“Love you,” his mate murmured against his hair.
“Love you too.”
Sleep tugged at Zack’s eyelids, that heavy contentment that came after mind-blowing sex and being held by someone who actually cared. Colton’s breath tickled the hair at his temple, steady and warm.
“Blue?” His mate’s voice rumbled against his back. “Need to tell you something.”
Drowsiness evaporated. Something in that tone made Zack’s stomach tighten, not quite fear but close enough. Rolling over took effort when every muscle felt like melted butter, but he managed it, studying Colton’s face in the morning light.
“Grayson ran the information on that guy from the diner.” Colton’s palm settled warm against Zack’s hip, thumb stroking in small circles. “Got a name. Flynn Dunkin.”
Dunkin. The same last name stared back at him from his driver’s license, from every piece of mail, from the signature he scrawled on receipts. Air stuck in Zack’s lungs, refusing to move in or out. His mouth opened, but no words came.
Just silence while his brain tried to process what couldn’t possibly be real.
“He’s your half-brother,” Colton said gently. “Same father, different mothers.”
Everything inside Zack went still. Not calm. More like the moment before glass shattered, when cracks spread but nothing had fallen apart yet. Flynn’s nervous energy at the diner suddenly made horrible sense. The way he’d watched without approaching, ordered coffee he never drank, fled like something was chasing him.
Half-brother. Another person who shared his DNA, his father’s blood. After Craig, after everything, the universe had apparently decided to throw him one more curveball.
“How?” The word scraped out, barely audible.
“Don’t have all the details.” His mate’s hand moved to Zack’s back, rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades. “Just what Grayson could dig up from public records.”
Public records. Legal documents that proved his father had another son out there, one Zack had never known about. Had Dad known? Had Mom? Or had Flynn been some secret buried so deep even death couldn’t unearth it?
Memories of Flynn’s face surfaced—thin features, sandy hair, that rabbit-quick nervousness. Nothing like Craig’s cruel confidence. Nothing like Dad either, at least not obviously. But maybe in the shape of his jaw, or the way his fingers had drummed against the table...
“It’s your choice if you want to make contact,” Colton said, voice careful and neutral. “No pressure either direction. Just thought you should know.”
Choice. Such a simple word for something that felt impossibly complicated.
Part of Zack wanted to track Flynn down immediately, demand answers to questions he hadn’t even formed yet. Another part wanted to pretend this conversation never happened, that his family tree hadn’t just sprouted another broken branch.
Craig would’ve hated this. Would’ve seen Flynn as competition, as another person to control or destroy. But Craig was gone, couldn’t hurt anyone anymore, and maybe that meant Zack could actually decide something for himself.
“I don’t know what to think.” Honesty felt safer than trying to sort through the tangle of emotions knotting up his insides. “He looked terrified at the diner. Like he was about to bolt any second.” Which he had.
“Probably was.” His mate’s fingers found a knot of tension between Zack’s shoulders, working it loose with gentle pressure. “Takes courage to show up like that, even if he couldn’t follow through.”
Courage. Zack hadn’t thought of it that way, but Colton was right. Flynn had come to the diner, sat in Zack’s section, tried to make some kind of connection even if fear had won in the end.
That took something Craig had never possessed.
Vulnerability.
“What if he’s like Craig?” The question slipped out before Zack could stop it.
“Then you walk away.” Simple as that in Colton’s world. “But from what Grayson found, no criminal record. No complaints. Works at a bookstore across town, keeps to himself mostly.”
Books. Such a normal job for someone who’d just turned Zack’s world sideways. He pictured Flynn shelving books or doing ordinary things while carrying the weight of being someone’s secret son.
“I need time.” Zack pressed his face against Colton’s shoulder. “To think about it.”
“Take all the time you need.” Lips pressed against his temple, soft and reassuring. “No rush on this, Blue. He’s been out there this long, another few days or weeks won’t matter.”
Days or weeks or maybe forever. Zack didn’t know which he’d choose yet. But having the option, having his mate’s steady presence beside him while he figured it out, made the impossibility of it all feel manageable.
