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Ollie watched his uncle, still confused as to what they were doing here or where they even were. Eamon’s face had become hard, and that cocky easiness that usually emanated from him was all but abandoned right now. Ollie’s curiosity was piqued, but he kept quiet to let Eamon talk when he was ready.

“See that window there?” Eamon pointed to a second-floor window that was dark, its curtains drawn.

Ollie confirmed he did.

“That was your mother’s bedroom.”

Ollie was taken aback. “Are you sure about that?”

“Of course I’m sure about it. I lived here too,” Eamon replied with a bit of anger.

“Sorry, I just…I’ve never been here before. They wouldn’t tell me where we lived. Where I was born. I didn’t know.” That it was this bad , he didn’t add on.

But they both knew what he meant.

“Aye.” Eamon nodded solemnly. “Victor never wanted you to see this place. And then of course, your grandparents didn’t, either.”

“This is where I’m from,” Ollie said, almost with wonder.

He became fraught with emotion. Not because it was such an impoverished home, but because it was his history.

His roots. They had followed him, haunted him his whole life.

But he had never set eyes on the place he’d been born, or where they’d lived once their mother had passed and they’d had no home.

Ollie looked around. “It looks a bit familiar now,” he admitted. “But I couldn’t point anything out to you.”

“Allow me, then.” Eamon grinned. He led Ollie a few buildings down and then crossed the street. He pointed toward a terrifying alley. “After your mum died, this was where we all slept.”

Without hesitating, Ollie took several steps into the alley. There were putrid rubbish bins everywhere, as well as more horse dung, and he swore he saw a few rats scurrying about.

He stared down the expanse of darkness and tried to imagine a baby, a toddler, here. He tried to imagine Victor, much younger, forced to take on the role of parent and watch out not just for Ollie, but Dantes too.

The gang of boys made a whole lot of sense. Protection in numbers.

“How old were you?” Ollie asked, still staring down the alley. “When we were all here?”

Eamon stepped forward to join Ollie’s side. “Victor and I are the same age. So, whatever that was.”

“I was four when my grandparents found us.” Ollie tried counting in his mind. “I mean, when Victor told them where we were, to get me away from you. That means Victor was fourteen.”

“There you go, then,” Eamon replied.

Strange noises caught his attention, and he noticed some shadows moving in the dark. Immediately, he felt embarrassed, realizing it was two adults grunting against each other. “Come on, lad.” Eamon pulled him away. “You ready to return home?”

The thought distressed him. “No.”

“I want to show you one more place, then.”

A bit later, Eamon led Ollie off another tram, but this time, they had to walk several blocks.

Now, they were in a rather affluent area of the city.

It wasn’t where the titled aristocrats lived, like where Ollie had grown up after leaving Whitechapel, but it was very nice.

There was no rot, and none of the buildings sagged or leaned.

The streets were clean. The gas lamps gleamed. Nothing painted was chipped.

Eamon paused at a house and Ollie studied it. Again, he didn’t recognize it. But he did notice on the sidewalk a toy had been left outside by accident by whatever child slept comfortably inside. It was a small, wooden horse on wheels with a string to pull it around.

Ollie swallowed, beginning to suspect where they were.

“You know where we are, don’t you?” Eamon asked gently.

Ollie clenched his teeth and could only nod. Guilt, of all things, rendered him silent.

“This is where your brothers grew up.”

“Until I came about,” Ollie added with bitterness.

This was the house where his family had been happy. His father had been alive. His mother had been, too, and not yet addicted to laudanum. His brothers had had all the food, all the clothes, all the warmth they could ever want. They had been safe and loved here.

And then his father had died, spiraling their mother into grief, out of this neighborhood, and into Whitechapel. In the midst of this grief, Ollie had been born. The delivery had been difficult and she’d been given laudanum.

Their lives had proceeded to fall apart, and the rest was history.

Of course, he had never seen this house before, either, but this time, he understood why.

Victor and Dantes wouldn’t have wanted him to see it—they were bitter toward him.

It was because of him that their mother had been given the laudanum that would kill her.

He also knew they would deny this if he asked.

And maybe, they truly believed they didn’t hold her addiction and death against him.

But how could they not?

His existence had killed her.

And Victor had been left in charge while mourning the loss of everything in his life.

Ollie had always known this had had a profound, lasting effect on Victor especially.

But until now, he had never been able to truly appreciate the stark difference between the two lives Victor had lived.

The happy first life Victor had had here, and the darkness that followed him forever after their mother’s death.

“What was it like then? For my family?” Ollie hazarded the question.

