Page 213 of Sins of Innocence

Her smile seems strained, but it turns genuine when Joy announces for the umpteenth time she's Joy Veseli. All the girls want to show their aunt their new school I.D.s. She puts the sparkling beverage on the coffee table so she can examine each with the attention it deserves.

"Makes me want to change my name to Veseli too, so we're all the same," she jokes.

"Not gran," Sadie says. "She's still a Dougal."

"I'm still a Dougal too," a familiar voice I never thought I'd hear again says from the doorway.

Mom gasps, her expression going slack with shock.

I turn to see who it is because it can't be the man it sounds like. For several long seconds my brain refuses to understand what my eyes are seeing.

Brady. Older. Eyes almost identical to mine but showing no emotion at all.

Alive. My brother is alive.

I want to stand up, run to him, touch him to see if he's real. But my limbs move like they're stuck in treacle.

Mom stands, her knitting slipping from her hand and falling to the floor. "My boy. Is that you?"

"It's me," Brady says and grimaces like something about that statement bothers him.

What?

Finally, I manage to stand up, but mom is already rushing across the room. She touches Brady like I want to, assuring herself he's not a ghost.

Like they call Kieran. Only my husband is solid and here.

So is Brady.

How?

"Where…how…what…" Mom doesn't finish a single thought.

"When they told you he was dead, he'd been taken captive. The CIA didn't plan to get him out and letting his family believe he was dead was their answer," Ellie says bitterly.

"You've been in captivity all this time?" I ask, pain ripping through my chest at the thought.

With no one looking for him?

Brady shakes his head. Ellie scowls.

But Kieran answers. "When he got released as the result of a different op, he didn't know who he was and the CIA wasn't going to tell him."

It's strange having my husband of few words explaining what my brother went through when Brady used to be the consummate storyteller.

"When did you get your memory back?" I ask, willing my brother to talk to me.

It won't be real until he talks to me.

"Two years ago."

"But…"

"He didn't tell us he was alive because he'd been playing assassin and he thought his life was too dark to touch yours." The words make sense.

My bestie's hostility doesn't.

Except she's very protective of me, mom and the girls. She probably takes it as a personal affront my brother let us keep grieving his death instead of telling us he was alive.