And then they’d met Patricia Farrell and her daughter, Danielle, and all of Danielle’s children. And when they were hungry, Danielle had come ’round with extra food she happened to have cooked. And when Ms. Tricia saw Will walking himself home from school because Mum was out working one of her two jobs, she’d said, “Well, that’s no good. You might as well take the bus with us, boy.” And when Dad had come sniffing around one night, drunk as always and furious with his wife for finally leaving, Danielle had come outside in her dressing gown, holding a kettle like a weapon, and said, “The police have been called. And if you don’t leave before they arrive, I will personally bash your brains out. That’s a promise.”

Mum and Danielle had been best friends after that.

And Will had been one of the Farrells. All of a sudden, he’d had access to a house where there was always an adult around, and that adult was always sober. He’d had boys to play with who didn’t point out the holes in his shoes. He’d had a mother who, for the first time in years, smiled more than she cried.

And he’d had Abbie. He’d always had Abbie. And he’d always wanted more of her.

“You didn’t want to fuck up the family?” Jase echoed, incredulous. “I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean, because there is definitely nothing you could do to make you any less family to us.” Like all Farrells, he said this incandescently brilliant thing very quickly, in a very bored voice, and moved immediately on. “So what you’re trying to tell me, William, is that you’ve been into Abbie this whole time? You’ve been running around, starring in soaps, and sleeping with supermodels—”

“It was one supermodel, and she was a very nice, very persuasive woman.”

“—winning Sexiest Arse Alive, and my sister’s been running around getting married, and the whole time you’ve been in love with her, and you just … haven’t … done anything about it?”

“I have done things about it. I got a good job, and I saw that therapist about my low self-esteem and childhood trauma or whatever, and I tried to see Abs every Christmas and I never missed her birthday—”

“I should bloody hope not,” Jase muttered, “since it’s my birthday.”

Will decided to ignore that. “I’ve done plenty about it, considering she was married for five years. Not to mention, there was that time when we—” His brain caught up with his mouth there, and he shut himself up.

“When you what?”

“Nothing.” That information was private, and while Will didn’t bother to keep private things from Jason, Abbie certainly did.