Page 33 of Outlaw Heartstrings
Rocco barks out a laugh. He laughs so hard that his burger falls from his hands, landingsplat!on the front of his white T-shirt.
Meanwhile, Lincoln just rolls his eyes, leaning back and taking a casual chug from his pint glass.
“What…?” I ask, my gaze bouncing back and forth between the guys.
Lincoln picks up his phone and starts scrolling. “Let’s see…” he mutters casually. “How many fake paternity scams have we been through over the years…?”
Rocco grabs a paper napkin and starts scrubbing ketchup from the front of his T-shirt. “My favorite was that girl from Colorado who made an entire Instagram account with photoshopped pictures of you and your non-existent daughter.” He’s snort-laughing his ass off as he continues to scrub condiments from the fabric of his ruined shirt. “Or the girl who said you knocked her up and started giving all those talk show interviews until Lincoln’s private investigator discovered that she was wearing a prosthetic belly the whole time.”
Lincoln just shakes his head. “After the first handful of hoaxes, I stopped even taking those fatherhood allegations seriously.”
“Those situations were different,” I say. “This time, it’s not the same.”
Rocco sets down his napkin, peering at me through narrowed eyes. “Wait—you…you actually slept with Alba Anderson? You dog. That girl was practically engaged to Christopher What’s-His-Face when we left town. How the fuck did you end up getting her pregnant?”
I growl, so damn frustrated with this conversation. With the whole situation. “Not Alba. Her sister. Raya.”
At the mention of Raya, both of the guys snap to attention. I can see that the gravity of the situation is finally starting to sink in.
“Raya?” Lincoln asks, his concern growing exponentially.
“Raya had the hots for you,” Rocco recalls in a whisper. “Everybody fucking knew it. But you refused to give her the time of day.”
I tear off my cap to yank on my hair some more. “Yeah, well, I hooked up with her once before we left town. And now, we have a kid together.”
Rocco falls back against his seat. “Fuuucccckkkk…” he utters.
Meanwhile, Lincoln looks around the room, his eyes wide with alarm. “Can you not say that so loud? Not until we know for sure. You need to do a paternity test.”
A paternity test. Right. A paternity test didn’t even cross my mind until Alba mentioned it. In the whole emotional shitshow of this morning, all I could think about was making things right with Jagger. ASAP.
Because the truth is, I knew. Even before I knew he was my son, Iknew. If that even makes any sense.
“We don’t need a paternity test. The kid looks just like me.” I mumble and I know that Lincoln’s getting ready to start arguing with me.
My oldest brother slams a palm down on the tabletop, making the glassware and the utensils clatter and clank. “For crying out loud, dumbass,” he says through his teeth. “We’re getting a paternity test, Easton. Because you have too much to lose if this isn’t really your child.”
I know he’s right. I do.
Still, my eyes shift to Rocco for help. He shrugs. “I don’t know. This whole thing is giving telephone scammer fraud vibes. This is Raya Anderson we’re talking about. Better safe than sorry.”
With a growl, I bring my eyes back to Lincoln and concede. “Fine.”
He’s already got his phone gripped in his hand as he slides to the edge of the booth. “I’ve got some phone calls to make.” Lawyers, I imagine. Yeah. He’s getting the lawyers involved for sure.
I slump back in my seat. This is just great.
Lincoln’s narrowed eyes scan over my face as if he’s trying to figure me out. “You actually want this kid to be yours…” he says, realization dawning on him.
A breath spills from my lungs and I tell the truth. “I do. I really, really do.”
After all the things I learned from Alba this morning, IwantJagger to be mine. Iwantto be the dad he never got to have. The dadInever got to have.
Yet still, I can’t be an idiot about this.
“Do what you’ve got to do,” I grumble into my glass ofsparkling water, effectively entrusting my fate into my big brother’s hands.
Lincoln reaches out to squeeze my shoulder. “I hope you get the outcome you’re looking for, brother. I’ve got your back either way. But we’ve got to be smart about this.” He turns and hustles off.
