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CHAPTER TEN
DAMIAN
We’d gotten the news four hours ago.
Once Trace had slunk out of his Harlem getaway and back to the office, Axel and I had known something was seriously wrong.
Trace hadn’t even been able to meet our gazes, his knee bouncing wildly as he told us what had kept him holed up in Harlem.
He wasn’t surprised by Ian’s appearance. He’d been expecting the half-brother allegation.
He’d known since senior year of high school that our dad had fucked around on Mom. He’d known since we were seventeen and never said a damn thing.
More than a decade of silence on something so important, so crucial, and I couldn’t stop thinkingwhy?
“Gyros,” Jessa said, dropping two big totes from her shoulder and then opening up a plastic bag on the table. “Food to fuel…whatever is happening here.”
I was so preoccupied with my own thoughts, I didn’t react. But on the inside, somewhere deep inside, I chuckled.
“Francis, I have a gyro for you too,” Jessa said, sending a pointed look at Francis. “So don’t think I forgot about you.”
“I already ate,” Francis said, but his eyes were on the foil wrap as she brought out four packets.
“Well, you are by no means obligated to eat. But if anyone is hungry, which”—her gaze found mine, warmth and understanding there—“I suspect some of you are, then you have a meal here waiting for you. Bon appetit.”
“Thank you, Jessa,” Axel said, clearing his throat as he reached for one of the gyros. “That was sweet of you.”
Sweet was an understatement. Sweet was what Jessa was on her bad days.
Jessa pushed one of the gyros toward me across the table. “I figured you haven’t eaten since noon, as usual.”
I accepted the food, hating how right she was. Just the sight of her had loosened something wound tight inside of me. “You know me too well.”
She winked at me, which sent the corners of my mouth curling into a smile. How was that even possible? I was in the middle of a personal crisis, yet Jessa could still make me smile. I furrowed my brows, jerking myself back to the situation at hand.
Trace had kept a secret from Axel and me for over ten years.
He’d essentially lied to us…for a decade.
And because of this, we could all be damned sure that Axel would never speak to Trace again. It didn’t matter how many times Trace explained his side or rationalized his decision. It didn’t even matter that I sort of, kind of understood why Trace hadn’t said anything.
Axel would never get over it. That man held a grudge longer than Medusa kept her enemies petrified.
And now, in the blink of an eye, our unshakeable family was fractured.
Anxiety sizzled through me like water on a hotplate.
“Now,” Jessa said with a sigh, arranging her dress around her as she sat back in the leather chair opposite me at the table. “Somebody catch me up?”
Axel cleared his throat. I gestured to him, so he knew that he could take the lead. I didn’t have the energy to rehash this again. I’d spent the last three hours keeping Trace and Axel from killing each other. Axel had a way of saying ridiculous shit when angry, and Trace had a way of punching when provoked. As the perpetual middle brother mediator in the Fairchild clan, I always put aside my own reactions in order to prevent theirs from ruining everything. And mediation was as much of a drain on me as leaving an air conditioner turned on with the front door open.
“Ian Fairchild showed up at our office Monday,” he said, then ran his tongue over his top teeth. “He claimed to be a biological half-brother to Trace, which we all thought was bullshit. Well, when I say we, I mean Damian and I. Turns out, Trace knew the truth and kept quiet. Ianishis biological half-brother. Our adoptive father Gary stepped out on our Mom during our school years. Trace discovered it our senior year in high school and never thought it was important enough to share. And now we have the mother of all liabilities breathing down our neck and a very conspicuous breach of trust ripping apart the family.”
Jessa blinked, her gaze bouncing between Axel and me. “Oh, is that all?”
Another grin threatened to bubble to the surface, but I tamped it down. “That’s all,” I deadpanned. “Nothing major.”
She sent me a wry look, resting her chin on her fingers. “And we’re positive Ian is who he says he is?”
