“I wish you’d have told me.” I rose on unsteady legs. His back was still to me, and I had a feeling he preferred it this way. “Or Dylan. Someone. We wouldn’t have stolen his bottles. We thought no one noticed. I can’t believe I caused this.”
His shoulders trembled with bitter laughter, and he slid his Henley back down, spinning in my direction. Molten amber eyes met mine.
“You didn’t cause s**t. You were just teenagers doing teenager stuff. He’d have found something else to get pissy about and hit me. I mostly managed to keep him away from Mom and Dylan—not always from Mom. She had to tolerate some abuse.”
“And Dylan?” My voice was brittle, crisp, a crunchy autumn leaf under a boot.
He shook his head. “I don’t think she knows. We did a great job, and he worked long hours, disappearing
