Page 183 of Pull Me Under

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘For what I said at the hospital. For telling you to get out. For—’ He stops. Breathes. ‘I was angry and I didn’t know what to do with any of it, so I aimed it at you. That wasn’t fair.’

‘No. It wasn’t.’

He flinches. Good. He should.

‘But I understand why you did it,’ I continue. ‘Your whole world had just collapsed. Everything you thought you knew about your family, about your mother – it all turned out to be a lie. And then you looked at me and saw someone else who’d kept the truth from you.’

‘For one day.’

‘You didn’t know that.’

‘I should have asked.’ He finally looks at me. His eyes are red-rimmed, exhausted. ‘I should have let you explain instead of assuming the worst. That’s what Dad would have done – jump to conclusions, burn bridges, refuse to listen. And I just … did exactly the same thing.’

‘You’re not your father.’

‘I acted like him.’

I can’t argue with that. Don’t want to.

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘You did.’

He takes it. Doesn’t flinch this time.

‘So what now?’ he asks.

I look at the house. At the red door, the yellow curtains, the family inside trying to stitch themselves back together after twenty years apart.

‘I don’t know,’ I admit. ‘A week ago I came here because I didn’t know where else to go. I spent all my childhood wishing I had a sibling. Someone to be with, instead of being—’ I blink back the stinging in my eyes. I refuse to cry. ‘Alone.’ I grind my boot into the pavement. ‘And I thought maybe if I found your mum, found the truth, it would be something. Better than sitting in that empty cottage waiting to see if you’d ever come looking for me.’

‘I did look for you, Brynn. Regardless of how irrationally cross I was, this ache settled in me, and it had nothing to do with Dad, Mum, any of it. It was you. This joy you’ve sparked back to life within me began to fizzle and die without you there. And…’

I hold my breath as he pauses.

‘This thing you lit up in me started going out without you there. And honestly, sleeping rough in that death-trap cottage of yours is the most at home I’ve ever felt. I’m not going to pretend otherwise.’

‘Good. Because I’m not interested in pretending.’

‘Neither am I.’ Another step. ‘I’m interested in figuring out if there’s still something here. Between us. If we haven’t completely destroyed it.’

My heart is doing something complicated. Hope and hurt, all tangled together.

‘There’s still something here,’ I say carefully. ‘But I don’t know what it is yet. And I don’t think you do either.’

‘No,’ he admits. ‘I don’t.’

‘You’ve got a lot to deal with. Your mum, your sister, your dad⁠—’

‘My dad can wait. Tom’s checking on him.’ Jude’s mouth twitches. ‘He’s practically a doctor.’

‘He’s a vet.’

‘Same basic concept.’

I almost smile. Almost.

‘I can’t promise I’ll never mess up,’ he says. He’s close now. Close enough that I can see the exhaustion in his face, the days of not sleeping, the weight of everything he’s carrying. ‘But I can promise I’ll try. And when I do mess up – because I will, I’m a Harding, it’s basically genetic – I’ll listen. I’ll let you explain. I won’t just…’ He gestures vaguely. ‘Burn the bridge.’

‘That’s a low bar.’