“I’ll let you know.”
“I wanted to let you know that the charges against me have been dropped. We can now put all of this behind us.”
Could we? Would it be that easy? I grew up not knowing that my friend, my father’s secretary’s son, someone who I’d looked up to all my life, was really my half-brother.
That same man had almost gotten himself, my father, and me killed. And for what? Revenge that he’d been fathered by a man who’d secretly taken care of him his whole life? Who gave him a trust fund worth millions of dollars?
I shook my head. It was always too easy for me to get caught up in what Brand had done and wonder what role I’d played in it. I’d finally accepted that I hadn’t played any role. The choices he’d made were his own, and he would pay their price.
“Tara? You still there?”
“Sorry, Dad. I’m trying to finish a painting.”
“I’ll let you go. I love you, sweetheart.”
“You too, Daddy.”
29
Halo
Didn’t matter what day it was,; the routine was the same. I’d roll out of bed with the sunrise, have a cup of tea, stare at the painting—the only thing that hung on the walls of my new apartment.
I’d moved back to Boston shortly after I returned from Italy, so it wasn’t exactly new anymore. It just didn’t feel like home. Had there ever been a place that felt that way to me? If there had, I couldn’t remember it.
The night I’d landed in Boston, my sister picked me up at the airport. She drove to an out-of-the-way restaurant and, through many tears, told me she was pregnant. What she wouldn’t tell me was who the baby’s father was, or what her plan was for having him in her and the child’s lives.
I was frustrated, but ultimately, all Sloane wanted from me was my support, which I agreed to give her. I moved from DC to Boston, held her hand when she told our parents, and went to her doctor’s appointments with her. So often I saw her pain, the haunted look in her eyes that reminded me of Tara when I’d first met her. I wished she’d confide in me the secrets she felt she had to keep, but until she was ready, I’d be the best brother I could to her.
Yesterday, I’d received an email from Doc Butler, saying he’d be in town today and asking if we could meet. I’d anticipated hearing from him. In fact, I was surprised it had taken him this long to rescind the partnership offer made to me at the end of last year. I knew it was merely a formality, but once it happened, it would mean any ties I might have to Tara, even vicariously, would be gone.
I wondered if Doc was also meeting with Tackle, but not enough to ask. I’d see him later on the job site of the project we were working on together for his dad’s company.
I took one more look at Tara’s painting after I’d taken a shower, gotten dressed in the same crappy clothes I wore every day, pulled on my work boots, and left for work.
“Did you hear from Doc?” I asked Tackle when he parked next to my truck and climbed out.
“About?”
“He’s in town. Wants to meet.”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
“Did you ever give them a final answer one way or the other?”
“Not yet.”
I dropped the subject and went to work on the cabinet installation that was slated for today. A little after noon, my cell rang.
“Hey, Doc. You in town?”
“Just landed and got your email. Al Dente in the North End sounds fine.”
I walked a few feet away from where my friend was working. “I know this is none of my business, but what about Tackle?”
“First things first. I’ll see you tonight, Halo.”
I walked up to the restaurant at a little before eight and saw Doc already seated at a table. He stood when he saw me walk in.