He stiffens. ‘It’s not you.’ I’m silent, waiting for him to continue. ‘It’s the whole situation. It’s hopeless.’
‘Why?’ I try to imagine what could have happened to split three brothers asunder. I have no familiarity with family dynamics. I run through the possibilities, discounting most of them immediately. I don’t have enough information but, even if I did, nothing would have prepared me for his next statement.
‘They’re not my real brothers.’ I wait for those words to spread through me, wondering if they’ll make any kind of sense. ‘I found out a while ago that Jagger and Theo are brothers; I’m not. I’m not really a Hart, Cora. That’s what we fought about today. That’s what we fight about every day.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. I want to pull the words back as soon as I’ve said them. It’s like the removing of a dam wall—once done, it’s impossible to put it back in place. I’ve said something to Cora I had no intention of saying and yet the words burst from me without my consent, certainly without my forethought.
And now she knows.
She knows what only a handful of people in the world do. Fewer than ten. Jagger, Grace, Theo, Asha, Ryan—dead—my mother—dead—the PI I hired, Barrett, our lawyer and family friend, me... My dad? My real dad? I have no idea if he knows I exist. Did he choose not
to know me? Not to love me?
Ice fills my veins.
‘What?’
I don’t look at her. I can’t. But I feel her eyes boring into my back, determined and sharp. I can see them without even looking at her.
‘Holden?’ A rustle of the sheets. She moves, her hand on my shoulder, her body close. She’s warm; I’m not. ‘What do you mean?’
I swallow convulsively, stare straight ahead at the twinkling lights of Sydney. ‘I was raised a Hart, but I’m not.’
‘I don’t understand...’
Of course she doesn’t.
‘Ryan Hart took me in as a kid. He raised me as his son. Told everyone I was, so I thought—everyone thought I was. I broke up his marriage to Jagger’s mom because I was living proof of his many, many infidelities.’ I clamp my mouth shut, disgust filling me. ‘I have no idea why he did that, Cora. I mean, I’m not his kid. He didn’t have to do that. None of it makes any sense.’
She’s frowning. It emanates from her to me, her thoughts spinning loudly. ‘How do you know he’s not your dad?’
‘After Ryan died, a friend of ours, who happens to be a lawyer for the firm we use, approached me. He had some paperwork from years ago—they’d been buried in a heap of other stuff; Barrett only found them by chance, going through Dad’s old files. He didn’t know about this or he would have told me—we’ve always been close.’
She’s quiet for a moment and then, gently, ‘What were the documents?’
‘Legal adoption papers.’
‘So your dad—Ryan—adopted you?’
‘He tried to. My biological dad would have had to give up his custodial rights, and he didn’t. I don’t know if he couldn’t, if he was dead or lost, I don’t even know if they were able to contact him, but it never happened.’ My expression tightens. ‘Which proves only that Ryan knew all along—I’m not his son. He knowingly lied to me.’
She comes to sit beside me, her hand on my thigh. ‘To protect you.’
‘You don’t know Ryan.’ I dismiss the very idea. ‘He was a self-serving bastard. There’s no way he raised me out of the goodness of his heart. Which leaves me to wonder why. Did he know who my father was? Did he hate him? Was raising me some kind of revenge? Was it to punish him? To punish my mother? I’ll never know, Cora. In fact, the only thing I know for certain is that I don’t belong.’
The words are sharp between us. There’s sympathy in her eyes, such sympathy that I want to punch something. I have known this sympathy before and I resent it as much now as I did then.
‘Don’t.’ The word is a warning.
‘Don’t what?’
‘Don’t look at me like I’m a kid whose balloon just got popped. It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s just one of those things.’
More sympathy. Fucking great. ‘I’m serious, Cora.’
‘How can you say that?’