“Got it.” I nod. If I hadn’t overheard their discussion, I’d have been certain she’d lost her mind.
When I stood outside the conference room, frozen in thought, the pieces of that conversation assaulting me were about the book of information, the name Balzano, Axel making a deal, and of course the mention of the fire and that Jax and I belonged to someone else. But the panic-stricken edge to Ivy’s features has my brain snagging on a piece I must have tried to tuck away.
“Jax and Rena are as good as dead if they ever find out they’re his.”
As good as deadmakes diving into this all the more perilous. Especially when no one is being forthright with me.
My bedroom door cracks open, and Celeste peeks her head in. “I stalled them as long as I could.” That’s directed at Ivy, so there’s my answer about whether or not she was in the room. A silent participant is still a participant.
Two hours ago, I was on cloud nine—a guarded princess finally noticed by the coveted knight in shining armor. Now, I feel so freaking alone.
Swinging inside, Celeste holds her arms out to me. “Come here. It’s only been a couple of weeks, but I’ve needed my Rena fix.”
I bound to my feet and hug her. “Don’t give Axel and Ryker’s insane authoritarian bullshit any credence. Weren’t we going to start Wine Wednesdays?”
She hedges a half second, which would’ve gone unnoticed in the past but infuriates me now. “Of course. Let’s do it. Maybe youcould all come. The guys could do their thing, and we can down a bottle of cabernet and swap smutty reads.”
“Merlot,” Ivy chirps.
“Either sounds perfect,” I say, releasing her. “Or both. I drink anything, and I’ve been searching for a strong story full of lies and betrayal.”
“Oh, yes.” Ivy glows, springing to her feet with her diaper bag packed and Felicity in her arms. “Dark romantic suspense. I have some on my TBR. I’ll text you options later.”
They’re giving me nothing. Well, not nothing. Ivy gave me that phone, and Celeste was obviously involved with arranging the delivery.
But … they know.
They know what Axel meant when he said Jax and I are someone else’s, and they’re privy to whatever deal he made—or at least the catalyst for it. They could fill in some of the holes, but they aren’t. Until I understand thegood as deadaspect and talk to Jax, I need to tread lightly.
Ivy and Celeste scurry out to the main living area, so I follow along, hoping I can pull off a nonchalant vibe. Another part to play.
Axel’s gaze lands on me, and without hesitation, he saunters my way, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and planting a kiss in my hair.
Axel has been everything to me. Both parents. Big brother. My hero.
It’s not surprising that he’d hide something to protect me. I get that. It’s who he is. And definitely who Ryker is.
But if the deal he made is concerning the fire that killed my parents, I don’t know what to do with that. My father wasn’t a good man. I have very few memories of him spending time with us, and I’ve heard plenty of terrifying rumors. But my mother—my mom was an angel, who loved us all fiercely.
There’s no way.
What if she’s not even my mother? Axel said Jax and I weresomeone else’s—Balzano’s from what it sounded like, whoever that is. That’s bad enough. But my mom—I can’t even go there. Actually, there was that tidbit about my parentsfinding out, so that couldn’t be about my mom because giving birth is pretty cut and dry.
My heart crumbles to pieces. Our life has always been woven with secrets. But this is unknotting the fabric of who I am.
I need Jax.
Lifting my face to Axel, I smile as authentically as I can. “Are they staying for a while? I didn’t know they were coming, and I told Tessa I’d tune her guitar.”
Tessa and I swap talents. She pierces me and I give her music lessons. It’s the best reason I can think of to storm Jax while he’s working. As I mentioned before, there are always eyes on me.
“They’re staying at least until dinner.” He winks. “Go spend some time with Tessa. I’ll text you if you need to return.”
“Great,” I say, sneaking out with only a wave to our company.
A sharp pain lances my empty lungs. I’ve never had a panic attack, but I think this might be the start. Depression—thatI’m experienced with, especially the type that has me doing whatever the hell I can to skirt it. Maybe that’s what’s ensuing, but it’s never hit quite so vigorously. I’m plummeting.
The elevator dings the second I enter the hallway, and when the doors open, my breath hitches with a whistle. It’s Ty.
