I slidea bottle of water over to Graham, where he’s sitting at our dining room table. The rest of the guys, including Shelby and Maddy, are all hanging out in the living room doing a horrible job at pretending not to be eavesdropping.
“Thanks.” His lips tilt up, but the weak smile only makes him look more uneasy.
The longer I’ve had to sit with this, the steadier I’ve become. Insecurities are firmly back to buried, shock has faded, and I’m left with an overwhelming curiosity. About the hazel-eyed, moppy-haired kid in front of me. Kid-brother.
“Do you have any questions…?” I have a million, but he’s the one who showed up wanting to talk.
He rotates the water slowly in his hands, gaze glued to the unopened top. “I, um, have seen your name show up a few times on letters mailed to our house.” He picks at the paper wrapper on the bottle. “It’s kind of weird to see handwritten letters by someone you don’t know. And multiple of them.”
Perceptive kid.
“Dad always got cagey when I asked him who the heck this Shane Michaels was writing to him. So, when I noticed one come in a month or so ago…I took it before Dad saw.” He looks up at me. “I read it.”
Ah. The one I’d written when I was on a high, having been called-up to Triple-A. How was that like a month and a half ago? My last-ditch effort at getting my father to notice me. Well, it got an Ackerman to notice. Just a different one than I’d expected.
“It’s true?” he whispers. “I couldn’t find anything to say one way or the other. No previous marriage records.”
I glance toward the living room, and my gaze clashes with Jed’s. He shifts forward, like he’s going to stand. My tension settles. I nod discreetly.I’m all right. For now. He settles back against the couch but doesn’t take his eyes off me.
“Yes,” I say slowly. “I’m not about to whip out a birth certificate to prove it to you. But yeah. Tyler Ackerman is my father. Mom and Dad never married. They had me in their senior year of high school.”
He nods awkwardly. “Yeah. No. Um. Not asking you to prove it. Your reaction back there kind of said it all. It was like you’d seen a ghost when you set eyes on me. And I’m well aware I’m the spitting image of Dad.” He laughs stiffly. “I actually thought it was, like, drugs or something. Because of how he reacted whenever I asked about you. The way he got angry, irrationally so, and avoidant. He’s usually really put together, but it’s the only time I’ve ever seen him unsettled.”
His voice cracks, and he quickly clears it. “I started digging. Because I was nervous about the drug thing. Turns out Shane Michaels isn’t some drug dealer, but a hot-shotminor league baseball player.” His gaze drops to the table. “One who grew up in the same town my father grew up in.”
“I mean, Shane Michaels is a pretty popular name. Don’t count out a drug dealer yet.”
He snorts out a breath, and his gaze flicks up to mine. There’s a soft glimmer there, penetrating the sadness. But then it flickers out.
“Why do I have a secret brother?” he whispers. “After I read your letter…the only conclusion I can come to is that my father is nothing like I thought he was. That he’s a horrible man.”
I wince. Woof. This just really took a turn. He’s looking at me with puppy-dog eyes, pleading with me to correct him. To tell him I’m not proof that the dad he probably hero-worships is actually the starring villain in this play.
“Listen, Graham…”
“Just say it like it is,” he rushes out, his voice edged with a soft plea. “I want answers.”
I blow out a breath. It’s not easy for me to talk about this, and to know it’s going to crush the kid sitting across from me? I’d rather take a line drive to the cup. Maybe.
A beer is placed in front of me. I glance up and lock onto a pair of midnight irises. Five seconds tops, but it’s an entire conversation. It’s anI’ve got you. AnI’m here for anything you need.He squeezes my shoulder and walks back to the living room. I hope he can hear my silent thank you.
I turn back to my brother. “I don’t know why, Graham. I don’t know why our father is the way he is. All I know is he got Mom pregnant in high school. Went to college so that he could”—I air quote—“be better suited to provide for our family. Senior year, he gotyourmom pregnant. That Christmas was the last time he was home. He married herand never looked back. Not just didn’t look back, but ignored every letter I ever sent him. He wrote us out of his life and moved on with your family.”
Graham’s face is sheet white. “Mom and Dad said they started dating sophomore year,” he says hoarsely.
A huff of laughter bursts from me. Of course. “I have no idea why he kept us on the side. I can’t imagine we were a contingency plan. We were poor as shit. Nothing like your mother’s family.”
I’d love to say it was because he hadn’t wanted to leave me—his fucking toddler son. But obviously, he proved that to be untrue.
“You, um…” He swallows hard. “You said he wrote you out of his life. Does that mean he didn’t pay your mother any child support?”
I choke on a laugh. Child support? Support in any shape or form? What a fucking joke. Graham looks like he’s going to be sick, so I try to tone back my deranged amusement. “My mother didn’t have the means—money or time—to pursue a child support order. She worked two jobs and had me to take care of.”
“I don’t understand.” His words are so hopeless, ragged with defeat. “It’s not like we didn’t have the money. And he’s always been a family man. It’s a point of pride to him. The Ackermans are always seen together. Family vacations. Attending his work functions together. Making sure we were front and center for every interview. And I know he talks about us. His business partners always know about my and my sister’s latest accomplishments.”
“That’s not a family man.”
We both jolt; our attention snapping to Jed.
