Page 67 of Nathan

Come on. Spit it out already.

Slowly, I open my eyes and look at each one of my brothers in turn. “That’s just it. You’re not my brothers. Not full ones, anyway. Mom had an affair. I’m the result.”

Apart from a faint buzzing sound coming from the air conditioning unit, there’s complete silence. Sweat coats my palms, and my mouth is so dry my lips stick to my teeth. God, this is awful. Hideous. I hold my breath, waiting for the ax to fall.

Declan’s posture stiffens, his spine rigid, while Ciaran’s mouth drops open. Callum, on the other hand, shoots me a disbelieving look.

“The fuck you talking about?”

My insides boil at his routine blunt response, and I curl my hands into fists. “Want me to say it in fucking French?”

Callum’s eyes widen, and a muscle ticks in his cheek. “You might as well, because you’re talking out of your ass.”

“Shut up, Callum,” Ciaran says, beating me to it. Except my response would have been “Fuck you.”

“Why do you think Mom had an affair?” Declan asks, the question accompanied by a painful wince, which I mirror.

“I found a letter. Years ago, when I was home for Thanksgiving. It was from him; the man Mom had an affair with. Apparently, she’d broken things off, and he was writing back to acknowledge her wishes. Her letter was included with his. That’s how I found out I wasn’t Dad’s real son.” I flinch again, and my chin trembles. I clamp my jaw tight and try to breathe through my nose.

An understanding crosses Declan’s face. “Seven years,” he mutters. “That’s when you found the letter, wasn’t it?” I nod, and he continues. “And that’s why you stopped coming home unless we twisted your arm or guilt-tripped you.”

“Yep.”

Declan sweeps a hand over his head and hisses, “Jesus.”

I glance over at Ciaran, who still hasn’t said anything apart from scolding Callum, but then that is so like him. He’ll hold his tongue until he figures out the right thing to say. Except I doubt that even my composed, unflappable brother will find the words to fix this fuck-up.

“Where is this so-called letter?” Callum asks.

Agitation inches across my skin, a restless energy coiling through me. I jab my finger in his direction. “Fuck you. You think I’m making this shit up?”

Callum must realize he’s screwed up because his cheeks bloom with color. Callum never blushes.

“Of course I don’t think you’re making it up,” he backtracks. “But if, as you say, you discovered this information years ago, then you’ve had years to come to terms with it. Remember, we’re hearing this for the first time.”

“Come to terms with it,” I say through gritted teeth as my anger reaches boiling point. “You think I’ve come to fucking terms with the fact I’m not an O’Reilly? That we’re not fully related? That the mother we all adored had an affair? Jesus, you are a fucking piece of work, you know that?”

All three of my brothers start talking at once, but I’m done listening to this crap. I launch to my feet, dislodging Dex’s hand from my thigh, and I storm across the room.

Ciaran shoots in front of me. I didn’t even see him move.

“Don’t go. Not like this. We need to talk.”

I shove him out of the way, which isn’t an easy feat because Ciaran is two hundred pounds of solid muscle. “I’m done talking.” Slamming the door to Declan’s apartment behind me, I jump into the elevator and stab the button for the lobby. If any of them are stupid enough to follow me, I’ll knock their fucking teeth out.

I burst out onto the street, my lungs blazing with agony. I shouldn’t have let Dex talk me into it. I knew it would be a complete disaster. Being right hurts like a bitch.

My eyes burn with hot tears, but fuck if I’ll stand in the street blubbing like some goddamn loser. I lost my brothers seven years ago. Nothing has changed, except now they might stop nagging me to come back to New York every five fucking minutes. I’ll change my flight and head back to LA in the morning. Dex can either come or stay. Her choice.

Bye-bye, New York. I always fucking hated you anyway.

Chapter 25

Dex

With sorrow and disbelief running through me, I stare at the space Nate had occupied not ten seconds ago. Where had it had all gone so terribly wrong? I don’t think for one moment Callum had meant for his words to cut as deeply as they had, but Nate’s over-the-top reaction speaks volumes. I saw his face when Ciaran tried to stop him—a mixture of rage, disappointment, hurt… and presumption. He’d expected this to go badly, so it had. Almost as if he’d willed it, because believing his brothers would ostracize him as soon as they found out the truth validated his own misguided beliefs.

Nathan O’Reilly: outsider, loner, good for nothing.

---