[This post is from Bryant Tapping’s point of view.]
“Me,” David said quietly. “At least—at least, that’s my guess.” He swallowed hard, then cleared his throat. “I’m—never mind. I’m Aoife O’Credne’s son.”
“Grey Miller’s your dad,” Lin said, his gaze bouncing between David and his companion. “Right?”
Bryant leaned against the doorframe, watching as Isabelle’s fingers tangled in David’s and squeezed. His throat tightened momentarily and he wondered what was going through David’s head right now this second. He hadn’t met anyone he was related to by blood—not yet, anyway—since they’d left home.
I don’t know what I’d do if I was him. I wouldn’t know how to feel, what to think.
David smiled wryly. “I’d ask how you knew who my dad was, but I’m guessing—I’m guessing there were at least a couple stories.”
Lin nodded. “A couple. Our parents only met him that one time when he and Aoife came looking for Uncle Phelan.”
“They never came back for good reason,” his companion murmured, then shook himself and took a breath. He crossed toward David’s bed and held out his hand. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be like that. I’m Tory. Neve’s my mom.”
David took his hand and shook it, watching Tory’s face. Bryant watched them both, trying to ignore the tension that coiled his own muscles like a spring.
There was something in the look the two young men shared that put him on edge and it seemed that it was for no good reason at all.
“Of course it would be here,” David murmured into the sudden silence as he continued to stare up at his cousin. “Why didn’t I realize that sooner?”
The only person in the room that didn’t look surprised by the words was Lin, who just stared on with a distance in his eyes but a sad, knowing smile curving his lips.