by K. A. Linde
“Oh,” Weston said. “I, uh…why not?”
“Our dad said that you didn’t exist,” Jordan said indignantly.
“What?” he asked again. “He didn’t say that. I saw him two weeks ago!”
“Yeah. So, you can see why we didn’t want to take you at your word.”
“But you hired a PI anyway?” Weston asked.
“Always better to get the truth,” Jordan said. “And now…we know.”
Weston blinked. “You’re ruthless.”
“That would be our father,” I drawled. “And I think it’s time that he’s in on this family bonding.”
“Wait…he’s here?” Weston asked.
“He’s here,” Jordan confirmed.
“Why? What did he tell you he was doing?”
Weston crossed his arms. “He…he works in Vancouver, like, every other weekend. He sits on boards and stuff. He was going to be up there. That’s why I figured it would be good to see you. I didn’t even know you were all still talking. He told us that he was divorced.”
“He is,” Jordan agreed. “But he doesn’t live in Vancouver anymore.”
I shrugged. “Or maybe he does. Why don’t we finally find out what’s a lie and what’s the truth?”
Then the three of us turned as one as Owen Wright—our father, resident liar—materialized out of the crowd to stand before us with terrified, wide eyes.
36
Jennifer
“West?” Owen said.
My stomach turned over at the sound of that voice. I’d been a silent witness to everything that had happened. I’d been rooted to the spot, unable to move or think or breathe. I certainly couldn’t walk away as it all came out. All the bullshit and lying that Owen had gotten away with for more than two decades.
He had another family. Three kids and a mistress at the very least. He’d told Jordan and Julian that it wasn’t true. He’d spun some believable tale, thinking the boys would sweep it under the rug. But the problem with lying was that, eventually, the truth always came out.
“Dad,” Weston said, his voice uncertain.
“What are you doing here?”
“I keep getting that question,” he said. “I think by now it’s obvious.”
“You lied,” Jordan snarled. “You lied about everything.”
“I didn’t.”
Julian shook his head. There was fire in his eyes. “Don’t try to deny it. We hired a PI, and now, we know the truth.”
Owen Wright paled to translucent paper. His veins were visible. His skin leeched of color. “You hired a PI?” he said, as if it were inconceivable.
“I did,” Jordan said. “And I’m fucking glad I did since you’re a lying bastard.”
“Jordan—”
“I trusted you! I put my neck out for you. I told Julian that we should give you another chance. And you spit on that.”
People were definitely watching now. We were a spectacle. Something I hated, but I wasn’t the center of it. I was standing in the spotlight as they tore into Owen Wright. Who fucking deserved it as far as I was concerned.
Wrights got to their feet. Jensen took a few steps forward, Austin and Landon at his back. As if they’d step in if necessary. Morgan’s eyes were storm clouds as she crossed her arms and stared daggers into the back of Owen’s head. This had been another chance for her, too. She’d believed Jordan when he asked for Owen to come here. That he wasn’t going to cause more trouble.
Owen was a tornado. You always thought you were fine one block over until it twisted in your direction and bowled your house down to the foundation.
“How could you look us in the eye and say that Weston wasn’t our brother?” Julian asked. His calm was lethal, the eye of the storm. “How could you lie when we came to you for the truth?”
“Julian, it wasn’t…”
“You told them I wasn’t their brother?” Weston asked.
“I…”
“Yes, and he didn’t mention that you had a twin or a sister either,” Julian added.
Owen gulped. “You know about Whitt and Harley?”
“Private investigators are thorough, it turns out,” Jordan drawled, crossing his arms.
“We could have forgiven you if you’d told the truth,” Julian said. “I wanted to believe you.”
“We both did,” Jordan said.
“But you cheated on Mom. You said you loved her, and you had a family behind her back.”
“Boys, this is…it’s all a misunderstanding,” Owen said, trying to spin the situation. But his days of spinning were over. There was no out for him here. And as he looked between his three sons, he saw no remedy to his solution. It was over. It was all over.
Jensen dropped a heavy hand onto Owen’s shoulder. Austin took up the other side.
“It’s time for you to leave,” Jensen said as calm and collected as ever. But he wasn’t a man to be fucked with. Not on a good day, and Jensen never forgave people who hurt his family.
“Jensen,” Owen said, straightening. “Surely, there’s no need for that.”
Jensen looked at him flatly. “On Morgan’s orders, you were allowed to attend this event as long as you didn’t cause trouble. To be honest, I voted against it. Said you weren’t worth it. It’s disappointing to be proven right.”
Then Zach was inside, pushing through the lot of them. He actually looked eager. It had to be boring to stand outside the door all night with nothing to do. Now, he got to throw someone out. Excellent.
Jensen handed him off to Zach, and then Owen was dragged toward the boys.
“Please, let me explain.”
“There’s nothing left to explain,” Julian said with sorrow in his voice.
“You’ve done enough damage,” Jordan growled.
Weston crossed his arms and looked away. As if he couldn’t even look at his dad. Was that because disappointment was too keen or because he hadn’t expected it from his dad? He’d obviously had questions if he’d emailed Julian and Jordan to begin with.
