Page 161 of Pull Me Under

‘Brynn?’ Kit’s gaze sweeps across me, big brother concern, and shameless reading between the lines in the expression on my face. ‘The woman you’re in love with? The one you were telling me about when⁠—’

‘Yeah.’

Kit stares at me. ‘Of all the women in Cornwall. Of all the women in the entire world. You picked a Trelawney?’

‘I didn’t pick anything. It just happened.’

‘Things like that don’t just happen.’ Kit runs a hand through his hair. ‘Dad must have been thrilled. No wonder he had a bloody heart attack.’

‘That’s not funny.’

‘It’s not meant to be.’ Kit shakes his head. ‘A Harding and a Trelawney. Wow. Do you have a death wish?’

I don’t say anything.

‘Where is she?’ Kit asks. ‘Brynn. Why isn’t she here?’

The question lands like a stone in my gut.

‘I told her to leave.’

‘You what?’

‘After Dad – after he said what he said.’ I stare at my hands. ‘She was standing in the doorway and I could see it on her face. She already knew. About Mum and her father. About all of it.’

Kit’s quiet for a moment.

‘How long had she known?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t let her explain.’

‘You didn’t—’ Kit stops. Rubs his forehead. ‘Jude. You didn’t let her explain?’

‘What was there to explain? She knew the truth about our family and she kept it from me. She lay next to me every night knowing what her father did to our mother, and she never said a word.’

‘Like Dad kept it from us?’

The words land like a slap.

‘That’s different.’

‘Is it?’

‘He lied for twenty years. She⁠—’

‘Kept a secret for how long? A few days? A week?’ Kit shakes his head. ‘I’m not saying she was right. But there’s a difference between decades of deliberate deception and someone struggling to find the words to tell you something devastating.’

‘She had plenty of time to find the words.’

‘Did she? Or did she spend that time trying to figure out how to tell you without destroying you?’ Kit looks at me, and there’s something in his face – not judgement, exactly. More like recognition. ‘I know what it’s like to carry something you can’t say. To wake up every morning thinking, Today I’ll tell them, and then finding a reason not to.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Jess’s diagnosis. I knew for three days before I told anyone. Three days of smiling and pretending everything was fine while inside I was—’ He stops. Breathes. ‘Dad found out. Asked why I hadn’t told him immediately. And you know what I said? I said I was trying to protect everyone. Give myself time to process before I had to deal with everyone else’s reactions.’

I don’t say anything.

‘Maybe that’s what she was doing,’ Kit says quietly. ‘Maybe she was trying to protect you. Or herself. Or both.’