She tears her arm from my grasp. “You’re his brother!” she accuses. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” Her chest is rising and falling fast. Her indignation is battling against her hurt. But neither one is really aimed at me. Not truly.
“I think the better question is, why didn’t he tell you?”
“He… he told me he has nothing to do with his family anymore,” she says defensively. “Based on what I saw on that video, I can finally understand why.”
“You saw two minutes of our lives,” I tell her coldly. “Don’t presume that you know anything.”
“And I was eight,” I reply. “What’s your point?”
She draws in a pained, rattling breath and lets it back out. “Who was the bully offscreen?”
“That would be our dearly departed father.”
She stops short, her eyes darkening with shock as something regist
