Page 83 of Swept Away

I want totell him that whatever he sees in that wallet, it won’t change anything. That he may not have noticed it, but he’s a whole person of his own, more than the sum of the people who made him. I know he fears he’ll find out that his father wasn’t truly his father, and perhaps it’s because of my relationship with Mae, but I want to tell him it doesn’t matter.

Zeke is Zeke, wherever he came from. And he’s perfect just as he is.

He reads in silence, dropping each paper on his lap as he finishes scanning it. “Paige,” he says eventually, without lifting his head.

“Paige?” I stare at him. “Paige as in…Paige off of our rope fiasco?”

“She found out,” Zeke says, unfolding the last sheet of paper with steady hands. “And told my dad, and that’s what ended my parents’ marriage.”

“Told your dad…”

“About Jeremy.”

I blink. “Your brother?”

“About my mum and Paige’s brother.”

“Wait, sorry, you’ve…”

I’m lost, and Zeke looks so broken by this, I’m desperate to understand. I crouch in front of him, resting my hand on his.

“Zeke, what does it say? What did Paige tell your dad?”

“Jeremy’s not my brother. He’s—he’s my half brother. Jeremy wasn’t my dad’s son.”

“Jeremy?”

He breathes out slowly, and then lets the papers go, spewing them out across the wet floor, dropping his head into his hands and starting to cry.

“It was never me. It was Jeremy. I wasn’t…It was…”

I’ve heard envy in Zeke’s voice every time he talks about his brother. Jeremy, who understood his father’s interests, who was meticulous and fastidious and the perfect son.

And all along, it was Jeremy who was the secret.

Zeke breathes in, tipping his head back against the grubby fridge door.

“I am such an idiot.”

“What? No, you’re—”

“Moping around half my life over some secret that wasn’t even about me?” He presses his hands to his face. “What does it say about me and Jeremy that he never once felt out of place, and I’ve been looking for an excuse for why I don’t belong my whole life?”

I ache for him, pulling him into me.

“And my dad…I never thought he was…”

He sobs against me, his whole body shaking. I grip him tightly, and then even tighter as something hits the roof above us with a quick hardcrash.

We both swear and break apart, ducking, as if whatever is coming at us might be inside the houseboat rather than out. I scrabble to my feet first, then Zeke follows me onto the deck.

Most of our time on the water was spent out here; under the looming weight of the rig, I feel like I’m in a dark version of a scene I’ve lived before. There’s the sea, there’s the rickety railings, but the sky is overcast by this great, cabled ceiling above us. I can smell metal and rust and rot. I draw the sides of my leather jacket close around me, folding my arms.

“Whatever it was that fell, it’s cracked the roof,” I say, my voice shaking. “Look, there, by the bike wheel.”

“We shouldn’t be out here,” Zeke says as he glances up again. “We could get hit.”

He tugs me back to the door, but I resist, looking back to the knot of rope at the far end of the deck.

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