“You’re right,” I concede and watch his responding frown. “But that doesn’t mean you can act like a bastard and hurt Via in the process.”
He steps away, covering his face and rubbing his palms over the anguish I see so clearly now. Lowering himself onto one of my workout benches, I repeat the process and seat myself on the other one. He found me in my gym at home after I sent him a text ordering him to come and explain himself, but I haven’t gotten to the bottom of anything yet.
“It all got out of hand,” he whispers.
“You got out of hand,” I counter, an edge to my voice.
“Yes, fine.” He throws his hands up. “I got out of hand.”
“Why?” I demand.
He studies me for a moment. “Why?”
Keeping my mouth shut, I nod. Toby sighs dropping his head. There’s a slight sway coming from his dangling arms, and the shadow of them passes across his feet where the sunlight and shade clash. “Two years ago I received a letter from Social Services. They asked me to get in contact with them.”
Easing the bench back, pushing until it touches the mirror, I try to relax against it, but every muscle is strung tight waiting for something to drop.
And then it does.
“I met with a lady at their offices. Apparently, they’d tried to get in contact with you but had no luck, and I was the next in line.”
“In line?” I question.
“The next of kin.”
I bolt up, standing, towering over my brother’s hunched form. “Kin?” I thunder.
Toby’s head snaps up, and his pained eyes meet mine. “Kin,” he says, and I lower myself back to the bench. I have no words. For once in my life I’m shocked, and I don’t know how to deal with it. I’m having trouble processing this feeling—very little shocks me.
“Apparently, there was an aunt who knew about us.”
I wait, needing to know everything. I’ve pulled myself back from my momentary lapse in self-containment and am ready to take my usual measured approach.
“She had some things that belonged to our parents. I’m not sure why she kept them for so many years.” He shrugs as if it will answer his question. “But it was in her will, to be passed onto the department, and then sent to us, to you.”
“Why me?”
Toby shakes his head. “I don’t know. At a guess I would say because you’re the eldest.”
“So what did they give you?”
“Photos, jewellery, documentation like our original birth certificates.”
“And? There’s more isn’t there?” I push.
“I can’t do this shit.” Toby starts rising.
“Sit down now,” I growl at him.
His eyes widen, but he follows my instruction. My family has never seen the other side of me—they’ve never see Kane. I can tell that although my brother has known what I am for years, the realisation is only just sinking in.
“I’m fucking sitting,” he spits his words at me, but it’s only to cover his fear, and my stomach revolts. I don’t want my family to be scared of me. Not ever.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” I sigh, and he visibly relaxes before my eyes.
“This is one messed-up situation.” There’s a rawness, a torment in his tone.
“Messed up? That’s the verb you’re choosing?” I say with a small grin.
He looks up at me and I watch as a shadow moves through his eyes. “There were letters.”
Raising my chin, I wait for him to continue. “Tell me, Isaac, do you know anything about our parents?”
“Yes.”
His eyes widen at my omission. We were never told much about where we came from. Mum and Dad weren’t told much just that our parents died and we were fostered for about a year before they adopted us.
Toby leans forward, his mouth opening and closing as if he’s trying to capture his words in the air. Seeming to gather his thoughts he asks, “What do you know and how?”
I raise an eyebrow at him, not sure why he’s asking how when he knows I can obtain any information I want in my job.
“What do you know?”
An internal debate ensues as I decide how much to reveal. “Do you really want to know, no matter the answer?” I ask quietly.
His eyes assess me, he takes time to come to a conclusion. “Yes.”
“Okay. Our father got hooked on crack, then one day he shot our mother in the head.”
His torso jerks backwards as though I punched him in the gut.
“Don’t mince your words, big brother.”
Crossing my arms, I lean back stoically. What more can I say? It’s what I know, and now so does Toby.
“They wanted you, not me.” His words are scratchy like they clawed their way up from deep inside. “I’ve got the letters. Before Lawson came along, they were thinking of putting me up for adoption.”
Frowning, I lean forward. “You’re sure?”
“I read the fucking letters, Isaac. I know what they said.”
“What exactly?”
Toby’s head falls back and hits one of the bars from my weight machine. “Bollocks!” He slams the word out, and it’s more than just the instant pain. It’s like a battle cry without the battle.
“Toby.”
“Okay, fuck!” he grunts, rubbing his head. “They were letters from our mother, but they weren’t addressed to anyone and were never posted. I think they were meant to be a diary of sorts.” I nod for him to continue.
“They started by saying how amazing you were, but then went on to say that she was pregnant again and didn’t know how she would cope.” I stiffen as he unfolds the story. “As the letters continue, she has me then admits to contacting adoption agencies.” He looks at me, and all I see is my little
