“I don’t,” Javi insists, and I roll my eyes, knowing that’s a lie.
“Turn it down before I make you get out. You’re going to get hurt.” He’s as stubborn as I am sometimes.
“Okay, I promise,” he says, the sound of his innocent giggle echoing off the walls. I feel a little better after hearing Javi’s promise. We have a rule: don’t make any promises you can’t keep.
I try to cling to the hope Javi will get better, holding onto it as I grip the railing to walk downstairs.
It’s time I finally face the music I’ve spent every day for the last two years running away from.
CHAPTER THREE
Bailey
PAST
I shouldn’t be here.Mom and Dad would be pissed if they knew I was meeting some guy from the internet claiming to be Dad’s son. He promised if I met up with him, he’d explain everything.
I was going to ignore it, but I couldn’t forget the message once I saw it.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” I ask, tilting my head to scan his features, but if anything, seeing him in person makes it more believable he could be Dad’s kid.
For all I know, this guy could be a fan of Sebastian Walker, desperate for his money or something. I don’t know why people do the things they do, but I know they can be crazy.
I should have at least told one of my siblings I was coming here tonight, but I’ve been avoiding them. It seems stupid to be mad at Mirabelle for staying in Charlotte since we’re at the beach house full time now that Dad’s retired, but I miss her, even if she annoys me most of the time. Then there’s JJ, who chose to go to school out in California, and everything is changing faster than I can wrap my head around.
I’m not ready for the four of us to drop to just Hunter and me at home.
We’ve always been a team, but it’s starting to feel like I’m the only one who doesn’t know what I want to do with my life, and it’s terrifying.
Why did I have to be different? Why couldn’t I have just picked football like my brothers?
“What reason do I have to lie?” Carter counters, and he looks as nervous as I feel, but I’m still trying to wrap my head around this. “You’re not the only one shocked to find out you have another brother.”
“You found me—not the other way around,” I point out, tapping the sides of the hot chocolate I have yet to take a drink from.
“I know, but you didn’t have to meet me,” he points out.
I came because I want to know why he still chose to message me. My social media account is mainly action shots of me playing soccer or pictures I took while messing around with one of Mom’s old cameras. If you subtract my last name, there’s nothing exciting about me.
“Why me? If you’re looking for a cool sibling, you might want to give Mirabelle or JJ a call. Hell, Hunter is nicer than I am. I’m by far the least interesting one,” I say, hating the flash of resentment coursing through me, but I’m not wrong.
Mirabelle’s an Olympic gold medalist. JJ is probably going to end up playing professionally after college, keeping with the family legacy, and Hunter’s queued up to follow right behind him.
Me? I’m good with a soccer ball, but I have a quick temper. I also like to argue because I feel like if I don’t scream andmakeeveryone pay attention to me, I’ll be forgotten. My talents are nothing compared to those of everyone I’m related to.
He runs a hand through his dark hair, so similar to Dad’s,in addition to the matching honey eyes. “You’re right,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, and it’s tempting to walk away now. I don’t need to be told my faults. “I picked you because I think you’re also the black sheep who might understand what it’s like to not fit in with your family, no matter how much you might want to. I hoped it would mean you’d hear me out.”
A part of me is pleased this random stranger, who might be my long-lost brother, thinks I’m the most likely to listen. It’s not what people normally think of when it comes to me. The other part is hurt because Carter’s right. I am the black sheep who doesn’t fit into the mold of my family, even though it’s all I’ve ever wanted.
“Okay, so tell me what you think you know.” I’ll give him a chance, but I’m skeptical.
Carter’s smile is one of relief, and he taps his phone, pulling up a picture to show me. “This is my mom, Kiera, and up until a couple of weeks ago, I thought this was my dad, Darren. I was home grabbing some things I’d left in my old room, and they walked in arguing. They didn’t know I was home, but it was over how his mom—my grandma—had given my dad a heads up since I’m not biologically his kid, and they wouldn’t be including me in the wills they were having drawn together.”
“Oh shit,” I say, and Carter grimaces.
“Yeah. My mom was upset because she wanted my dad to say it shouldn’t matter whether I was biologically his or not, I was still family. He wanted to let things cool off before making any decisions. I slipped out without them hearing me, and I started digging into who my father might be,” he explains. While I feel bad for him, I’m not sure where my dad comes into play. He’s been with Mom since they were in college. I’ve seen the pictures from Dad’s graduation, and Mom’s.
My skepticism must be clear on my face because he swipesthe screen, pulling up an old headline. “I know how it sounds, but I found these articles from twenty-three years ago about Sebastian Walker and my mom’s engagement.”
