Chapter 67

“Freya,” Cillian’s voice drew my attention from the puppies tumbling in the park.

“Hex,” I stood from the bench, brushing imaginary dust from my jeans. “You wanted to talk. What is it?”

“You know something.” The wind whipped against my face, raising goosebumps on my skin.

“About what?” I asked, striving to keep my voice steady under his intense gaze.

“My brother’s past. His childhood.” His words were sharp, deliberate—like iron. My instinct was to play dumb, but the heat in his stare left little room for pretense.

“You know something I don’t.” He sounded certain, convinced he was onto something. I hadn’t seen this coming.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” I forced out a chuckle, hoping it would mask the hammering in my chest.

“Don’t be. That day—I saw him stop you from blurting something out.” He had seen Aiden grab my hand. My throat tightened as I searched for an escape.

“Tell me. What is he protecting me from?”

The intensity of his voice unsettled me. I deflected. “I didn’t realize this was an interrogation.”

“It wouldn’t have been if my brother trusted me enough to share things with me. But he doesn’t.” His hurt was palpable.

My jaw clenched. “It’s not a matter of trust.”

“Then what is it?”

I hesitated. How much could I say without making things worse? “You should talk to him. Ask him what you want to know.”

“Oh, he’ll tell me everything! You think I haven’t tried for years?” His bitterness hung heavy in the air. “This isn’t a conversation you should be having with me.” My voice wavered. It wasn’t my place.

“I just need to know what happened.” His desperation twisted my stomach. “I know our father was bad to him. I know he was abusive, but I don’t know the extent of it. It drives me crazy—why the fuck does he project all that anger toward Mom?”

His voice rose, escalating my frustration. He was missing the point entirely.

“It’s not—he doesn’t,” I muttered, my words feeling weightless.

“He does. Aiden doesn’t say a single nice thing to her. He’s awful to her. He can’t bear to look at her. For fuck’s sake, she was a victim, too!”

Anger prickled my spine.

“He didn’t visit her after her surgery, even after I told him she was asking for him. Why?”

My control snapped. “Because she ruined his fucking childhood!” I spat, the emotion overwhelming.

Cillian flinched but didn’t look away.

“She isn’t just a victim,” I continued, the words tumbling out. “She’s a selfish woman who cares for nothing but herself—not even her child. That may not sound like the mother you grew up with, but that’s the mother Aiden got. So no, he can’t bear to look at her face or say nice things to her.”

I was breathless, fury coursing through me.

Cillian shook his head, his denial stubborn. “No. You’ve got it wrong. Dad was the bad guy. He was abusive, and he had an affair. But Mom was innocent. She wasn’t—”

“She was an addict,” I cut him off, my voice sharp.

“She was an alcoholic. But she went to rehab,” he argued, his conviction waning.

“She did drugs. And her addiction almost got Aiden killed. That story about robbers? Bullshit! Your mother’s drug dealers beat him to a pulp. Your mother didn’t call 911 and let him bleed for a day because she was afraid of getting arrested.”

The words hung heavy. I hadn’t realized how much this had festered inside me until I yelled it out.

Cillian stumbled back, as if struck. “What?” His voice was a whisper, his face pale and stricken. I realized my mistake instantly. I’d let my emotions cloud my judgment. I shouldn’t have said anything.

“It can’t be. Why wouldn’t he tell me? Why wouldn’t Aiden tell me?” His face was a mixture of confusion and betrayal. I closed my eyes and breathed out.

His confusion cut deeper than his anger, and guilt gnawed at me.

“Because this wasn’t the mother you grew up with. He was trying to protect your feelings,” I said softly.

“Fucking feelings!” he said with a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. He looked to the sky, his chest heaving.

“Cillian, you should come home with me. I’ll call your brother,” I offered, hoping they could talk.

“No,” he snapped, his voice cold and final. “My brother can go to hell! Everyone can go to hell!”

I flinched at the venom, but before I could respond, he was gone, his car roaring away.

I stood frozen, the weight of my mistake crushing me. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. What the fuck did I do?