The last line of the letter stopped me completely cold.
“Rhys still doesn’t know. Some truths fit better when you’re grown enough to carry them, and I trust you to decide what to do with this one.”
I called Wells from Grandma’s kitchen floor, not quite realizing how I had gotten there.
“You need to come,”
I said when he picked up.
“I found something.”
He was there in forty minutes. I handed him the letter without a word and watched him process something far too large to immediately grasp.
“Rhys,”
he said finally.
“Your Uncle Rhys.”
“He’s not my uncle,”
