Okay here's the next chapter. Not too happy with the ending, might go back and fix it. Hope you're enjoying it so far. Oh and Aoife is pronounced E-fa, for all you non-Irish people out there :). Any questions, you know what to do!

Chapter 2:

The hour and a half car journey back to Dad's house in La Push, the Quilette reservation was surprisingly not awkward. We had a lot to catch up on and even though trying to get information from him was like trying to draw blood form a stone, we got on pretty well. He told me a little about the reservation and his job as an IT consultant in Port Angeles. I could tell that was one part of his life he was very proud of - not many Quilettes completed their education and the ones that did were usually content to get a job on the rez. It was also the only thing about himself he seemed happy to talk about. Mostly he asked questions, and I answered and tried to get information from him, without much success.

When we got to his house, he dropped me off with my bags, saying he had to get some milk in the shop. I thought it was kind of odd that he wouldn't even show me around first but I shrugged to myself and let myself into the house, which was left unlocked as he'd said. I should have known then. Who leaves a door unlocked when there's nobody home and goes away on a 3 hour round-trip? I left my bags just inside the door and moved soundlessly through the house, exploring. It was nice, all modern deco, but not exactly homely. Weird that I would think that, I'd never had a home in my life.

"Who are you?" a dark voice suddenly said form behind me.

I whirld around, caught off guard. My body instantly panicked, before my mind could even comprehend what was happening. A life of moving into strange neighbourhoods, being the new girl in some not very nice schools, and not a few creepy boyfriends of my mother had taught me to trust my instincts and to react. By the time my mind had caught up, I had turned completely around and skittered back 3 metres so my back was against the wall. My eyes had taken in the exits: a door to the left of the speaker and a window on the wall to the right of me. Only then did I look at the man who'd snuck up on me. Tall, dark and well-built, I almost mistook him for Jacob for a split second. But his muscles weren't quite as weel defined, despite the fact he was wearing no top, and he was a couple of inches shorter. Then my eyes took in his features, which were somehow familiar; dark, heavy eyebrows, a strong jaw, and a straight nose. He looked a few years older than me, maybe 27 or 28. He was pretty good looking, but I didn't find him attractive. He was too familiar looking, and there was definitely anger bubbling there under the surface, which didn't help settle my pounding heart. At the moment he looked surprised, although whether it was me or my reaction to his question I couldn't tell. Which reminded me, I stood up straight and stepped away from the wall, changing my body language and expression to one of cool confidence, even though my heart was thudding in my chest and my hands felt clammy.

As long as he isn't a murdering burgular, I'll be fine, I thought, grinning mentally, which settled me down.

"I might ask you the same question," I replied calmly. He looked almost impressed at my change in demeanor.

"Sorry didn't mean to scare you," he said, as if speaking to a dim-witted child. My chin jerked up immediately in response and my voice was frosty.

"You didn't." We both knew I was lying but I wasn't going to back down on this. If there was one thing I hated, it was being treated like a child. I had taken care of myself my whole life and he had no right to talk to me that way. I glared at him, refusing to break eye contact. He stared back for a few minutes before a mocking smile spread over his face as he closed the space between us and stuck his hand out.

"Paul Lahote at your service," he paused. "Your in my house." My head spun. Another man living in the same house as me? That sort of seemed like information I should have been given! Assuming he was telling the truth, and I thought he was, that would make him what? He had the same surname as my Dad, so he was what relation to him? His nephew? Did he have a younger brother? I couldn't remember. Or Son? Could this man be my brother? There was certainly a strong enough family resemblence between him and Dad.

But Dad would have told me wouldn't he? I realised I hardly knew my father, what would make me think he wouldn't do this?

Although my thoughts were swirling, my face remained a careful mask and I reached for his hand, wondering why he hadn't recognised me. Was he just not expecting me yet? Was it possible he hadn't known of my existance as I hadn't known of his? If he lived here as he said, how could he not know his housemate (whatever their relationship) had a daughter who was arriving from a country 3,000 miles away today?

