‘I’m fine,’ I reiterate, glaring out at the harbour. ‘Look, man, just drop it.’ I look over my shoulder. Theo’s inside with Grace, doing a FaceTime call with Asha so she can see Felicity. Perfect, happy families.
I grind my teeth, looking back at Jagger. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘It matters to me. You’re my brother—’
I feel an insane urge to punch him. I don’t. ‘I’m just some guy you grew up with.’
‘For Christ’s sake, stop it. We both know that’s not true.’
‘Bullshit. I know it’s true. I’ve always known it was true.’
‘What?’ He stares at me and I realise what I said, shaking my head.
‘I don’t mean that. I just mean...’ I search for the words, my mind not quite catching up. ‘I’ve always been different to you. I felt different and, deep down, I think I knew I was different. Ryan was way harder on me than he was on you guys—’
‘He knew you were smarter than Theo and me put together. He wanted you to make the most of your potential.’
But I see it so much more clearly now. ‘No, he didn’t want me to end up like my mother.’ My eyes narrow. ‘Or maybe he didn’t want me to end up like my father. Maybe he knew who my father is—was—maybe he knew something about him that made him ride me extra hard. I’ll never know, but at least the way he treated me makes sense now. He always set me apart from you guys, made me feel different, and I was.’
Jagger’s face contorts with emotion. He stares at me for several beats and then shakes his head. ‘You’re making yourself feel like this. I’m standing here right now telling you you’re our brother. I don’t care what some DNA test says. It doesn’t change anything for me.’
‘That’s great for you, but for me everything’s different. I wish you and Theo would just accept that I have a right to feel this way.’ I straighten, fully aware I’m being an ass, torching every bridge I can see. And even though I might say I don’t care, I do, because I don’t want to stand here and fight with Jagger.
‘Look... I’ve got to go.’
‘Go where?’
‘Anywhere but here.’
Cora.
‘Nice,’ Jagger snaps, but he reaches out and grabs my arm, jerking me around so I instinctively react, lifting a hand to push at his shoulder. His eyes spark with mine and years of frustration—frustrations with me—come to the fore.
He lifts his hands—both of them—and shoves them at my chest. I react on instinct again, this time lifting a fist and bringing it down on his face. He lunges backwards and then lurches forward, his own fist lifting. I dodge his first hook but he lands another, this one crunching against my cheekbone so I taste blood in m
y mouth and I’m so glad—glad for the pain, the blinding shock.
He lunges for me and I grip his arms but then Theo is there, pulling at me, shouting at Jagger, separating us, and I hear a baby’s crying and Grace’s voice, panic and pain, and I stop immediately, stepping back as if waking from a nightmare. My brother’s face is bruised—I did that. I lift a finger to my own cheek and it comes away bloodied. Jagger’s nursing his fist in the palm of his hand and Theo’s looking from one of us to the other as though we’ve lost our minds.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologise because, deep down, I know this is wrong. But I don’t. I can’t. I don’t want to look at Jagger or Theo right now. I stalk towards the sliding glass doors but as I reach them I pause, my eyes reaching Grace’s. ‘I’m sorry.’ She doesn’t deserve this.
Her features show sympathy. ‘It’s fine. Don’t go. Let me get you some ice.’
I shake my head.
‘Please, Holden. Just stay a minute. Let me make sure you’re okay.’
I make a hollow, sarcastic laughing sound, so like Jagger’s that I wince. ‘Okay? I will be.’ And then, because I see hurt in her eyes, I reach out and touch her wrist. ‘I am sorry.’
‘I know.’ Her eyes shift, moving to Jagger, and their connection hits me. Their uniqueness, their understanding.
Feeling like an outsider—and deserving that—I move away quickly. I don’t look at Felicity as I pass the crib. I don’t think I can bear that today.
* * *
I need to see you.
My heart speeds up a notch. I sit down on the windowsill, basking in the afternoon sunshine and the dust motes that are visible along its path, rereading his text.