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Lukas and I both move to interrupt, but she holds up a hand, asking us to let her continue. “I want you to know that I don’t take any of this lightly, and I am so appreciative of all of you.”
She takes a breath to steady herself before spitting it all out.
“I have all of these… feelings. Towards all of you. And I know that is super weird and doesn’t make any sense. And you’re probably right, it probably is a post-traumatic stress reaction, but that doesn’t mean the feelings aren’t there. And it’s not that I expect anyone to reciprocate or anything…” She pauses to take a breath. “I just… Thank you. Seeing you in the van this morning really meant a lot to me. It made me feel safe. And I realize that you might not only be here for me, but your presence makes me feel whole.”
She is looking everywhere except at either of us. I can’t tell if she’s feeling embarrassed or just overwhelmed, but I can see that she is actively trying not to let any tears fall.
Lukas watches her, listening to her nervous ramble. He glances up at me, locking eyes, and then looks back at her. I can see the wheels turning but I can’t figure out what he’s thinking.
Then he does the very last thing I would expect.
He reaches out and gently grabs her jaw, angling her face so she is looking at him. Then he looks at her deep in her eyes and says, “I feel it too. But… I’m afraid it isn’t real.”
“Does it matter?” She whispers.
His eyes are boring into her, but then they flick up to me, unsure again. I smile and give him a tiny, nearly imperceptible nod.
“Maybe not.”
And then that sly motherfucker kisses her!
At first, it’s a barely-there kiss, gentle and sweet. As their shock wears off, their lips start to move together, wet with the tears that have fallen down her face. I watch, astonished, and almost expect to feel some kind of jealousy, but all I feel is pride and happiness.
When he pulls back, she stares at him in wonder for a moment, but then turns her eyes to me. It’s like she’s making sure I’m okay with it, and I realize that she knows we’re together, or at least that we have a close relationship.
All I can do is smile.
Luis
When everyone breaks away from the tour, I head to my room, but I throw my bag on the bed and go straight to Bennet. We’ve got two mysteries to figure out, one of which may be easier than I thought, considering now Bennet is in on my secret. Or part of it at least.
He knows that I have strong suspicions that he and I are related, that his dad also fathered me and then left us to rot. I haven’t told him that I believe his father fed my mother pills for years until she overdosed. I’m starting to understand the nature of his relationship with Adley, but I still don’t know if he would block my attempts at bringing his father down. Would he defend him or warn him in time to cover his tracks?
For now, we need to confirm the blood relation, and we also need to bring Jackson in and tell him. I looked up some old pictures on my phone this morning while I was waiting for go time, and Bennet is right. Jackson is the spitting image of a young Jackson Adley.
Bennet’s room door is open, so I knock and call out to him as I walk in. He acknowledges me with a finger, on his phone, as usual. He’s busy pulling stuff out of boxes and setting things on the table. This is a pretty big room, but it doesn’t feel big enough for all his office stuff.
It doesn’t help that it looks like he’s had his full wardrobe delivered. Is he going to wear a suit every day?
It’s awkward to stand here while he’s talking on the phone, so I thumb through my phone and peek around the room for a few minutes until I hear Bennet hang up on whoever he’s talking to.
“You settled in already?” He says, still focusing on a box full of files.
“I didn’t bring much,” I shrug. “This is a nice place,” I say, trying to make polite conversation. I’m not good at chitchat, though, and Bennet sees right through it.
He quirks an eyebrow at me.
I get to the point. “How soon do we want to bring Jackson in on this?”
He nods thoughtfully, “Maybe we should do it now, get it over with so we can get to the next step.”
“I think he’s in with her.” I gesture to the room next door. He nods and mutters something along the lines of “stay here” and I try not to balk. We need to have a serious conversation about his compulsive need to order everyone around.
A minute later, he brings Jackson in, moving some stuff around so we can sit. Jackson and I are sitting on the couch, and Bennet pulls up a chair to sit in front of us.
Jackson leans over to me and whispers loudly. “Are we in trouble? Is Daddy mad?”
I can’t help but bark out a laugh. Bennet’s exasperated expression makes it even harder to hold in my laughter.