"Aoife Murphy," I replied, using my mother's maiden name as I had my entire life. His skin made contact with mine and I almost yanked my arm back in shock. His hand was so warm! It felt as if he had a fever, despite looking perfectly healthy otherwise. His face showed no recognition to my name. So he didn't know my name, didn't recognise me and didn't seem to be expecting anyone. Hmm, more investigation needed. "So that makes you Brian's -?" I questioned, my face and voice still emotionless.

"Son," he answered brusquely, his face darkening when I mentioned his father's name. I briefly wondered why before I registered his words. I have a brother. A BROTHER. Well a half-brother, I assumed, but still! How hadn't I known this before? He was obviously older than me, although the closer I looked the younger his face looked. Still a good few years older than me, I decided. Why hadn't I known about him. I know I didn't have a close relationship with my Dad but this is ridiculous! And where was his mother? Was she still around? Am I basically bursting in on a family? I shuddered at the thought.

"Now, would you mind explaining to me what your doing here? If you were going to nick the telly, now would be a good time to leave," he added, only half joking. I hesitated. Did I really want to be the person to tell him I was his sister? I didn't even know the guy. Well it's not like I have much choice, I thought wishing Dad would hurry up with the milk. I racked my brains, but no good excuse would come to mind and he would have to find out eventually. It might as well be now. I took a deep breath and explained in a rush.

"I'mmovinginheretodayI'mBrian'."

"Whoa," he laughed, a beautiful happy laugh that didn't fit in with his anger and huge body. It was like a memory of a time gone by. "Slow down! Can you say that again but a bit slower?"

I looked at the ground and then squaring my shoulders looked him in the eye.

"I just moved here," I explained simply. The rest could come later.

"To La Push you mean?" he asked.

"To here," I gestured to my surroundings. He continued to look puzzled. "Into the house".

His expression froze, then he burst out laughing. I continued to look at him with my expression calm and under control until he stopped.

"You can't be serious."

"I am."

"You can't just decide to move into someone's house," he started laughing again. I decided it was time to be honest, if just to stop him laughing at my expense.

"I didn't decide. I didn't even want to come," I admitted. I hesitated. "My mam died so the courts sent me here to live with my dad."

"Your dad?" his face looked puzzled now.

"Yes. Brian's my dad too." I watched him apprehensively as he absorbed that. First he looked confused. He was staring at me and as the truth slowly dawned on him, his face went white and then filled with anger . This really upset him. I mean he got so angry he started to shake! I know I might not be the easiest person to be around but wasn't this a bit of an overreaction? Okay yeah, I wish Dad had told me I have a brother but what can I do about it? What's done is done.

Apparently Paul didn't have as philosophical an outlook on the situation. He was still shaking, and I could almost see the clogs of his brain turning.

"How old are you?" he spat at me.

"Sixteen," I replied smoothly. "And yourself?" His expression changed briefly to one of astonishment at my my apparent lack of fear in the face of an angry giant. I've faced a lot worse. My mam always had money but that didn't stop us living in the roughest parts of town, where used needles, guns, hookers and gangs were just part of daily life. A little anger wasn't going to scare me.

"Eighteen," he practically growled. Now it was my turn to be shocked. Eighteen? Was the guy on steroids or something?

"Hmm, never thought I'd have an older brother," I remarked. I wasn't really aiming the comment at him, more thinking aloud.

"So you knew nothing about this either?" he asked, his shaking slowly stopping.

"Not until you said you're Brian's son. I guess we have different mother's, yeah?"

He hadn't thought about that, I could see. As he thought, his anger returned in full force.

"Your sixteen?" I nodded. " That means my parents were still together when you were born," he glared at me as though it were my fault Brian decided to have sex with another woman when he was married to Paul's mother. I told him as much, which might not have been the greatest idea given his current state of mind but I'm not the type of person who holds back. That's got me in more than one fight over the years.

He reacted as expected, more glaring, more shaking. The shaking got so bad, he was almost vibrating. It was as though he was going to burst out of his skin! With one last look at m, he ran out of the room, and I heard the back door slam. Less than a second later I glimpsed him sprinting towards the forest which came within a few metres of the back porch. Wow could he run fast! A few moments later a wolf, which he must have disturbed with his crazy running, howled nearby. I shivered thinking how close the animals got to my new home.

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