Southern Secrets by Natasha Madison
Chapter 29
Asher
"He’s looking for me."The words come out in almost a whisper. "I’m his son," I finally say out loud and feel Amelia get stiff beside me. I want to take her in the back and talk to her one on one, but the eyes looking at me tell me this is not an option. Not with everyone’s eyes on me. "I’m his son." I repeat the words again in case I didn’t say them clear enough before.
"I’m sorry, what did you say?" Ethan steps forward, confusion all over his face as his eyes meet mine.
"This isn’t how I wanted to do this." I look at him and then Jacob, who stands there with shock and confusion all over his face. He just stares at me, and I know I have one chance to say this. I just hope that in the end, they don’t toss me out on my ass. I also know that in the end, I’ll deserve it for lying to them. "You have to know that none of this was supposed to happen." I can feel Amelia pull away from me like the wick at the end of a candle burning out. She moves slowly, and I watch her walk over to stand by Jacob. My hand is stuck to my side instead of reaching out and holding her next to me. The tears in her eyes are forming, shattering my soul.
"Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Jacob says and puts his arm around Amelia. He brings her closer to him, rubbing his thumb up and down her arm. The same arm that held me earlier today, the same arm that I kissed not too long ago. It kills me because that is supposed to be my job. I’m supposed to be the one holding her when she needs it. I’m the one who is supposed to be drying her tears, not making her cry. I’m the one she should turn to, not the one she runs away from.
"I need.” Beau holds up his hand, stopping me from saying anything else. He moves past me, going behind the bar. He grabs the whiskey on the top shelf and a shot glass. Everyone looks over at him. "Anyone else need one?" He holds up the bottle, no one moving toward him. "No, just me?" He pours himself a shot and then takes it. He hisses out and pours himself another one, this time no hissing coming out of him. "I think I’m good." He pours another one but leaves it in front of him. "But just in case, I’m going to stay here."
I look back over, my eyes trying to get Amelia to look at me. I’m silently screaming at her to look in my direction. Her head is bent, and her eyes are focused on her hands wringing in front of her. A lone teardrop falls on her hands, and she shakes it away as if she was being burned by fire. "I never knew who my father was." I start the story, looking at every single man who stands in this bar. These men who have taken me under their wing and embraced me. "When I turned eighteen, I went and got a copy of my birth certificate, hoping by some miracle she would have put a name down. But it was blank." I laugh bitterly that this is my fucking life. "It was father unknown." My eyes fly to Amelia who looks anywhere but at me. "I don’t know why I was surprised by it. It wasn’t like I was going to go search for him or anything like that. It was just a hope that maybe, just maybe I would have someone out there."
"I feel a huge but coming on," Ethan says, looking at me, and then Beau groans and takes another shot.
"I was working at the grill in this tiny shithole of a restaurant." I shake my head. "I was making under minimum wage, but I had no choice. It was in the middle of fucking bum fuck when the door opens. I looked up because the bell usually didn’t ring that often. A man steps in wearing a three-piece suit. I laughed, thinking this guy was for sure lost. He looked around and spotted me right away. Pointing at me, he asked if my name was Asher." I swallow the lump in my throat. "He asked me who my mother was, and at first, I was confused, and then I thought this could be my father."
"It wasn’t," Beau says right away. "In order for him to be a father at all to you, he would have to acknowledge you, and from our experience, he doesn’t give a shit where he leaves his fucking seed." He takes another shot and then looks at Ethan. “I love you with everything I have, and you know that." Ethan just nods at him.
"It wasn’t Liam," I confirm to him. "I also didn’t tell this man who my mother was. I didn’t answer anything. He held out a manila envelope," I say, and Ethan gasps out.
"No," he says, shaking his head, and he walks over to the bar to stand next to Beau who just hands him the bottle. He doesn’t even bother grabbing a shot glass. Instead, he drinks straight from the bottle. His hand is shaking when he puts the bottle down on the bar. "How old were you?" Ethan asks me.
"I had just turned," I say, and Ethan finishes with me, "Twenty-one."
"How the fuck do you know?" I look at him, shocked he knew this. No one knew this because I didn’t tell a soul. One because I had no one to tell, and two because no one would believe me.
"Did the man tell you that it was your truth?" Ethan says, and it’s my turn to need a drink. But my feet don’t move from my spot. He must see from my face that he is hitting it right on the spot. The back of my neck burns as my stomach sinks even more to the floor. "How old are you?" he asks.
