Brothers of Paradise Series

“My brave girl,” he murmurs.

“And none of it matters, anyway. My family… Your family… we’ll figure it out,” I say fiercely.

“Of course it matters,” he says. “It just doesn’t change anything between us. And baby, your dad did talk to me, but it was no excuse for me leaving like that.”

“You were a boy. And you were scared… it’s perfectly understandable. I had forgiven you even before I found out about Dad’s interference.”

Hayden lies back on the bed, his hand playing thoughtfully in my hair. “I didn’t think I was good enough,” he says softly. “But it’s no excuse for leaving.”

“But you are! You always have been.”

Hayden grins, and it’s the first true smile I’ve seen from him in what feels like forever. “I’m not, but it’s okay. I’ve stopped trying to be noble. I’ll be here, loving you, for as long as you let me.”

I kiss him, and he groans into my mouth, tucking me into the curve of his body. His lips are soft and gentle against mine. I want to keep going, but he breaks it off, smiling against my ear.

“No more,” he murmurs.

“No more what?”

“Excitement. There has been entirely too much of that these past few days.”

I chuckle against his ear, so glad to have him here, to be close to him, to be able to run my hand through his thick hair. There’s nothing like the warmth of his skin against mine and the faint scent of his soap.

“I agree.” Tiredness threatens to undo me, pulling at my eyelids. I stifle a giant yawn. Hayden pulls me closer and I rest my head against the crook of his neck. His chest rises and falls strongly under my arm, an anchor in all the chaos.

“Tomorrow,” I murmur, “we should talk to your uncle.”

“About what?”

“Us. It’s not fair that he’s the only one who doesn’t know.”

Hayden’s chuckle is a soft whisper against my hair. “Oh, he knows, baby. He’s known forever.”

Hayden

Ralph Cole is buried in August, under the hot midday sun, in a quiet service attended only by close friends and family.

I’d debated for a long time if I should go or not. It didn’t feel right to attend an event to honor his life-not when I knew there’d been so little honor in it. There had been nothing but hatred in my heart for him for so long.

But as it turns out, going to his funeral didn’t have to mean I forgave him. It was Lily who told me that.

“Just because you go doesn’t mean you condone what he did,” she’d said, her tone matter of fact, one day when we were painting her new gallery. “It can be for you to say goodbye. To close that chapter of your life. Maybe to ensure you have no regrets later on. It only means what you want it to mean, Hayden. He’s gone. You do what you need to do-for you.”

She was right.

And now I’m standing at the back of a small church, a tie chafing around my neck, with Lily next to me. Gary didn’t want to come.Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

The framed picture on his coffin looks like a stranger. The image is nearly twenty years old, my father healthy and smiling with the wind in his ink-black hair. Lily had smiled immediately when she saw it, and I know why. I can see the resemblance myself.

But for the first time in many years, it doesn’t scare me. I might be my father’s son, but I’m also my mother’s, and Gary’s. My father doesn’t define me-not entirely, at least.

There are only a few other people in the church, and none I recognize. It’s not surprising. Dad’s lifestyle wasn’t exactly conducive to long-lasting friendships.

I feel hollow when the priest concludes the service. It was short and to the point, much like Dad had been. In part, I feel relief, like a vice has loosened around my heart. Like I’ve put down a burden I’ve been carrying for a very, very long time.

Lily slips her hand into mine. “Do you want to stay?” she murmurs. “For the reception?”

I look around at the handful of people in black gathering their things. “No. I don’t want to make small talk about him.”

“All right.” There’s no judgement in her gentle tone. “I think the people here know who you are, regardless.”

“They do?”

She shoots me a soft smile. “I’ve seen a few of them glance at you, yes. Your hair, Hay… it’s pretty clear who you are.”

I reach up and run a hand through it self-consciously. I’ve let it grow. I guess I resemble the old man more than I thought.

“Well, they can guess all they want,” I murmur.

We’re out of the church and halfway to the parking lot when a voice stops us in our tracks.

“Wait!”

A girl runs toward us. Her dark hair goes down past her shoulders and unusual, wide eyes stare at us. She can’t be more than eighteen.

She just looks at me.

“Hello,” I say finally. “Can I help you?”

She nods once, a jerky movement, but when she opens her mouth to speak, no words come out.

Lily offers her a kind smile. “My name is Lily,” she says. “This is Hayden. Were you also at the service for Ralph Cole?”

The girl nods again. “Yes. Yes, I was… You’re Hayden Cole?”

“I am.” An unspeakable emotion comes over me, looking at her. At the familiar set of her cheekbones and the faint curve of her mouth. It takes effort, but I manage to soften my face into an expression I hope looks welcoming. “And who are you?”

She swallows. “Stephanie Cole. You’re my half-brother, I think?”

The ground goes a bit unsteady under my feet.

“Stephanie…” I repeat. I’ve never heard of her. Not once. Not through Gary, not through Dad’s sporadic texts. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“I’ve never heard of you.”

She flinches, as if I’ve said something harsh. “Well, I mostly grew up with my mother. I didn’t have much contact with… with our father.”