Page 134 of Into These Eyes
“Heliveshere? What the fuck, Jamie? Have you lost your mind?”
“He’s my housemate.” Is that what he is? That sounds so wrong, so cold and detached.
“More like fuck-mate,” Anika spits. “What’s wrong with you? You hate his guts!”
I shake my head. “No, not anymore. I’ve screwed up, Ank. I should have told you sooner, but I didn’t want to upset you or disrupt your training.”
She looks into my eyes, and she must see something there that takes the wind out of her anger. Shoulders slumping, she asks, “What crazy shit’s happened now?”
“Let me get changed, and I’ll explain everything.”
Grabbing my phone from the kitchen, I turn it on and hurry into my room. As I change, a surge of notifications ping from my phone. Before I face Anika, I quickly check them, seeing I have three missed calls from her, then a message stating she’s on her way and a few more asking why I’m not answering.
And there’s one last message.
Gavin: Take as long as you need.
Smiling, I pocket the phone. The sooner I sort this out, the sooner he can come home.
Home.
My gut hollows, remembering Anika’s demand that he leave. I wonder if he feels like he even has a home anymore.
Steeling myself with a deep breath, I walk into the kitchen to find my sister sitting at the breakfast bar, a bottle of white wine on the counter with two full glasses waiting. The sight is so unusual, I have to remind myself that she’s not a kid anymore. Knowing her, she’s probably been getting drunk every weekend while at the academy. She’s always had a wild streak in her I’ve never possessed. Or had I been denied the chance to develop one?
I stand on the other side of the breakfast bar so I can face her. When she slides a glass of wine across to me, I take a sip, then a deep breath.
“Dad told me something earth-shattering just before he died,” I say, hoping to prepare her for the shock.
“What? That he couldn’t give a shit about me? I already know that.”
“Jesus, Ank. He loved you. He just—” I stop myself, hearing Gavin’s voice in my head.Your rules. No lying.“I honestly don’t know what was going on with him when it came to you. It makes no sense.”
She blinks in surprise. “Wow. No molly-coddling bullshit? That’s a first.” Taking a gulp of wine, she screws up her face and forces herself to swallow. “Whatever he said must’ve been some jaw-dropper.”
“Yeah, it was …is.” I take a deep breath. “Right before he passed, he told me … he killed Mum.”
Completely frozen, she stares at me. And I wait. I know all too well how difficult it is to digest this news. Then she slaps a hand on the counter and laughs. “Good one, Jamie.”
She’s in denial. I’ve never been one to joke. At least, not about something this serious. When I don’t crack a smile or look away, I watch it sink in.
Face slack with shock, she takes a long gulp of her wine. “Seriously?”
I nod, lean on the counter and tell her all the details of our father’s dying declaration, of tracking down Gavin, of taking Liam’s statement detailing what he saw that night and how it matched Gavin’s story. Then I get out my laptop and sit beside her, my arm tight around her, feeling every emotional reaction in her body as we watch our father’s video.
“Fuck. Holy fucking fuck,” she mutters when we get to the end.
“That’s about the extent of it,” I agree.
Suddenly, she’s out of her chair and hugging me. I hold her for a long time as I run a soothing hand over her back.
“And you dealt with this all on your own?” she asks, the remorse thick in her words.
“Actually, no,” I admit, wanting to unburden her of the guilt she doesn’t deserve to carry. “I had all the support I needed.”
When she plops herself back on her stool, she takes a swallow of the wine she clearly hates.
“What’re you feeling?” I ask.
