The First To Know. Эбигейл Джонсон

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СКАЧАТЬ name. Forty-seven percent shared DNA. Relationship prediction: father or son. It took half a second, and he could never go back, never not know. I felt just as alone watching him, seeing the page tremble in his hands, except worse, because I was the reason he knew.

      “What is this?” he asked, but he knew. The way he’d looked at me... His eyes rose to meet mine. His lips kept pressing together, opening for a breath, then closing again when I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to say it, to make it more real than it already was. “You said grandfather.” His eyes were wide, like he was pleading with me. I was silently pleading with him just as much.

      “I didn’t want to believe it either, but you...”

      Brandon’s eyes narrowed at me.

      It came out in a whisper. “You look like him.”

      He shot to his feet. “Bull. Shit.”

      I wanted his conviction so badly that I reached for him. “How can you be his son? My parents are happy. They’ve always been happy. I don’t understand how you—”

      The muscles in his neck and arms were clenched tight, but he was making an effort to control himself. He didn’t yell. “You said grandfather.”

      “I didn’t know how old you were. I hadn’t seen...you.”

      “Then it’s a mistake.”

      Except it wasn’t. Seeing him, I knew it wasn’t. We both did.

      “My dad is... And my mom never...”

      “Mine neither,” I said.

      His movements were jerky as he crumpled the paper into a tight ball. “I’m not your brother, okay? I can’t be. It’s a mistake. I’m sure if you talk to your dad or the website, you can figure it out, but I’m not your guy, so...”

      I tried to match the calm tone he was striving for, but I could hear the desperation strangling my voice. “My parents have been married for more than twenty years, but we’re not even a year apart in age, which means...” I couldn’t say it out loud. The idea that Dad had had an affair was unbearable.

      “It’s not possible.” His lips were barely moving, but I heard him perfectly. “My father is Brandon McCormick Jr. His father was Brandon McCormick Sr. His father was David McCormick V. I can go back another ten generations if you want. I know their names and their families. Dennis Fields—” he practically spit Dad’s name “—is nothing to me.”

      In that moment, he felt like nothing to me too. I wanted to cry for Mom and Selena. I wanted to cry for our family. I wanted to cry for everything that had been stripped away from me in an instant, for the brother I’d never known who was looking at me with fear-mingled contempt. “I’m sorry.”

      “Are you? Is that why you showed up like this and tried to tell me my mom slept with your dad?”

      “No.” Tears stung my eyes. “You weren’t supposed to be him. I was supposed to see you and know. I was supposed to be able to go home and not feel like my whole life has been a lie.”

      He took a couple steps backward. I panicked and grabbed his arm.

      “Wait, please. I didn’t know. I came because I needed it not to be true. You’re the only other person who knows, and I—Please don’t go.” I forced myself to release him. I had to calm down, to think. “I can’t go back home and forget you aren’t...who you are. I can’t look at my dad and pretend he didn’t have an affair.” The word hurt to say. “I don’t even know if he knows you exist.” Brandon hadn’t moved, but he was pulling farther away, shutting down with each thing I said. I started nodding before I spoke. “Okay, okay,” I said. “Everything—” my chin quivered “—hurts. Talking, breathing.” Looking at him. “I’m going. I’ll come back when—”

      “No.”

      I started, both at the word and the flat tone. “Then I’ll message you.”

      “No. Don’t come here. Don’t message me. Don’t anything.”

      “But...you’re my brother.”

      His hard-won composure threatened to snap, but he didn’t deny it.

      “Okay,” I said. Neither of us moved. “Will you...when you’re ready?”

      He looked at the crumpled paper still clutched in his fist. “No. It doesn’t matter.”

      My eyes bulged as I leaned forward. “It doesn’t matter? How can you say that?” The fear and anger I understood—they were both still roiling under my skin—but indifference played no part in my emotions, and I didn’t believe it did for him either. “How can you look at your mom and not scream?”

      “I don’t have to,” he said. “She’s dead.”

       Chapter 9

      Brandon didn’t look back as he went inside, and I walked slowly to my car, only to stop in the act of unlocking my door. Where was I supposed to go? Back home so I could watch my parents cuddle on the couch? I couldn’t make Brandon exhume a past that was truly buried in his case, but neither could I ignore what had already been dug up.

      I dropped my forehead on the hood and let the sunbaked heat from the metal seep into me, but it couldn’t thaw the ice inside. I couldn’t face Dad or Mom. I looked at my phone, but I couldn’t call Selena and do to her what I’d inadvertently done to Brandon, my brother. That word crashed horrifically into my heart. I had a brother. I could almost have been happy about that, except it meant Dad had committed adultery. He’d cheated on Mom.

      I didn’t understand it. How could he have cheated on Mom? How could he have had another child? How could they still be together, happy? Did he know about Brandon? Did anyone? Had Dad loved Brandon’s mom? Had he planned on leaving Mom for her? Did he know she’d died? When did she die? Brandon was as devastated by the DNA test results as I was, but who else knew? Just his mom? Her husband? Dad? Mom? Did Selena know? I dismissed that thought immediately. She would never have helped me test Dad if she thought it might lead to this.

      I turned around and gazed at the darkening sky. At home we’d be getting ready for dinner. Mom cooked occasionally, but Dad usually ran the kitchen. Lasagna, I decided. He made that every week, and we were due. There’d be a salad and maybe ice cream after that. My eyes flooded, blurring the sky overhead.

      “Hey, Dana, wait up.”

      My head snapped straight and I saw the guy from Jungle Juice—Chase, the wrong McCormick. He’d ditched his uniform polo shirt, revealing a plain white T beneath it. He didn’t look pissed, like he was coming to add to his cousin’s stay-away warning. Instead he glanced at the tall foam cup in his hand before jogging toward me. He slowed when he saw my face, but he didn’t stop. I was very obviously crying, so I didn’t rush to wipe the tears from my cheeks as he drew nearer. What did it matter if he saw me cry? What did any of it matter?

      “This seemed like a good idea from across the parking lot.”

      “What?” I asked, only half seeing Chase СКАЧАТЬ