Chapter 69

AIDEN

“Chow, you wanna talk?” Cillian thrust his hands deeper into his pockets, his shoulders stiff as he stared ahead. His jaw was tight, and though he wasn’t looking at me, I could see the tension rippling through him. His refusal to even glance my way ignited something raw and painful inside me. I opened my mouth to speak, but the weight of his silence pressed down, making it hard to…

“I know you’re angry,” I started cautiously, but he cut me off with a sharp, humorless bark of laughter.

“Angry!” He turned his head slightly, just enough for me to see the cold disbelief etched on his features. “That’s the fucking understatement of the year.”

His voice had an edge that made me flinch. This wasn’t just anger; it was betrayal, pure and unfiltered. I watched him clench and unclench his fists in his pockets, his control hanging by a thread.

“I’ve known you my whole damn life,” he continued, his words slow and deliberate, each one like a slap. “And I had to find out from your girlfriend about your past. A past that involves me. A past that involves my family. So no, I’m not angry. I’m fucking livid.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Freya shouldn’t have—”

“Shouldn’t have what?” He snapped, finally turning to face me. His eyes were sharp, accusing, and so full of hurt it was like staring directly into the sun. “Told me? So I could stay ignorant for a few more years? Do you think I’d prefer that?”

I swallowed hard, guilt choking me. “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “No, let’s be honest. You didn’t want me to find out at all, did you?”

When I stayed quiet, Cillian let out a short, humorless laugh, nodding as if he’d solved a puzzle. “Why?” he demanded, his voice cracking. “Tell me why. Because I don’t understand. Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me? Have I ever done anything to deserve this? Why didn’t you tell me!”

“I’m your brother,” he said, his voice rising on the last word. “Your own fucking brother.”

“I know,” I whispered. “I know you’re my brother, and I trust you. I trust you with my goddamn life.”

His anger flared again. “Then why the fuck would you keep something like this from me?” he shot back, his words grating on my nerves. I closed my eyes, trying to steady the storm of emotions raging inside me.

“Because I didn’t want to hurt you,” I snapped, frustration seeping in.

His expression twisted—hurt, disbelief, fury, all tangled together. “Hurt me?” he muttered, confused.

“After that incident, Preston forced her into rehab because he wouldn’t deal with her mess. She got over her addiction and tried to be a mother to you. I didn’t want to take that away from you. You love her, and she was good to you.”

“But she wasn’t good to you.”

He paused, clenching his jaw as he fought for control. “You didn’t want to take what away from me?” he demanded. “My previous relationship with our mother? You think I’d want anything to do with them if I knew what they did to you! After what she did to you—”

“That’s exactly why—” I began, but he cut me off.

“No. Just shut up.” His voice was quiet, but the simmering anger made it clear he wasn’t finished. “You think you were protecting my feelings by hiding the truth? No. This hurts more. To think you couldn’t confide in me, that you couldn’t trust me to be there for you…”

The raw pain in his voice, the anguish, melted my defenses. Hurting him was the last thing I ever wanted to do.

“All these years,” he said, his voice rising again. “I kept pressuring you, blackmailing you to come to stupid Thanksgiving dinners and birthday celebrations. I didn’t understand why you hated it so much. Do you have any idea how stupid I feel right now!”

Chapter 69

“I’m sorry,” I said, though it came out more like a deadpan statement. He knew me, and my emotional shortcomings.

He took a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair as he turned back to the sea. “I want to know everything,” he said after a long moment. His tone brooked no argument. “From the very beginning.”

I nodded, defeated. “Okay.”

“We’re going to my place,” he said firmly, already walking toward the parking lot. “I’ll grab some coffee on the way.”

I fell into step behind him, my hands shoved deep into my pockets to hide their trembling. “I’ll need something stronger than that,” I muttered, mostly to myself.

He didn’t respond, but I could feel the tension between us, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation, but I owed him this much—owed him the truth, no matter how much it hurt.