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“You have a sibling?” I ask in utter surprise.
He leans back, lifting his hands behind his head and stares up at the ceiling. “A half-brother,” he murmurs. The level of disappointment in his voice is probably a clue why I didn’t know about him. Although, he’s never mentioned his mom either.
“Tell me about your mom,” I say. A lazy smile crawls up one side of his face as he brings his attention back to me. It’s sexy as hell.
“She’s a fan of yours.”
I sit up taller, placing the iPad on the table and cross my legs. “Really?” I prompt, smiling ecstatically. “Where does she live? You’ve never talked about her.” Learning about his mom has piqued my interest, I have so many questions.
“She’s in North Carolina.” Figures he doesn’t offer any other information until he senses I’m about to ask more questions. “She lives there with my step-father, Brad and Rex is their kid.”
Hmm, Max and Rex.
As if reading my mind, he says, “My mom has a thing with the letter X.”
Him rolling his eyes makes me chuckle. “It’s cute.”
“It’s not,” he responds flatly. “He’s younger by five years and a total fuckup. Every time he gets into trouble, my mom calls and guilts me into helping him out. It’s getting old.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Sorry. I’m a pro at having fucked up family members.”
“Let’s not go down that road. I’m still pissed about your aunt.” I sigh, dropping my head, hating that he witnessed my aunt straight-up lie that she didn’t know me. But that’s been my life of being discarded so easy. “Tink, look at me,” he softly commands. I lift my head. “It’s their loss, not yours. They don’t deserve you.”
If only it was my aunt that felt that way. But it’s my mom. That’s probably why hearing that Max’s mom likes me gives me life.
“Look.” He picks up his phone, searching for something and then hands it to me.
A small gasp escapes my lips as I stare at a picture of Max and his mom standing in front of a lake house. “Max, she’s beautiful.” The gorgeous petite blond, who’s arm barely reaches around Max, is peering up to her son, the love she has for him evident by her bright smile. I can’t stop staring. Especially the part where Max is smiling down at her too. It’s the perfect picture. The feelings I have for Max jump to a new level and it startles me. I tear my gaze away and hand the phone back to him. “Was your dad tall? Because you tower over your mom.”
He nods as he eyes the picture and then puts his phone down. “He was six foot.”
I wonder if his dad had a hero complex too. Is that why they like petite women? The need to feel superior in the relationship because they can protect their woman. Seeing that picture, it’s obvious he takes after his dad in type. His mom is my size. Petite.
“What’s going through that head of yours?”
I wave my hand around. “Nothing.” As if I’d tell him I was stereotyping him. “How long were your parents married?”
“They never married.”
“Oh.”
He shrugs. “I'm the result of a one-night stand. My dad was too busy building an empire to make time for a wife, so my mom never pursued a romantic relationship. And he never tried to change her mind.”
I swallow, folding my hands in my lap and bite my tongue. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Both our attention turns to the door where music floats in from the guys messing around. We both chuckle when we hear Tug butcher my song. That’s why we don’t have him sing. It surprises me when Max continues. “My mom met Dan when I was three, Rex came five years later.”
“Have you and Rex ever been close?”
“Not really. He’s always been the annoying little brother. He’s an entitled punk ass who acts like life handed him a shitty hand because he’s not me.”
My eyes widen. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel,” I joke. “Is he really that bad?”
I wanted a sibling so bad growing up; I prayed every night that my dad would accidentally get my mom pregnant again. We’d be so close because we would have each other. I was eleven when I found out my mom had her tubes tied right after she had me. Talk about a dream killer. Which is why it’s hard for me to understand the distaste Max has for his brother.
Max lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Yes. When he was ten, he started stealing. A candy bar here, a bag of chips there. It started small. His ill-gotten gains increased in worth over time. He honed in on his craft and became great at stealing without being caught. Might be the only thing he’s ever been good at.” Max disappointedly shakes his head. “Then he put a team together.”
I lean on the table, snap my gaping mouth shut. This is crazy. “Like a legit Ocean’s Eleven team?”
