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“Idontknow,” comes out in a whispered jumble. “Not here.”
“He fucking should be there.”
Agreed.
“He fucking shouldn’t be anywhere else but there.”
Double agreed.
“And I’m gonna be right there to tell him that shit to his fucking face.” Calen doesn’t wait for any type of rebuttal or rejection of his declaration. “Text me the address, Bryn. I’m on my way.”
Chapter 16
Wes
I don’t know this man.
Yes, at first glance he looks like my father.
In every single one of these photos.
He has his same build.
Eye color.
Hair.
However, his style is wrong.
There are no designer suits or shoes.
Just jeans.
And boots.
And belt buckles.
Fuck, this man had more belt buckles in his possession than the one who named me had ties.
And the man I called my father had a ton of ties.
I carelessly toss the photo of him happily holding a pregnant woman off to the left to join the others in the pile.
Or fall to the floor.
Doesn’t matter.
There’s no need to preserve this shit.
It’s mostly just copies.
Why?
Because his other child – which is what all of this evidence is pointing out to be true – is smart.
And cunning.
But me?