"Going to be thirty in a month," I say, and he shakes his head and laughs, but the laughter is soon followed by the bottle in his hand.
"Four months," Ethan says. "I’m younger than you by four months."
"What was in the envelope?" Jacob says. "We need to know what was in that envelope."
"What wasn’t in that fucking envelope," I say, and I hear sniffling from Amelia, who looks at her father.
"A letter from Clint Huntington," I say, and I hear Beau hiss out from behind the bar.
He shakes his head. "That would be dear old grandpa to you." He claps his hands together. "Even from his grave, the fucker is getting his jollies."
"It had the name of a paternity test that was taken a day after I was born," I tell them, “with the results stating that Liam Huntington was my father." I shake my head. "I had a name. For the first time in my life, I had a name. It took me a month to get the courage to go and look him up online. I went to one of those libraries and typed in his name. His wedding photo was the first thing to come up and then you," I say, pointing at Beau. "All about how you were mayor of this town." I shrug. "For the first time in my life, I had a family. I had someone who was a part of me. It was as if I won the jackpot."
"It’s been nine years," Ethan says. "It took you nine years to come here?"
“I wanted to be sure of myself before I just came here and told you who I was,” I tell him. “I still wasn’t sure what was going on. Was this letter even real, or was it a joke? I came to town intending to find out who you were,” I answer them honestly. “I didn’t know anything else besides who Beau was,” I tell Ethan. “I was on my way out of town when we met at the diner. I thought for sure you would see that I was hiding something. I thought for sure I would wake up one day, and you guys would have figured it out.”
“I can’t," she says. I take one step forward, and she looks up at me, stopping me. The look of hatred fills her face, and it cuts me off at my knees.
Quinn steps forward. "I’ll take her," he says to Jacob, who just nods at him. He puts his arm around her and turns her, walking out the door.
"I have to," I say, and Jacob and Casey both shake their heads at me.
"You need to give her space," they tell me, and I just look at them.
"Fuck the space," I say, angry. "I was going to tell you guys tonight. It’s why I texted you. I was so fucking over this cloud hanging over me. I was so fucking fed up with keeping this fucking secret. I thought if you guys knew who I was and if you got to know me, it wouldn’t matter who the fuck my father was."
"He is not your father," Jacob says. "No matter what you have to say, that man is not your father." I blink away the tears in my eyes. "You share DNA with him. That’s it." I try to swallow, but nothing goes down, my mouth is dry again. "The question is, what does he want from you?" He looks at me, then at Ethan. "What does he want from either of you?"
"He doesn’t want shit from me because he knows if he looks my way, I’ll put a bullet up his ass," Ethan says, looking at Beau. "When was the last time he reached out to you?"
"The envelope," Casey says. "Where is this envelope?"
"I have it in a safety-deposit box two towns over," I say. "Why?"
"The barn you lived in," Casey tells me, and everything around me starts to turn. "You lived in the barn, and it goes up in flames."
"Then you live with Amelia, and she gets knocked over the head," Ethan says, looking at his father.
"Then your car is ransacked along with Amelia’s," Jacob says. "All this time, he’s been out for you."
"I didn’t even know he existed, and I doubted that he gave me a second thought,” I tell them.
“The pieces are all here,” Casey says, his hand going in a circle. "We just have to put it together."
"Great," Beau says. "Another fucking puzzle."
"We need to see the envelope," Casey says, and I nod at him.
"I can go get it tomorrow," I say to him.
"I’ll come with you," Jacob says. "We don’t know if he’s waiting for you or following you."
"I’ll come with you also," Ethan says to me. "We’ll figure this out."
"I have to go,” I tell them, not sure what the fuck will happen tomorrow, but I know that one thing has to happen right now, and that is me going to Amelia. “I can’t leave her with her space. It’s going to fucking kill her." I look at Jacob. "I was also going to tell you that I’m in love with your daughter."
Ethan laughs, and I turn to look over at him as Beau’s head is down, and he laughs silently. "It’s the worst-kept secret of life,” Casey says.
“Everyone knows,” Beau says.
“She won’t forgive me for this,” I say my fear out loud. “I know she won’t, and I have to accept it." The numbness comes to me. "But I have to at least see her."
"Do you have a place to stay tonight?" Jacob asks, and I just look at him.
"Even if I’m not in her house," I say, "I’m not leaving her. I’ll sleep in the truck in front of her house." I swallow down. "And if anyone fucks with her, I’ll kill them. I have nothing left to lose. I can spend the rest of my life in jail as long as she’s safe," I say, walking out of the bar.
