“I wasn’t here. Boarding school from the age of seven, remember? They kept me away from it all.” Jory took a deep breath. “I want to meet him.”
Yeah, right. “No, you don’t.”
Jory frowned. “Yes, I do.”
“Yeah? What about your brother telling Dev he’d have the law on him if he kept hanging round the family?”
“He what? Oh God. I’m so sorry about Bran. He gets very, um, concerned about the family’s reputation.”
“Wasn’t only him, though, was it? How do you think Dev felt when his own mum—your sister—told him to fuck off?”
Jory closed his eyes briefly. “I don’t know. I can’t imagine it. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“See, that’s where I don’t get it. I asked about you. You’re their brother, aintcha? So how come?”
“We’ve never been close. There’s nine years between us and, well, they’re twins.”
“But you live with them, right? In that big house?”
“I do now. Last year, when Devan came to see her, I was only visiting.”
“But you were there?”
“Yes, but I didn’t know anything about it. Bran just said . . . Honestly, I can’t remember what he said. Probably something about it being a business matter. Bea’s very involved with various local enterprise initiatives.” Jory rubbed the back of his neck. “If I’d known Dev was my nephew . . . I can’t believe I opened the door to him and I didn’t even know.”
Yeah, Mal was having trouble believing it and all. “You must’ve heard them talking. I don’t care how thick the walls are in that old pile.”
“I didn’t, I swear. Have you got a picture of him?”
“On my phone.” Which was upstairs on his bedside table. Mal hesitated. “Look, you can come in, all right, but keep the noise down or you’re gonna have Jago and Tasha to deal with, and it ain’t gonna be pretty.”
He led Jory up the back stairs, desperately hoping Tasha wouldn’t choose this precise minute to stumble out of bed, and breathed a sigh of relief when they made it to the box room Jago had cleared out for him.
It felt weird, having Jory in his bedroom, standing six inches away from his unmade bed. And yesterday’s kecks, which he’d stripped off last night and let fall on the floor. Mal managed to kick them under the bed when he went to grab his phone.
He turned back to Jory, who was standing around looking awkward and way too big for the room, and scrolled through his photos until he found a picture of Dev and Tasha. “There you go.” He handed Jory the phone.
“That’s him?” Jory shook his head slowly. “I . . . It seems awful, but I don’t remember him at all.”
He gave the phone back. Mal didn’t know why he did it—maybe cos the bloke seemed so sad—but he flicked through until he found another shot of Dev, this one with Kyle. “That’s him and his bloke.”
“He’s gay?”
Mal nodded, and Jory smiled, like he was pleased about it. Mal’s stomach did a weird thing, sort of fluttered. He needed to get some breakfast down him. “That’s . . .” Jory trailed off, and just as Mal was about ask what he’d been going to say, he spoke again. “It’s odd . . . the other man seems more familiar, somehow.”
“Yeah?” Mal shrugged. “You probably saw him around last year. He was renting one of them cottages down the cliff from your gaff.”
Jory’s frown cleared. “Yes! I remember now. He came to introduce himself as a neighbour. I’d just had a godawful row with Bran about— And I wasn’t feeling very sociable right then. And, well, I wasn’t living here at the time, so I let Bran deal with him. He must have thought I was terribly unwelcoming.” The frown was back.
“Where were you then?”
“Edinburgh. Up at the university.”
“Bloody hell, couldn’t you find one any further away?”
Jory screwed up his face. “It was just a few years . . . Can you give me his number?”
“What, Dev’s?” Mal managed to bite back the Fuck, no that had been on the tip of his tongue. “I’d have to ask him about that first, mate.”
“Would you?”
Mal slumped down on the bed and ran a hand through his hair. Christ knew what he looked like. It was way too early for all this. “Yeah, see, it really fucked him up, what your sister did. I mean, he said he didn’t give a shit, but he’s my best mate, right? I know him.”
Jory seemed a shedload more oversized and awkward from this angle. “I’m sorry,” he said. And yeah, he sounded like he meant it, but Christ, how could he have been there all along last summer and not known?
Trouble was, Mal was going to have to say something to Dev, wasn’t he? He’d be here in a week, and what were the chances of him and Kyle flying under Uncle Jory’s radar then? Only a crap mate wouldn’t warn him.
Even if it meant him and Kyle might change their plans and not come here after all, and fuck, Mal really didn’t want that to happen.
He wasn’t sure he could face it if Dev didn’t come down.
Sod it. “Listen mate, if I ask you for a favour, will you do it?”
“I, ah, well. Depending what it is.”
Mal couldn’t blame him for being cautious. “Stay away from Dev until I give you the go-ahead, right? You gotta promise me you’ll do that.”
“But—” Jory looked well confused.
“Yeah, I know you ain’t got his number or his address or anything. But you could get it, couldn’t you? She’s got it. Your sister. But I’m saying, you leave him alone until I tell you.”
Jory nodded. “Fine. Of course. But—”
“See, the thing is, he’s coming here. In a week. So you’re gonna see him around. But you keep your distance, or I’ll . . . I’ll let Tasha post dog turds through your letterbox.”
Mal wasn’t
