He watched Brady process, and then Brady sighed, put the papers down, and leveled Tanner with a look.
“Hoo, boy. More than ever, I wish Mom was here to explain this one,” he said.
“You think?” Tanner muttered, raising an eyebrow.
Silence followed. The two men looked at one another, not saying a thing, but you could tell there was a conversation happening. Jake cleared his throat, and Brady snapped out of whatever he was thinking and looked between Jake and Tanner, sighing heavily.
“I don’t know what to say to this, you know?”
“Nothing. There is nothing to say. You arestilla West,” Tanner cut in, and stood. His temper had finally won, and he was mad. He flexed his hands, glared at the papers, then grabbed his hat and shoved it onto his head.
“Got shit to do,” he muttered, and strode out of the room.
Brady watched him go and let out another deep sigh. He slouched, leaning against the desk and leveled Jake a tired look.
“So I guess this explains why I’m not a tall, dark-haired tornado like you two,” he said, a smile flicking across his face before it fell, his eyes darting out the window. Jake followed his gaze, watching Tanner angrily jump onto a tractor with a hay-bale spike on the front and ram it into gear, heading toward the hay shed, dirt from the big knobbly tires churning up behind him.
“You okay?” Jake asked.
“I will be, yeah. Truth? I always wondered,” Brady replied, and stepped around the corner to his brother’s recently evacuated chair, sinking into it.
Liz walked in just as he did and looked between them. She put her hands on her hips.
“Who pissed off Tanner this time? He’s currently spiking round bales and moving them from one side of the storage shed to the other for no apparent reason. He only does that when he’s really mad,” she said, humor in her voice. The smile on her face vanished the moment her eyes met Jake’s.
Jake shook his head at her and handed her the papers. “This.”
She raised her eyebrow at him, looked down at the page, and gasped, her eyes then flying to Brady.
“Brady. Is this—”
“Yep. Brett isn’t my dad. Got any theories on who it might be?” Brady interrupted, raising his eyebrows at her and sticking his tongue out over his bottom lip.
“You’re taking this awfully well,” Liz shot back, and tilted her head. “You knew, didn’t you.”
“No, not one hundred percent. But I’ve suspected for years. I mean, look at me!” he said, and gestured at himself. “I’m not a slightly less weathered copy of my dad, like these two meatheads. Me? I’m the weird one.”
“You aren’t weird,” Liz muttered, and set the papers down, coming over to Brady and leaning over him from behind, circling her arms around him. “You’re my adopted baby West brother, no matter what some stupid piece of paper says. You’re also still the smart one.”
At that, he chuckled and patted her joined hands. “Yup. I’ll agree to that.”
Jake, thankful for Liz right then, nodded at that statement and picked up the test results. He opened the bottom drawer of the file cabinet and dropped them into the file markedInheritance Mess. He’d deal with what this meant later.
He was wondering how much more his brothers could take. This was yet another straw on the proverbial camel, which Brady considered the horse he’d ridden—Sandy—to be, and he shifted, stiffness invading his legs. Yesterday’s insanity seemed far away and inconsequential now.
How did you deal with finding out your dad isn’t your dad? Jake had always known who his father was, proven now by the testing. Brady had been lied to his whole life. Maybe Brett had been lied to as well? If Brady had always wondered, did others?
This family was one big mess. Him included.
“All right, then. Moving on. If I’m not a true West, then when paperwork gets signed back over, it will be under Tan only, right?” Brady said, and stood, snapping Jake back to the problem at hand.
“No. This place is as much yours, man. Listen, I’m going to call Frank and ask why he didn’t give us a heads-up about this. I’m surprised, unless he never bothered to look, assuming the tests would be the results we expected. But who knows. We’ll work it out.” Jake was grasping at things to say to make it sound like it was okay. It wasn’t, not by a long shot.
Brady nodded and put a hand on Jake’s shoulder as he passed him, heading toward the door. “You’re a good man, New York. Thanks,” he said quietly, and then left the office.
Jake pulled Liz into him and circled his arms around her. She put hers around his waist, chin on his chest, and looked up at him. He looked down, into her eyes. She looked worried.
“This is . . . I don’t even know what to think or say about this,” Liz said.
