24. Nate
Chapter 24
Dex’s hand squeezes mine as we enter Declan’s apartment building. My text message to our group chat had prompted a flurry of questions, all of which I ignored. Most notably was the “Why no wives/girlfriends?” at my impromptu request for a meeting. If I’ve timed it right, Dex and I will be the last to arrive. I can’t stand the thought of sitting around waiting for Callum and Ciaran to get here while Declan probes me for answers.
No matter how much I try, I can’t halt the hurricane swirling around in my stomach. I can’t believe that after seven years of holding my secret close, a few weeks with Dex has broken down my carefully erected barriers and unraveled my silence, resulting in me spilling my guts to her. I hadn’t intended to tell her a thing, but she has a way of loosening my tongue.
The woman would make a marvelous interrogator. She should apply for a job with the CIA.
I feel sick when the elevator doors open onto the lobby. This could all go horribly wrong, or it could go perfectly right. I can’t call it. I’m not worried about their reaction to my parentage so much as I’m terrified of destroying the memory they all have of our mother. Each one of my brothers held her on a sort of pedestal. Maybe if she’d lived, they’d have seen her flaws and recognized she was as human as the rest of us. But she hadn’t, and they didn’t.
But I do. I know exactly how flawed she was.
Dex increases the pressure on my hand. “I’m with you all the way.”
I nod but can’t speak. My mouth is dry, and I’m finding it difficult to swallow past a huge lump in my throat. My heart hammers against my ribcage, the tender muscle bruised and battered by the very cage meant to protect it.
Jesus, the parallel with my own existence isn’t fucking funny. Guess it’s too early for alcohol, although I wouldn’t say no to a very large whiskey right at this moment. Fuck the hangover.
As we exit the elevator into the foyer, Dex curls her hands around my neck and forces me to look at her. “Breathe. It’s going to be fine. They love you.”
“Don’t you get it? I’m about to destroy their memory of Mom.”
She shakes her head. “Your mom had an affair, Nate. That doesn’t make her unlovable or any less the wonderful mother she was to all of you. It makes her fallible, like the rest of us.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. “I hope my brothers see it that way.”
She waits for me to open my eyes. “They will,” she says gently. “Trust me. You’re doing the right thing.”
I briefly kiss her. This girl. I can’t imagine a life without her now. She brings light to my dark, drags laughter from me when no one else can, and makes me want things I never expected to want.
“Ready?” she asks.
“No,” I reply, forcing a faint smile.
I use the key Declan gave me and open the door to his apartment. Three heads swivel as we enter, and the knot in my stomach tightens.
No backing out now.
“Well, you summoned us, and we’re here,” Callum says. “What’s so fucking urgent that I got dragged over here on a Sunday morning when I should still be in bed with my girlfriend?”
Declan glares at him, but Callum simply returns his annoyed stare with one of his own. My tongue dampens my dry lips. I think I’m gonna puke. How do I begin? What should I say first? Goddammit, I should have practiced this in a mirror or something. I’m a fucking actor. I read lines. I’m useless at improvising.
I sit on the small couch opposite my three brothers, and Dex sits beside me, resting her hand on my thigh, the warmth from her palm bleeding through my jeans, grounding me right when I need it. I could kiss her, and not only because it’d distract me, but because when I’m kissing her, I forget everything except how good she makes me feel.
“You have to let me finish,” I begin, the warning for Callum’s benefit rather than Declan or Ciaran who are far less likely to interrupt. “Or I can’t do this.”
Callum’s eyes narrow. “You’re beginning to worry the shit out of me, little brother.”
Declan leans forward, his forearms resting on his knees. “You can tell us anything, Nate. We’re your brothers, and we love you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. The back of my throat aches, and I have difficulty swallowing. My pulse begins to race, speeding up with every passing second.
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.