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Nine years earlier

——-

Peter’s P.O.V

“Do you know why you’re here, Peter?”

My fingers shift in my lap, knuckles aching with how tightly I clench them. I nod.

“That’s good. I told Julian I didn’t want you to feel blindsided.”

I shift a little but stay quiet and so does he.

“But I don’t want us to have this conversation if you’re feeling uncomfortable.”

More silence.

“You can come over here if you want to.”

Lifting my gaze for the first time since Dad had left us alone, I look at Uncle Mickey, meeting his kind brown eyes.