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Even as I tore myself down, part of me attempted to rally. I didn’t know!
I should have.
This was just another example of how woefully pathetic I was at life. I should have put two and two together. They shared the same last name! Truth was I stayed as far away as humanly possible from politics, the news, and anything that might even bring up an echo of a memory of my parents. Hell, I wouldn’t even have come to this state for college, but Jess got a scholarship to Westbrook and it was at this school I could swim with my brother.
I’d become an expert at blocking out any kind of connection to politics. So much so that I hadn’t even thought about the potential link between Arsen and the senator seated alongside my… Him.
The three of us—me, my brother, and my sister—made a pact before we even left New York to come to Westbrook. No one would know. Ever. Besides, the McClarens weren’t my parents anymore. We just happened to have matching DNA. I had no doubt if my father could have scrubbed himself from my genetics, it would have already been done.
We managed for two years. Almost three. We lived as if they didn’t exist and kept the reasons I was kicked to the curb on the down low too. It was my choice. What I wanted. My family respected and upheld it.
One night in jail changed everything.
Coach learned about my disabilities (though, props to him for acting as if he didn’t know). Arsen whispered in my ear. I took the plunge and told my friends I was gay.
And now?
Now this fleabag of a lawyer dug around in my closet, unearthed the most ancient and painful of skeletons, and whipped them out for everyone to gawk at.
I felt like a pinata who’d taken one hit too many, and now I was ripped open, everything inside me spilling out all over the floor.
Bro. A trauma latte wasn’t going to fix this. Nothing could.
“I didn’t realize John had a child,” Senator Andrews, Arsen’s dad, deliberated.
He’s probably just like my father.
Now I understood why it was so easy for us to get out of the first arrest. Why hadn’t I asked more questions about that before?
“He doesn’t,” I replied. A reflex? Protection mechanism? Both.
The senator frowned. “I don’t understand. Are you or are you not John McClaren’s son?”
My stomach knotted. The few sips of coffee burned my esophagus, threatening to reappear.
Max’s boots thudded on the floor as he came closer. “Seems to me he’s just a biologic.”
I glanced at Max, grateful he understood. I’d heard him refer to his parents as his biologics on more than one occasion. Because to him, they weren’t his parents. They were sperm donors. Their biology created his, and that was the only connection they had.
“Yeah,” I told him. “But that was what you chose. I didn’t choose it. They did.”
Max’s jaw turned to stone, the muscles on the sides of his face jutting out with anger. “Then they didn’t deserve you.”
Oh, that pierced. It pierced a soft spot of me where my armor had fallen away. It was a simple thing to say. Maybe something contrived that he didn’t even fully mean. But it still meant something to me.
“What does that mean exactly?” Senator Andrews asked.
“He’s his kid, Bennett,” Niles replied. “But it was deeply buried. I had to use every connection I had to get to the truth.”
“Why would John hide the fact he has a son?” Senator Andrews murmured. He glanced at me, and I had to fight the urge to drop my eyes to the floor.
I refused. I would not. It was so hard my fingers trembled and my knees shook. Sweat prickled my forehead, and the back of my neck bristled. Even still, I kept my burning, unblinking eyes up and on the man.
“Are you a product of an affair?” he questioned. “Did he not know about you?”
I heard myself laugh. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. I just laughed and laughed. And laughed. I laughed so much that tears dropped from the corners of my eyes, and I gasped for breath in between cackling.
“Matt.” Kruger spoke my name quietly, his voice gruff. His arm went around my shoulders and lifted, making me aware I’d been bent at the waist. “Come on, bro. That’s it. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.”
