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The flat is eerily calm and I suspect that Daniel had enough of my brother’s antics and left.
But that’s not the case.
Jay is sleeping on the sofa, his limbs flailing in all directions.
Daniel is on the floor in front of him, and his shirt sleeves are pulled to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms. His tailored jacket that must’ve cost a couple thousand dollars is currently being used by Lolli as a pillow.
He doesn’t seem to care that it’s covered with hair, though, because he’s way too focused on Jay’s textbook. I’ve only seen him this concentrated on work-related stuff.
I must make a noise, because he starts to lift his head. “What’s this bollocks they teach kids these days…”
He trails off when his eyes fall on me. He takes me in from my feet, slowly dragging his gaze up to my waist and stomach, then lingers on my breasts before his eyes clash with mine.
They’re dark blue—a dangerous blue that makes me squirm—something I haven’t done for over a decade.
“Our education system is different from the American one,” I say in a hopeless attempt to disperse his attention.
“Everything is different here—bigger, louder, and less stuck-up than in London.”
“I still miss it. London.” I don’t know why I say it, and I resist the need to fidget under his scrutiny.
“Why did you leave it then?”
My gaze silently flits to Jay.
“Right. You were running away and still are apparently.”
Not knowing how to reply, I go to the kitchen, grab two beers, and offer Daniel one.
“I assume you don’t have premium whiskey here,” he says while examining the can of beer with distaste.
“You should be thankful there’s even beer.” I sit across from him, tucking my feet underneath me.
“That dire?”
“Don’t pity me.”
“I have a lot of twisted emotions toward you, but believe me, pity is not on the list.”
I gulp a mouthful of beer, sinking my nails into the can. I want to ask him what those feelings are, but I can’t.
Not after I said what I said on the balcony.
“I couldn’t raise Jay in England,” I whisper, reverting the subject back to my brother. “He…was neglected by his father to the point of abuse. He got asthma from the conditions he was kept in. So when social services came knocking on my door, I couldn’t say no. He was a few months old at the time.”
“That’s why you dropped out of Cambridge.”
It’s not a question, but a declaration.
“I had to use the rest of my trust fund to raise Jay, so I couldn’t afford Cambridge anymore.”
“You could’ve asked Uncle Henry for help.”
A ball the size of my fist clogs up my windpipe. “Uncle Henry hated Mum more than he hated the devil.”
“But he didn’t hate you.”
“Yes, he did. He couldn’t even look at me after she was arrested. I reminded him of her and it hurt him. It’s why I avoided his advances. I couldn’t just ask him for help to raise another child my mother gave birth to.”
