James doesn’t know what he expected to feel when he saw Phil. The rage that coursed through him when he’d seen his older brother covering Aimee would have been logical. As would the terror that chilled his veins when Phil put a gun in his face and ordered him to swim as if his life depended on it. Thank God he’d been running marathons since college and had been training for a triathlon. He never would have survived. James would also have understood animosity. It was because of who and what Phil is that he suffered through countless conditioning sessions with his father. Edgar Donato had successfully beaten the bitterness toward Phil into him and Thomas.
But he certainly hadn’t anticipated remorse. Phil never asked for his parentage, and he never wanted anything more than to be considered a respected member of the family. He tried on several occasions to slip into the big-brother role and James had scoffed. The less he interacted with Phil, the less chance he’d make the mistake of thinking of him as a brother. It kept his lower back welt-free.
The man Phil is today is the man his family molded him into. All the extra bits—his anger, violence, and maliciousness—is the armor he wore not only to survive in this family but to let them know loud and clear exactly what he thought of them.
“Hola, amigos.” Phil toasts his drink at them, then waves a finger at James. “You know exactly what I said. I hear you spent six years in Mexico. I knew you liked it there, but seriously? That’s over the top.”
“What do you want, Phil?” Thomas demands before James has the chance to.
“What do I want?” Phil looks at them both. He takes a slow drink and settles deeper in the couch. “Nothing. With you.” His gaze narrows on James.
“Then why did you have us come here?”
“He didn’t. I did.” Claire walks into the room like the regal matriarch she is.
“Welcome to family therapy, Donato-style,” Phil jeers. “It’s a grand fucking family reunion.”
“Do shut up, Phillip.” Claire sits on the couch across from him in a flurry of multicolored silk. She smooths the tunic over her legs. “Dr. Brackman will be here in thirty minutes. He’s a family therapist, and comes highly recommended. I flew him in this morning.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Thomas yanks off his blazer and tosses it over the back of a chair. His words and tone echo James’s sentiments exactly. Thomas rolls up his sleeves as the jacket slides to the floor. He crosses the room to the wet bar.
“Thomas, really, your language.” Claire straightens the toss pillows beside her. “Your father passed over seven years ago, God rest his soul, and we haven’t sat together as a family since. I was not fond of his position on many things, or his methods. We need to discuss this. It’s been forever since we talked.”
“Forever is too soon.” Thomas pours himself a scotch, downs it, and refills his glass. He raises the bottle and a brow at James.
“No, thanks.” James picks up Thomas’s blazer. A billfold falls from the pocket. He folds the blazer over the chair and takes the billfold to the window.
“I have some things to say, Thomas, and you’re going to listen.” Claire’s tone is a mother’s order. “I never agreed with how your father treated Phil. He’s your brother. But I loved your father just as much as I loved your father, Phil. I adored my brother—idolized him, if you must know. He wasn’t around much while I was growing up because he went to boarding school, then away to college. When he came home, though, there was a connection. We both felt—”
“God, Mom. Stop!” Thomas slices his hand through the air. “I don’t think any of us want to hear that. I sure don’t. What I do want to know is where the hell you were when Dad was beating us?”
Behind James, Thomas continues to lob questions and his mother complains. Why can’t her sons get along? Why do they keep hurting each other?
Because there’s too much history. They were never encouraged to treat each other with respect. In fact, quite the opposite.
James opens the billfold that holds Thomas’s DEA identification. Why is he not surprised? His role in exports with Central and South America put him in the perfect position as the government’s eyes and ears. Hiding in plain sight, as Thomas once told Carlos.
Outside the window is the crescent of Hanalei Bay. People dot the resort’s beach like paint speckles on a white canvas. While he can’t see it, he knows toward the far end of the bay is Natalya’s house, tucked behind the palms. She’s there with his sons, waiting for him.
He wants to be with them more than anything, especially as the tension between his brothers and mother escalates. Their voices rise, each trying to talk over the other. He knows they must accept and move past how they’ve treated each other. But right now, his sons are his priority. He wants to build a life for them, here in Kauai. He also wants a chance to get to know the woman who remained at his side, even with the knowledge he’d one day forget her. They are his ohana.
But his heart is heavy, and he still isn’t sure he can return the love Natalya freely gives him. He wonders if he’s entitled to another chance with his sons after everything he’s put them through. He’s made too many mistakes over the years.
He grips the taut muscles in his shoulder and slides his other hand into his pocket. His fingertip snags on Aimee’s engagement ring. He holds the diamond solitaire to the light. The platinum band reflects a distorted view of the room behind him. As he watches Thomas argue with Phil and their mother, everything clears.
Had Aimee told him last week she wanted to file charges against Phil, he would have done everything in his power to make sure Phil received the justice he deserved. He’d still do it. Instead, Aimee forgave James for how he’d handled the situation. She’s moved on.
How can he do the same? He’s made too many decisions he regrets. Despising Phil during their youth when he should have loved him as a brother. Lying to Aimee for too many years. Not trusting Thomas to handle the situation with Phil. And following Phil to Mexico. That’s his biggest mistake. One that cost him everything, and one that he can never turn back from.
He isn’t sure he can accept these mistakes, which make him think of the letter from Carlos. The words run through his mind and in between the lines he finds the answer. While he does need to forgive those who have wronged him to move on, he needs to forgive himself above anything else.
“He practically bankrupted Donato and tried to murder James,” Thomas bellows at their mother. “You expect me to carry on as though nothing happened?”
“What’s done is done. We’ve lost too much of ourselves already,” Claire pleads.
“I saved James,” Phil defends.
“That’s bullshit!”
“He’s right.”
Three sets of eyes turn to James. Phil grins. Thomas’s jaw comes unhinged. “You remember.”
“I’ve been remembering bits and pieces for a while now. But, yes. I remember.” James fists the ring. “I’m alive today because Phil warned me to swim and when to jump. There was another guy on the boat. He’s the one that shot me.”
Disappointment twists Thomas’s face. He stares at the white shag carpet, hands on hips. “Are you absolutely sure it wasn’t Phil?” he asks after a long moment. “What about the back room at the bar? Did you hear or see anything?”
“I didn’t see a thing, and I didn’t hear anything about Fernando Ruiz or the Hidalgo cartel that would have helped your case, if that’s what you’re asking. They put a sack over my head and made me into their punching bag as they asked questions about the DEA’s investigation, of which I didn’t know much. I wasn’t of importance to them. That’s why they dumped me.”
Thomas’s shoulders sag and his face contorts into a masterpiece of regret. He’d never had to keep James hidden.
“Actually, I did witness something of importance.”
Thomas lifts his face, his expression expectant, eager almost.
James looks at Phil. “At the risk of his own life, my big brother saved mine. Why, Phil? Why didn’t you shoot me?”