eyes, very much like her brother’s, although perhaps heavier at the edges. A face that had experienced a lot, but had never forgotten the glow of a grin.
“Carl. Jesus. Dad warned me and I honest to God thought he was having me on.” She glanced from him to Owen and whacked his arm. “Kept that quiet, didn’t you?”
Jason cleared his throat, “I hope you aren’t too upset.”
“Upset?” Hannah laughed that off with a wave. “Nah. I have a philosophy about secrets.” She glanced between them, hand still visored at her forehead. “Should we head in?”
Owen stepped aside, making a path for her, and gave Jason a reassuring wink as they followed her to the porch. She opened the door to Mary welcoming her home, tail wagging, and fussed over her just as warmly as her brother.
Alex appeared at the end of the hall, holding his fingers an inch apart while Hannah was bowed over floppy ears. Almost there.
She straightened and Owen and Jason spoke at the same time. Owen shook his head with quiet laughter, and Jason bit his lip on a nervous grin.
You go, he mouthed.
“What’s your philosophy on secrets?”
Hannah looked between the two of them. “You only feel safe to share secrets if you’re loved enough.” She kissed Owen’s cheek. “And only you know when you feel loved enough.”
Loved enough. Safe enough. To share secrets.
Or they got found out. By clever cops who happened to read right through you until the truth just blabbered out. Or he glimpsed it from the porch.
As they moved into the house and other conversations took hold, it was this one that held his real attention. He eyed Owen laughing, gently ribbing his sister before slinging himself next to his nephew and fondly patting his head.
Alex released a breath and dropped against Owen’s side, like Jason could imagine him having done as a kid.
Something hummed in his stomach. He thought of how openly his parents had told him he was adopted. How Carl, Cora and Patricia all knew, and didn’t say anything.
Cora.
He saw her pained look when the girls had asked if she’d be their new mummy.
She . . . she didn’t know just how much Carl loved her. How much he loved her regardless of the truth.
Jason, for all the mess he was making . . . needed to do some fixing. He needed to help Cora realise.
“Carl?”
The voice lurched him back to reality. He’d followed Hannah, hard-working, down-to-earth, decent Hannah—a trait that definitely ran in the family—to a room overlooking the back garden. Her cello sat on a stand, and he was fingering the sheet music while Owen and Alex shared a quiet conversation in the lounge, a light murmuring.
“Never thought you had much interest in music.”
Jason stiffened, back to her, staring at the sea of notes in front of him. A language he knew better than the back of his hand. Shit. He’d been humming the tune. “I’m full of surprises?”
A breezy laugh. “That you are.”
He swallowed. “And, uh, Pete’s been asking me to find musicians for his wedding. I thought maybe you and your dad might be interested?”
Owen cleared his throat. He was close; Jason felt the warm buzz. “Sorry to interrupt.” Jason smiled softly; he was sure Owen had done so on purpose, to save Jason from giving himself away. Owen looked at him and jerked a thumb in the direction of the living room. “Mary is eyeing your muffin.”
Jason took the offered reprieve and hounded after the plate on the coffee table, not hungry at all. He’d shown far too much interest in music back there. Let it distract him, on instinct.
He slouched next to Alex on the sofa.
Alex looked at him, equally miserable, and both their lips started twitching. Jason scrolled a hand through his hair. “Tough work, keeping secrets.”
“Yeah.” Alex paused. “Thanks for helping me out. You were right, he doesn’t care about the specifics . . . just that I’m okay.”
Jason shoulder-bumped him. “We’re lucky to have him, aren’t we?”