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Chapter Twenty-Eight
I leaveeverything where it fell and race to my computer. It's just down the hall, yet I'm out of breath like I’ve just sprinted a mile. The adrenaline coursing through me puts every nerve ending on high alert. What is on this thing? Why was it hidden among the pipes? In a fake pipe.
I drop into my desk chair and hit the space bar repeatedly. Come on, come on, come on. It only takes a second for the monitor to come to life, but it feels like an hour.
"Finally." My voice sounds like a bullhorn in the quiet house.
With my hand wrapped around the small device, I hesitate for a moment. Uncurling my fingers, I stare at it. I should wait for Nate. No, this is important. Brooks wouldn't have hidden it otherwise.
Plugging the USB drive—slash back part of the pipe—into the adapter connected to my laptop, it instantly pops up in my Finder window: Nate and Lilly.
I suck in a sharp breath.
My hand is trembling as I navigate the cursor into position. I clench and unclench my hand before clicking on the device name. A single video file with the same title gets displayed on the right.
Shifting in my seat, all I can do is stare. My heart is hammering so hard I swear I can hear it. Slowly, I move the little arrow over the file.
Why did Nate have to leave town today? I have no clue if I can reach him. What time is it in Europe? Crap, crap, crap. I can't wait until he's back, though. Swallowing hard, I double click.
Oh, my God.
Brooks fills the screen, and when his voice comes through the speaker, tears begin to run down my face.
This is my father. My dad.
Nate. Son. I hope when you see this, Lilly will be with you and you've already found each other.
Brooks’s face becomes blurry,and I hit the spacebar to pause the video. Seeing him—not just in a picture or one of my muted memories—actually hearing him, I can't contain the sob building in my throat. His voice is deep and calm. Kind. I rub my eyes with my fingers and apply pressure. Breathe. When I have myself semi under control, I continue.
I don’t know where to begin.
My father chucklesand looks down for a second. Following his line of sight, I notice that he's holding a couple of photos. One hand lets go of the pictures, and he scrubs it over his mouth before focusing on the camera again.
If you haven't found Lilly yet, this will be one more revelation I wish I would've had the guts to tell you, son. There is no way to sugarcoat it. You have a half-sister. Her name is Lilly Ann.
She looks so much like you. I truly hope you have found each other by now.
His breath becomes shaky,and his eyes gloss over. The emotion on his face breaks my heart, and I cover my mouth with my hands in an attempt to mute my own crying.
It all started about seven years ago. I met a woman...Emily. Your mother and I went through a rough patch. After Audrey's birth, your mom was struggling with post-partum depression. We hired a nanny to take care of you and your sister because she couldn't.
He pauses,and his face softens.
It wasn't her fault—we knew that—but Payton would blame herself for not being stronger. Just when she had recovered, your grandfather passed away. Payton was distraught. You know how much your mom adored your grandfather.
I had to take over the hotels' legal department, which was part of your grandfather's will, and I had no idea what I was doing. I was gone sixteen hours a day—sometimes even slept in the office.
Your mother was grieving, I was stressed, and we blamed each other for our failing marriage. We did our best to keep all this from you, and I hope we succeeded on that front.
He glances back downat the photos that are now flat on the surface in front of him, but I can't make out who is on them. Are those of me? Are those the same pictures Nate found? My mind starts firing questions at me, and I draw in slow breaths. I need to focus on Brooks. He recorded this for a reason.
Emily was mysterious, energetic, spontaneous. I met her at a conference where she was visiting a friend; I forget her name. Her friend was pregnant, so Emily hung out in the hotel bar after her friend went to bed. We hit it off.
I'm sure you have no interest in the details...let's just say one thing led to another. After I got back to LA, we stayed in contact. We met a few more times. She lived in San Diego, and it was easy to make the drive and meet halfway.
We kept in touch through handwritten letters. She said they were more personal.
His expression shifts,and his face becomes hard.
