Secrets. This family didn’t have secrets. Not in the way that tore them apart, at least. Just because Basil had been left out of a pertinent conversation (that no one outside of their dead father and Anthony knew about for good reason, and even Anthony wasn’t meant to be a part of it), didn’t mean he had a right to know. Not even Mama knew and that in itself was a feat. She knew everything that happened in her family, immediate or extended, and if she had any inklings that he was keeping something as hefty as this from her, Viola Foxwood just might murder him.

Heaving a sigh, Attics reached forward to grip onto his brother’s arm to keep him from wandering off. “I don’t want to bug Anthony!” He snapped. “He’s doing perfectly fine having a conversation with the young lady he has been talking about all night!” Although he doubted anything would come from it, at least their cousin finally had enough courage to approach her after she’d politely informed him her dance was full.

“If you want answers, then you need to start asking.” He barked and gave him a tug toward one of the benches a bit further off from where some of the others stood. Privacy. If Atticus was going to tell Basil anything, which he hoped wouldn’t be the case because he never wanted to talk about the whole ordeal again, he wasn’t going to have anyone overhear him.

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