Eamon was quiet a bit longer. “I don’t know.”

Ollie looked over at Eamon and frowned. “What do you mean?”

Eamon chuckled with bitterness. “We Lydons weren’t allowed here.

Once your mother and father married, she was whisked away and there was always some excuse why we couldn’t come see her.

” There was another pause. “Then of course, she needed us once your dad died. She lost this house, and she was about to have…” Eamon hesitated and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well. She suddenly wanted family. But most were gone. And then soon, I was the only one left.”

“The men at my wedding, the boys from Whitechapel. They spoke Irish.” Ollie tilted his head. “Do you, too?”

“Aye.”

“Do my brothers?”

Eamon looked away. “Nah. Your parents didn’t want you all to learn it. They wanted you to fit in. Though after living in Whitechapel, I’m sure your brothers could understand a conversation, or partly understand it, if they overheard one. But they can’t speak it or write it.”

Ollie was overcome by the strangest feeling. As if he had realized there’d been an emptiness within him for his whole life, but he was only finding it in his soul right now.

“Why did you agree to start seeing my mother again? After she ignored you for so long?” Ollie asked. There was a thought beginning to form in his mind, but it wasn’t clear yet. But this question seemed to be going in the right direction.

“Because she’s family,” Eamon said with a shrug.

“Lots of families have shite people in them. But to me, family is important. She needed help. I couldn’t do much, as I was a wee lad myself, but I did what I could.

And I wanted to be around her again. She was all I had left after our parents had died and everyone else had moved away.

See, Ollie?” Eamon gave him a sad smile.

“You and I aren’t so different, once you look beyond the surface. ”

“Family,” Ollie replied, the thought sharpening. “But we don’t have much of that, do we?”

Eamon let out a heavy sigh, shoved his hands into his pockets, and looked up at the nice house. “No, we don’t. And I hardly had you boys, either. I’m a criminal, Ollie, don’t forget. Your brothers rightfully kept you away from me.”

A surge of emotion punched through Ollie’s heart. “It wasn’t their decision to make.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I don’t blame them for it.

But also, they seem to forget you’re not a child anymore.

You’re more than old enough to decide that for yourself.

Granted, being an adult is more than age.

But, within the last year, I’ve seen myself how much you’ve grown.

Maybe they couldn’t see it. Maybe they didn’t want to.

” He paused a long while. “Anyway, once you three left, I had no one. Or so I thought. But I discovered I did still have family in Whitechapel. You met them at your wedding. Well, the fake one I guess, unless you count…” He pointed up toward the sky.

“And can I admit to something? I knew you’d find out eventually that I forged the license.

I didn’t plan on keeping that from you forever.

But I kind of hoped it would make you two see reason. ”

“See reason?” Ollie asked in an unamused voice.

Eamon grinned. “That you do want to be married to each other!”

Ollie frowned at his uncle but thought back to the men who’d witnessed the wedding.

He’d thought they had been there simply to be witnesses.

But now, he realized that to Eamon, the wedding had meant something.

He couldn’t actually get Ollie and Evelyn to marry each other, but he’d done everything he could to nudge them in that direction, believing they loved each other and it would be right for them.

Though it had been done in the man’s own utterly mad way.

Ollie had to admit he was incredibly touched.

“Thanks,” was all Ollie could say. “Maybe, in a way, I wish it had worked.”

Eamon seemed to understand and clapped Ollie on the shoulder, trying not to let his mouth quiver.

Though Ollie did feel bad his uncle had put forth all that effort and it wouldn’t end up the way he had hoped.

What do you want? That question repeated over and over in his mind. And he stared up at the house Victor and Dantes had grown up in, the one they should have stayed in.

He finally understood there would always be an otherness about him. A wall between him and his brothers. Yes, they were family, but despite spending his life following them around, they would never be Victor, Dantes, and Ollie. It would always be Victor and Dantes, and then Ollie.

All Ollie had ever wanted was to be accepted, loved, not seen as the baby brother born during a devastating time. But he would never get what he wanted, what he needed, from his own family.

But like Eamon had said, family didn’t have to be blood.

Evelyn could be his family. After all, he did love her. He loved her brilliant mind. He loved her passion about art. He loved her beauty, her smile, her thick red hair, her troublesome curiosity.

Ollie swore out loud when a rare, brilliant thought pounded like a headache. He knew exactly what to do to keep Evelyn in his life forever. Or at least, what gave him the best chance.

“What is it?” Eamon asked, but he grinned ear to ear as if he already knew.

Letting out a loud, heavy sigh, Ollie replied, “I need to go speak to Victor. Right now.”