The Winchester brothers sat outside, drinking beer and looking at the sky. It was late, and lots of stars were shining, but they couldn’t really compete with the lights of the city far below. Each had its own kind of beauty.
They didn’t talk much. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, though.
Dinner had been good, a much-needed family gathering. It had been Jessica’s idea to have everyone over. Since she’d been out of the hospital only for a few days, Reece tried to talk her out of it, but she had insisted. As soon as they were all together around the table—him, Rowan and Raine, plus their dad, Aunt Sharon, and, of course Jess—he’d felt a strange sensation. It had taken him a second, but then he’d recognized it as contentment.
At that moment, he wasn’t thinking about the past, or worrying if it would catch up to them. Looking around the table at his family, even if it was missing a few long-gone members, Reece was happy. More, he was looking forward to a future with the beautiful woman who had burst into his life with her bouncy ponytail all those weeks ago.
“Hold on to her,” Rowan said, as if reading his mind. “She’s special.”
He smiled and lifted his beer. “You have no idea.”
The three of them clinked bottles, the only sound in the quiet night. His dad and Aunt Sharon had left. Jessica had gone to bed. Now it was just the three of them.
It was time.
He hadn’t stopped thinking about what Steve had said and what brilliant Jessica had recognized as so critically important. He was on the porch, calling after him. He was fine.
It had been six long years. All three of them had kept their secrets, not even sharing them with each other. Reece and Rowan had thought their brother was a killer, and had covered for him anyway. They’d done him a disservice, and they both needed to apologize to him. And Raine had absolutely no idea.
So yes, it was time. Everything had to come out. The brothers had to be honest with each other at last. After that, working together, they would find out the truth about the past.
“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers together over his chest. “Let’s talk about the night Harry Baker died.”