Watson stepped beside me.
“You told us Rowan died.”
Mom tightened her grip around the gift bag.
“Not now. Let’s do this later, when the backyard isn’t crawling with teenagers.”
“No,” I said. “Let’s do it now.”
The noise from the backyard faded.
Riley reached the patio door first.
Rex appeared directly behind him.
“Mom?” Riley asked. “What’s going on?”
Watson’s voice cracked.
“Boys, this is Rowan.”
Rex stared at the young man in front of us.
“Our brother?”
Nobody moved for several seconds.
Rowan lowered his eyes.
“I didn’t come here to take anything from you.”
Riley stepped closer, visibly restraining himself from immediately throwing his arms around him.
“You’re not taking anything.”
Rowan’s jaw trembled.
“I spent my whole life thinking I was the one nobody could keep.”
“No,” I said. “That was never true.”
Mom began crying.
“You were falling apart, Dawn. Two babies at home, bills, machines, no sleep. I arranged the funeral because you couldn’t look at the tiny coffin.”
My stomach turned.
“You told me not to,” I said.
“I wanted you to remember him happy. Not like that.”
“You put his framed baby picture on a sealed coffin and said Rowan was too fragile to view. But it was empty.”
“I was protecting you.”
“No. You were hiding what you’d done.”
Watson wiped his face.
“We buried an empty box because you decided grief was easier to manage than truth.”
Mom looked toward Rowan.
“I found you a good home. Parents who loved you before they met you. They had money. They could focus just on you.”
