Rhys pulled away from me so fast he fell backward. He scrambled to his feet and stared down at me, words of denial already forming on his lips. His eyes, however, conveyed a different emotion. He knew, maybe not consciously, but a part of him knew the truth.
“My brother’s name is Caleb,” I went on as if nothing had happened. “He was two months old when he died suddenly in his crib. Or so everyone believed, except for our mother. She tried to tell people that the dead baby wasn’t hers, but they dismissed her as a grieving mother.”
I tugged the blankets tighter around me. “I was born later, so I never knew Caleb. Whenever Mom and Dad talked about him, it made them sad, so I tried not to mention him often.”
“You were unhappy?” Rhys asked.
“No.” I sniffled quietly. “I had a very happy life
