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“What do you want me to say?” “Nothing yet,” Henry said. “I want you to think about it. And then I hope you will choose to trust me. Because I’m overfull on secrets and underfed on friends.”
Henry Cheng
Ronan picked angrily at his leather wristbands. He was reminded precisely of the dream he’d had only days before. “I thought you said this story was about me.” “The spear, Dad told me, was him.” Declan looked at Ronan. “He told me to make sure Ronan was the name of the hero, and not the name of just another spear.” He let the words linger. On the outside, the three Lynch brothers appeared remarkably dissimilar: Declan, a butter-smooth politician; Ronan, a bull in a china-shop world; Matthew, a sunlit child. On the inside, the Lynch brothers were remarkably similar: They all loved cars,
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Brothers
