Page 61 of A Touch of Frost
“It’s okay.” I told him. “You’re okay.
He stopped struggling and sobbed into my shoulder while he returned my hug. My big brother had been broken from what happened to him and though I was unsure of how I wanted to proceed with him, it killed me.
“You’re safe.” I dragged a hand up to the back of his head. “I got you. I promise, I got you.”
I glanced toward Lizard who was still standing at the door, but now with Frost and Black Widow. Not sure if I should say anything, I nodded toward them and they backed out of the space, leaving me alone with Paul.
“Jesus, I’m a mess.” Paul gathered himself and leaned back against the pillows.
“You are a mess.” I confirmed. “But this isn’t a mess of your doing.”
“It doesn’t really matter, right?”
“Of course, it does.” I told him. “You went through hell, Paul. No one expects you to be unscathed by this.”
“But I’m letting you down again.”
I sighed. “Do you think you can stand?”
He nodded.
“Come on.” I told him, pushing the sheets back and helping him off the bed. “Let’s go outside at the back. The fresh air will do you good.”
When he stood at first, Paul was wavey on his feet. He didn’t seem to be gaining weight fast enough, but Lizard wasn’t worried.
I’d talk to them about that once Paul was sleeping again.
As we walked through the room, he leaned heavily on me. Though he looked around at Black Widow, Lizard and Frost, he merely nodded in their direction and we sat on the top step at the back. I figured he wasn’t ready for stairs yet.
As he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply with the ocean breeze ruffling his hair, I took a close look at Paul. He looked so much like my father. Everything from his dark hair and strong cheekbones.
I smiled then turned my attention toward the water in the distance, allowing him a moment to breathe, a moment to enjoy the freedom that had been snatched away from him for so long.
“I think I might have the answer to why our parents treated you so poorly.” Paul’s voice trembled. “I didn’t find this out until last year and by then—I’d already lost you.”
I said nothing.
“When I was five, mom had an affair.” Paul explained.
The bottom fell out of my chest.
“As they explained it to me, dad was working all the time.” Paul cleared his throat. “Mom got lonely and had a one-night stand with someone.”
I shifted so I could stare at Paul. I knew what he was trying to tell me—that my father wasn’t my father. That all this time I thought I knew who I was, but I had no idea.
Paul was basically telling me my entire life had been a lie.
But if I was to be honest, Paul looked nothing like me. His jet black hair came from my mother and his deep, almost otherworldly blue eyes were my father’s.
I, on the other hand, had sandy blond hair and brown eyes.
“Who is my father?” I asked.
Paul shook his head then met my gaze. “I don’t know.” He admitted. “I tried getting mom to tell me, but I guess I was yelling at her. All she did was cry then got drunk and locked herself in the bathroom threatening to slit her wrist.”
“Who am I?”
“You’re Jesse Ackert.” Paul told me.
