Page 102 of Take My Hand

When I got home, they were both sitting on the sofa, Maya pushed up against his side, reading something on his laptop.”

“Hi,” I said, flopping down in the armchair.

“Hey.” Dad looked up and frowned. “You’re early. I thought you and Zak were going out for tea after school.”

I shrugged. “I thought you probably needed me more.”

Maya’s hand went to her chest as a smile lit up her face. Dad exhaled and shook his head.

“Sweetheart, I’m fine. You didn’t need to worry about me.”

“I do, though, Dad. It’s a big thing. What are you looking at anyway?” I pointed at the laptop.

He glanced at the screen, then Maya, and then brought his gaze back to me. “Research.”

“Research for what?” I frowned, pulling my legs under me and getting comfy.

“Trying to find out more about Steven Brownlow.”

“I thought maybe your dad should know more about him,” Maya said, pulling the sleeves of her jumper down over her hands. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s a good idea.” We’d only had a handful of chats about his father over the years, but they had always been the same vein. Dad didn’t care about him because he clearly didn’t care about Dad. He had a preconceived idea that he wasn’t a good man, seeing as he was about to get married when he’d got my grandma pregnant, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious to find out what his father was truly like. “What have you found out?”

“He’s a car salesman,” Dad scoffed. “Or at least he was. He recently sold his business to some big franchise.”

“A car salesman,” I repeated. “Nothing exciting like a spy or a forensic scientist then?”

“No.” Dad rolled his eyes. “Probably explains how he talked my mum into getting into bed with him.”

“Also explains your silver tongue,” I offered, and it didn’t go unnoticed that Maya blushed and shifted in her seat. I shuddered, really not wanting to think about what that meant—because I could guess.

Dad coughed and nodded. “Yeah, I guess I am pretty good at getting a good deal from suppliers.”

“Yeah, exactly.” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Anyway, apart from him selling cars, what else have you found out?”

“He has a wife—or did. She died. Breast cancer.”

“He has a Facebook profile, believe it or not,” Maya added. “Open to everyone.”

“Maybe he thought you might do this.” I nodded at the laptop on Dad’s knee. “Go snooping.”

“Research,” he corrected with a raised eyebrow. “Maybe.” He sighed heavily. “And I have a brother.”

Gasping, I leaned forward at the waist. “A brother!”

A shadow passed over his face, but he soon replaced it with a tight smile. That had to hurt, knowing that his dad had an active part in his sibling’s life.

“He’s the same age as me. Three months younger.”

Shit, that had to hurt more. “Just three months.”

“Hmm. Seems he got Mrs Brownlow up the duffer on their honeymoon.”

“Dad,” I groaned. “You can’t say up the duffer.”

“No,” Maya agreed, nudging him. “That is so wrong.”

“Okay, okay. He impregnated her on their honeymoon and produced Cameron Brownlow, my brother, who is also a car salesman.”

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