Suddenly, a voice cleared over a microphone at the other end of the room. Morgan stood on the stage, drawing all eyes toward her and away from the commotion at the back of the room.
“Hello, and thank you for showing up for our annual summer event. It’s a great pleasure to see all of you here and enjoying the evening. I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but I’m supposed to give a speech, so here I am.”
Some people laughed softly, and just like that, Morgan had broken the tension. Everyone stayed focused on her while she gave her short speech and then announced a special treat—Campbell Abbey would be performing an acoustic set. That won everyone over as they cheered, and Campbell walked out with an acoustic guitar around his neck.
“Outside,” Jordan ordered.
And no one argued as Weston and Julian trailed after him. Jensen and Austin nodded their way and then went back to their table. I wanted to go after them, but Campbell was playing, and clearly, I needed to be taking pictures of this. I wavered to see the three brothers together, wanting to be there for Julian. But I could also see that he needed a minute. Beyond the immediate anger, he had a much bigger family than he’d ever known, and he was going to need to figure it all out. So, I left the boys outside and went back to photographing Campbell. Annie and Sutton slid to my side. Piper and Blaire not far behind them.
“What the hell was all of that?” Annie asked.
I opened and closed my eyes. “That’s Weston.”
She gaped. “Oh shit. I need to go talk to Jordan.”
I grabbed her arm. “I think…we should give them a minute.”
“What am I missing?” Piper asked. “Should that name mean something to us?”
Sutton sighed. “It appears that Owen has another kid, and no one knew about it.”
Piper gasped. Blaire went pale.
“They’re all mad that he didn’t tell them?” Blaire asked softly.
“That he lied about it. Plus, it’s three kids,
not just one.”
“What?” Sutton breathed.
I explained about the PI and the three kids. It’d all be out in the open soon enough. No reason to hide it any longer. They all looked shaken and horrified by this news.
“Fuck,” Annie said. Her eyes went to the door, tracking her boyfriend.
I went back to work, shooting the rest of the party and trying not to think about the people who were still absent from the room. Julian and Jordan never walked back in through the front door.
I opted for a break and headed into the backstage after Campbell finished his short set. I startled when I saw Jordan and Julian were back there, seated around a circular table, with a half-empty bottle of bourbon between them.
Campbell laughed when he saw them. “Hey, pour me a glass.”
Jordan tipped the bottle to his lips and took a swig, passing it to Julian, who did the same.
Campbell shook his head. “One of those nights, huh?”
“You have no idea,” Jordan muttered.
Campbell laughed, unaware of what had happened, and headed into the dressing room.
I took a breath and then sank into a seat next to them. “Hey, how are you holding up?”
Julian held the bottle up to me in cheers. “Today can fuck right off.”
“I’m sorry about your dad. What happened with Weston?”
“He felt terrible and apologized a dozen times for barging in,” Jordan said. “He didn’t know about the party.”
“How’d he even know to come to the winery?”
Jordan rolled his eyes. “That damn interview Julian did for the opening.”
“Hey, you all thought it was a good idea at the time,” he slurred slightly.
How much of that bourbon had he already had?
“Hindsight,” Jordan grumbled. “Anyway, when he looked us up, that comes up on the Google search, and it said we were open tonight. We hadn’t posted that we were closed for a private event. We’d just canceled tours and such.”
“Wow,” I whispered. “I can’t believe he’s really your brother. You looked all over for him online.”
“Yeah, he’s not on social media,” Jordan said. “He said that the musician work he does is backing band for tours. So, it’s not like he’s…Campbell.”
“I didn’t know people could be offline,” Jennifer said.
“Apparently,” Jordan said, reaching for the bottle. “And apparently our dad can have a son that no one knows about.”
“And a twin and another sister,” Julian said, dropping his head back. “Our dad is a real son of a bitch.”
“Yeah,” Jordan said with a sigh. “He really is.”
“So, what’s the plan? What are you going to do?”
Julian shrugged. “We have to tell Mom.”
“Ugh,” I groaned.
“And we’re meeting Weston for breakfast tomorrow to talk,” Jordan added.
“Really? Do you want to get to know them?”
“That’s what we need to figure out.” Julian downed the rest of the bottle in long gulps.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jordan said, snatching the bottle back. “You don’t have my tolerance, little bro.”
Julian dipped his head back and flipped him off. “I’ve had a night. I can indulge.”
Jordan shot me a pained look. This was hitting Julian way harder than Jordan. Even though Jordan had been the optimistic one about Owen’s repentance. He’d been the one to convince Julian to give him another chance. But Jordan was hardened, and Julian wasn’t. Jordan had always protected him, and now, he’d pushed him right into the thick of things.
“Maybe you should get him home,” Jordan suggested.
“I’m fine,” he muttered, pointedly taking back the bottle and finishing it.
Jordan winced. Alcoholism ran in their family. None of them liked to talk about it, but it wasn’t a good sign for Julian.
“Hey, come on. Let’s get going.”
“You have to work still,” he mumbled.
“I got everything I need,” I assured him.
