Page 1 of The Penalty

ONE

RHYS

The first time I lay eyes on my half-brothers is when I’m standing in the pouring rain at my father’s funeral while they lower him into the ground.

They have no idea who I am. What can I even say?Hi, I’m the half-brother you’ve never met, and our father kept secret all our lives?I bet they don’t want to know I exist.

What the fuck am I even doing here?

I asked myself that a hundred times on the way over.

My mother warned me that our way of life would come to an end if they ever found out. I wasn’t allowed to talk to them, or even acknowledge my father was my father. We never would have been able to afford to live in the city or my sports fees on her teacher’s salary alone. I shouldn’t even be here. I shouldn’t have crossed the fucking bridge and come to Manhattan, but I couldn’t stop myself. I needed closure as much as they did.

I made a two-and-a-half-hour commute to barely catch the priest’s words. He talked about the legacy my father left, his sons and their promise. But nothing about me. I guess that’s expected when you’re the bastard. A designation I had no choice in.

Is this all the closure I get? A half a glance, soaked through to the bone, as I stand far enough away to not get involved. I don’twant to be that guy or disrupt things for his widow. I wasn’t after causing a scandal, that’s not why I showed up here.

I’m about to leave but one of my brothers spots me. He stares in my direction with a sneer on his mouth. He’s the type of guy who spends more on a single shirt that I do on a month’s rent. But I still want to know them. I’ve always wanted to know them. Being an only child to a single mother is lonely. I’ve thought about messaging them so many times but now that they are about to find out I exist, all I feel is dread.

But it’s inevitable. They’ll find out about me in an hour when we’re all present for the reading of our father’s will. The call from his lawyer freaked me out. He said I was named in the will. I read online to know it’s probably only enough so I can’t contest it.

Which is fine.

I never wanted any of his money. I only want my mother taken care of, which won’t happen now. She’s already behind on bills since his death. I hope the money I do get will at least get her caught up and buy us time to figure things out. If I have to get a job, there’s no way I’m going to be able to keep playing hockey in the juniors, let alone work to help her and juggle college even if I get a full ride. And I need to play at least a couple of years of college hockey before I have even a hope of getting drafted.

I inch forward as the priest finishes his prayer. One of my brothers slips an arm around his mom. She’s crying and I can’t reconcile the two images of my father. How he was to my mother and how he must have been with his family. I hadn’t seen much of him, but what I had I didn’t like.

But I’m here, so what does that say about me?

What am I still doing here?

I should have left.

My brother leans over to whisper to someone while slipping their hands together. His husband? He’s wearing a ring. They look over at me again. I take a step back under their stare.

Why didn’t I bring a fucking umbrella.

I need to go. I can’t afford a cab and it’s going to take me an hour to get back to the lawyer’s office. I retreat and my brother’s eyes follow me all the way out of the cemetery.

I walk into the fancy law office like a soggy cat, catching a glimpse of myself in the wall of mirrors as I give my name to the receptionist. I shove a hand into my hair, steeling myself. Fuck ‘em. If they don’t like me, they don’t have to, but I’m not hiding anymore.

They are all sitting in a conference room when I’m shown in late. Who’s surprised the train took forever to get here?

“Great, we can get started,” the lawyer says commanding the room.

My brother’s glare follows me all the way to my seat. “What is the meaning of this? Why is this random guy here?”

The lawyer presses his lips together. “He was invited by me, Oliver.”

“Why?” my brother—Oliver—narrows his eyes and then it seems to dawn on him. Recognition dawns in his eyes and his mouth drops open. “Never mind.” His twin, Owen, elbows him and leans over to whisper something. He just shakes his head and scoffs. Everyone in their little group is staring at me.

“Now that everyone is present, let’s get on with it, shall we?” the lawyer asks.

No one makes a sound.

I cross my arms over my chest, refusing to look over at the lot of them.

“Great,” the lawyer mutters. “I was Mr. Godfreys’ lawyer for the last thirty years, as most of you know. I have his will here, and I’ve called you all together to formally go over his assets.”

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