Page 74 of Nathan

“Here’s one of you, Callum, about the same age,” Declan says, waving the picture in the air.

Callum grimaces. “Well, you ain’t showing Laurella that one. Check out those chubby cheeks.”

Dex laughs. “If she sees Ciaran’s, she’ll know what you looked like anyway. You’re identical twins, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Oh, shit, yeah.”

Heat radiates through my chest. These guys are my family, and they always have been. I was just too caught up in the lies I’d told myself to recognize it. The realization catches me off guard, and I suck in a sharp breath.

“You okay?” Dex asks, squeezing my hand.

I nod. “All good, Titch.”

The fifth box I open contains the shoebox. My breath snags in my throat as the memories of the night that changed my life come flooding back, and I grip the lid but find I can’t open it.

“Here, you do it.” I push the shoebox across the floor to Declan.

He opens the lid and peers inside. A smile tugs at his lips as he lifts out a stack of Christmas and birthday cards. He passes them around, and we all take our time to open the cards and read the greeting.

“That’s it,” I say when Declan picks out a pink envelope.

He takes out the card and opens it. The letter flutters to the floor. Unfolding it, he scans the first page, his eyes moving over the words. When he finishes the top sheet, he starts on the second one. From what I can remember, that’s Mom’s original letter, which my sperm donor had returned for some reason. Maybe it was too painful for him because he’d actually loved us both and was trying to cut ties as a way of coping. Or maybe he was an unfeeling bastard who found it easy to compartmentalize, and once he’d accepted his affair was over, he’d quickly moved on.

“Well,” Callum says. “What’s it say?”

Declan raises his head. I can only recall one other time when my eldest brother had looked so somber, and that was the morning after our parents’ car crash. He’d sat us all down and given us the worst possible news in his calm, stoic manner that we’d all come to rely on.

Declan passes the letter to Callum, and he and Ciaran read it. I don’t need to. The contents are burned into my brain.

“Are there any other letters?” Declan asks me.

“I don’t know. I didn’t get past that one.”

“I need to see if I can find any more.” His face is pinched as if he’s in physical pain. “I understand if you guys don’t want anything to do with this, but I have to try to understand what was going on with Mom. Why she risked her marriage to Dad and her relationship with all of us. I’m guessing your birth father must have meant a lot to her. There’s a huge amount of sorrow in her words when she wrote to break things off. If you want to leave, feel free.”

I shake my head. “I’m going nowhere.”

“Us either,” Callum says.

Declan takes a breath. “Okay, then let’s begin.”

We spend the next several hours searching through every single box, but apart from that letter, there is no sign of any other communication between Mom and my birth father. Declan closes the final box with a heavy sigh. He stiffly gets to his feet and dusts down his jeans.

“That’s it, then.”

“I guess so.” Disappointment surges through me, despite my earlier insistence that I didn’t want to know anything about my real father. There must be a small piece of me that is desperate to learn where I came from, but my bloody-minded attitude prevented me from acknowledging it. Yet now we’ve arrived at a dead end, I really want to know.

Declan checks the time. “Shit, I’ve got to go. I have a meeting with a supplier at the hotel.”

“And I owe Draven a shift or two,” Ciaran says. “He’s been carrying the load this week.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Sorry, bro.”

“Do you mind if I stay for a while?” I ask, then with a quick look at Dex, I say, “You can go back with Declan if you’d rather.”

“I’m staying,” she says, her jaw muscles set in a rigid line.

“No problem,” Declan says. He removes his cell from his pocket and taps at the screen. “I’ve text you the code. Just make sure you lock up when you leave.”

After they leave, Dex stands and wanders around the unit, touching various items as she passes by.

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