Jordan got an arm under Julian and helped him out of the chair. Together, we hauled him out the back way and toward his Audi. I fished in his pocket for the keys, unlocking the behemoth. I’d never driven the thing, but I’d come over with my roommates, so I didn’t have Bertha here.
Once Jordan got Julian into the passenger seat, I waved him good-bye and pulled out of the parking lot in halting, nervous sputters. The SUV was twice as big as my car, and the last thing I wanted was to wreck his car as I drove him home. Julian spun the radio on and rolled the window down to let in the hot, dusty summer air. Rap music blasted through the speakers, but I didn’t turn it down. He was drunk and hurting and probably needed a shower and a good, long nap. If he had to face his brother tomorrow, face telling his mom, he deserved to do whatever he wanted to cope tonight.
I thought that I might have to carry him through the house once we got there, but he jumped out of the SUV on his own and stepped inside without a word. I dumped the keys onto a table next to the garage door and followed him. I found him in the kitchen.
“Julian,” I said.
“Hmm,” he said as he popped the top on the unopened whiskey and poured himself a full glass. “Want some?”
“No thanks.”
I didn’t know how to help or what I could do. But drinking was probably not the answer.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?”
“You know, I really don’t.” Then he drank it back like a shot.
“Do you think getting black-out drunk will make things better?”
“Nope,” he said, smacking his lips. “I really don’t.”
“Okay.”
He dropped the glass into the sink and carried the bottle with him to the couch. “But I think it’ll make me forget that tonight happened—at least for a few hours.” He patted the couch next to him. “Come. Sit.”
I dropped the camera on the nearby table, kicked off my shoes, and curled up onto the couch next to him. He turned on the television and wrapped an arm around me. I wanted to believe that things would be better in the morning, but I’d never seen Julian like this before.
I worried that what had happened with his dad had broken him in some fundamental way, and I wasn’t sure who he was going to be in the morning.
37
Jennifer
The next morning, I woke to the sound of Julian vomiting in the toilet.
“Ugh,” I groaned, rolling over and covering my ears with a pillow. Not that it did much to hide the sound of his retching.
He deserved it after he’d had so much to drink that he’d passed out. I’d never seen him drink like that, and I hoped that I never saw it again. It was a new level of terrible.
The toilet flushed, and Julian came back into the room, flopping down on the bed. “Sorry,” he muttered, covering his eyes. “Might have had too much to drink last night.”
“Might?” I said with a laugh.
“I’m never drinking again.”
I shook my head. “Lies.”
“Yeah, but, not anytime soon. Or like that.”
“You wanted to forget.”
He gave me a thumbs-up. “Success.”
I chuckled and dropped out of bed. “I’ll find you some Tylenol.”
“You’re the best.”
I rolled my eyes at him as I headed out of the bedroom. I poured him a glass of water and knocked out two Tylenol from the bottle. I carried them back into the bedroom for him.
“Thank you,” he said, downing them and falling back.
“Eggs and toast?” I suggested.
He groaned and shook his head. “Food is a bad idea.”
“Don’t you have breakfast plans with Weston still?”
“Fuck,” he spat into the pillow. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“Shower,” I said, pointing to the bathroom. “And then some toast.”
He grumbled but heaved his body off of the bed an
d into the shower. I made myself some toast, eating it as I buttered his toast. He came into the living room with downcast eyes, a hand still clutching his head.
I slid the plate across to him on the kitchen island.
“Thanks.”
He took a small bite of the toast, trying to calm his rumbling stomach and ease the hangover that was thick on him. He didn’t say anything, just ate each piece of toast in tiny little bites. I didn’t have any idea how he was going to meet Weston in the state he was in.
After he finished, he cleared his plate, washed it off, and deposited it into the dishwasher. “Thanks for taking care of me.”
“No problem,” I said easily.
“Last night was…” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it.”
“It’s fine. You can have a bad night after what you went through.”
He smiled softly at me and then winced. “It seems I’m entitled to a bad morning as well.”
I laughed at him. “When’s your meeting? I left my car at home. Should I call someone to get me?”
“No, I’ll take you.”
“You should take a cab.”
He sighed. “Is it that bad?”
“Yeah,” I said with a smile.
He was still gorgeous to me, but he looked rough from the alcohol. Dark circles under his eyes, pale skin, and his hair was all mussed from the shower. He did not look like he was ready to tackle everything he needed to get through today.
“All right. If you say so. I’ll grab an Uber or something.”
I slid my phone out of my purse and texted Annie to see if she was free. She responded almost immediately, saying that she’d be there ASAP. That she had to get to the hospital and it was on her way.
“Annie is going to get me.”
He blew out a breath. “Well, that’s good at least. Now, if my headache would cease to exist, that’d be great, too.”
“Poor baby,” I said with a laugh, kissing his cheek.
I headed back into the bedroom to change back into my dress from last night, leaving Julian’s T-shirt on his bed. I picked up my purse, cursing myself for not taking my meds while Julian had showered. Now, I’d have to wait until I got home. I really preferred taking it first thing when I woke up. Oh well.