Page 85 of Love You Truly

PJ: I just heard from Graham.

Archer: Fuck him. What’s he want?

Archer will never forgive our dad for having a kid he never told us about, and I’m pretty sure he plans to take his anger out on Graham for good measure.

PJ: Fire’s burning his property. He’s telling us to evacuate to be safe

Jax: Guess that’s decent of him

So far, PJ and I have the best relationship with our half brother of any of our siblings because we met him first and became the unofficial liaisons between us all. I fire off a text to him.

Me: Hey. You okay?

Dots bounce on my phone immediately.

Graham: Yeah. Fire was burning through my vines when I left.

Me: Where are you now?

Graham: Driving

Me: Driving where?

Graham: Around. Not sure where to go

I don’t think twice before responding.

Me: Come here. Not that it’s the safest if the wind shifts, but at least we can figure shit out together

The dots appear again. Then they disappear. Again, it seems like he’s typing. Then nothing.

Me: Quit deliberating. Just come

Graham: Fine

Five minutes later, Graham’s green truck rattles up the drive. He looks shell-shocked as he walks over to us. His dark hair sticks out in all different directions like he was having a terrible night’s sleep long before his property went up in flames.

I still have very mixed feelings about having a half brother, but the dude is clearly in a bad way.

“You okay?” I ask. I feel like offering him a stiff drink, though it’s the last thing anyone needs in the middle of the night when a shifting wind could send flames off in a new direction despite the best efforts of the fire crew.

Slowly, he shakes his head. “I hope I never see anything like that again.”

“What does it look like?” Mallory asks.

“Just…fire. Everywhere I looked. Burning down the vines like a spreading ball of flames. Then there was so much smoke I couldn’t even see that, but I could hear it. I don’t think I’ll ever unhear the crackling sound of plants dying.”

“How close were you?” I ask, shivering at the image he’s painting.

“Close.” He points across the drive to where a stand of oak trees shades the path between the main road on the property and my front door. It’s a hundred feet, max. “Here to there. Initially, I tried to fight it with a hose, but I’ve lived here long enough to know that’s how people die trying to save a house. I heard the sirens heading my way, so I got the hell out before the winds shifted.”

“Graham, I’m so sorry,” Mallory says, reaching for his hands. I watch her interact with him, just pure concern like one human should have for another human who may have lost his home in a fire.

I can’t say that all my frustrations about Graham’s very existence evaporate on the breeze. It’s not that easy. I’m still plenty pissed at my dad, and it’s hard to like a guy who appeared out of nowhere with a gift that put Buttercup Hill into turmoil.

On the other hand, it’s not his fucking fault that our dad chose to knock up his mom. It’s also not our fault that he was raised by a single mother and could never tell anyone he was related to the great Kingston Corbett.

There, standing on my driveway with a guy I barely know, I decide that maybe I can mend fences a little bit. Maybe that’s more important than holding on to a grudge I did nothing to create. My siblings may have other ideas, but I feel good about where I stand.

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