Page 27 of Finding Storm

“Who told you?”

That’s Jake. I’ve never heard him speak so quietly before.

My eyes laser onto him. “Does it matter?” I snap.

“It wasn’t—” Jake takes a step toward me.

“Don’t”—I point a finger at him—“fucking come near me.”

He stops. He looks contrite. Guilty.

I hate him in this moment.

And Tom.

And Denny.

I hate all of them.

Mostly, I hate myself for being so fucking stupid.

“We should have told you,” Tom speaks quietly, a voice I’ve never heard him use before. “You shouldn’t have heard it from anyone else. That’s on us. We fucked up.”

I laugh. With zero humor. “How very fucking gracious of you.”

“Storm …” Den says low and with warning. He always did have that parental tone down pat.

I slice my eyes to him. “Fuck you. I’m not a kid anymore. So, don’t talk to me like one.”

“Storm, just listen …”

My eyes whip to Jake. “Why the fuck should I? I was supposed to be able to trust you. You were supposed to be my family—”

“We are your family,” Tom cuts me off, sounding pissed.

And that’s like a hot poker to my rage.

“Like hell you are!” I roar. “Families don’t fucking lie to each other! Keep important secrets from each other, like how Jonny knew I existed! That he was coming for me that night!” Grief catches in my throat. And I get annoyed that I’m fucking moments away from breaking down.

I suck in a harsh breath.

“Families don’t keep important shit from each other, so you don’t get to call yourselves that anymore.”

“Storm, it wasn’t … you were just a kid … when I found out the truth, your mom had just died, and I didn’t want—”

“Fine,” I cut Jake off. “You didn’t want to tell me while I was going through shit. I get that. What about all the years after?”

The silence is deafening.

Jake’s eyes sweep the ground before coming back to mine. He sighs, dragging a hand through his black hair. “There … was just never a right time.”

I laugh a hollow sound. “Never a right time? Funny that. Because I was with you every fucking day! All of you! And not once did one of you think to say, Oh, Storm, just so you know, the guy who knocked your mom up—you know, the guy you thought didn’t know you existed—well, actually, he did! And he died, coming to see you!” I’m yelling now, and I don’t care.

“We fucked up. Okay?” Tom says quietly.

I round on him. “No! It’s not fucking okay! And to hear it from a fucking journalist …” My hands go to my hips, and I look at the floor for a moment, gulping in some air.

I feel like my head’s going to explode. I just can’t believe this. Any of it.