Sitting here, I remember I probably won’t have a car when I get back—I make a mental note to call Ena and tell her to do whatever she has to do to get my car out of impound and have it delivered to my house. I think today is Sunday, but I’ve lost track of the days. Once the wheels touch the ground I turn my phone on to check the date and there are more than twenty missed calls and messages. Fuck. I turn it back off. It is Sunday—a day of rest—and I think I’ll take advantage of it.
I manage to exit the secure area of the terminal in record time. There’s some kind of commotion in the airport. There are at least twenty reporters and photographers in the vicinity. Cameras are to eyes and microphones are in hands as soon as I exit security, and they all head toward me. A woman shoves her microphone in my face and asks, “Is it true that Dylan Wolf was your biological father?”
That stops me in my tracks. There are more strangers surrounding me, yelling out ridiculous questions that seem more like statements. It hurts to breathe. I swallow hard as cameras flash repeatedly in my face. “Come again. What?”
“Haven’t you heard? Josh Wolf passed away this morning, and his son Damon announced that you are his nephew.”
A sick feeling unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before overtakes me. Still, I just stand there and stare at her. What the hell is she talking about?
“Do you have a comment? Dylan Wolf died before you were born but were you close with Josh Wolf? How do you feel about sharing control of Sheep Industries with Damon Wolf? Are you in love with Ivy Taylor? Did your mother love your father . . .” Questions from all directions and of all kinds surround me and I can’t answer a single one. How is this happening? I only just learned Damon had a twin brother who overdosed and now I’m hearing his name again. Where the hell did this come from? What are these people talking about?
“Xander!” I hear Jack’s voice calling my name.
I look ahead and see his face through the crowd. My heart pounds in my chest and threatens to break in two—why is he here to pick me up? His expression looks pained, and right away I know that what these people are yelling out can be nothing but the truth. He approaches me with a team of airport security behind him. Clutching my arm, he tries to thread us through the vultures.
“Come on, follow me,” he directs, and I do, only because I need to get the hell away from the chaos that’s trailing behind me.
His car is parked out front and he opens his door. I get in, feeling numb. He stops and talks to one of the men on the security team, then climbs in the car.
“Xander . . .” Jack reaches across the car to touch my shoulder.
He pulls me out of my trance and I jerk away. “What the hell is going on?”
“I want your mother to explain this to you.”
Through gritted teeth I say, “Jack, I need you to tell me what the hell’s going on.”
He pulls out of the airport and speeds onto the highway. “Josh Wolf died today and his son Damon decided to make a public announcement.”
“I fucking gathered that. Is it true?”
He grips the steering wheel and hits the gas. A minute passes and he still doesn’t answer me.
“Is it true?” I yell.
“Yes, son, it is.”
“Pull over now. I need a drink.”
“Your mother is waiting for us at home.”
A scowl tightens my mouth. “I’m not your fucking son and I said I need a drink. Either pull off at the next exit or stop the car so I can get out.”
Veering off the highway, he takes a right. He pulls into a dive bar just outside the city and I bolt out of the car. He follows and catches up with me inside the joint. “Look, I want your mother to explain everything, but you should know a few things.”
I glare at him from where I’m sitting at the bar. “What exactly are ‘a few things’? I think there is one thing—that Nick Wilde wasn’t my father and she never told me.”
“You’re wrong, son. Nick may not have been your biological father, but he was your father in the ways that count.”
“Scotch, neat. Make it a double,” I order. The bartender pours the amber liquid in a tumbler and I pound it back, then slam the glass down. I nod and he pours another.
“What do you know about it?” I ask Jack, after I’ve finished off the second glass and motioned the bartender back over.
“Two shots of tequila,” I tell the bartender, deciding a couple of shots might help faster than another drink.
“I only know what your mother told me today.”
I shrug my shoulders. “So she kept you in the dark, too. Why is that?”
“Xander, I understand you’re upset—and you have every right to be—but I think you need to let your mother explain everything to you.”
I lick the back of my hand and salt it. I tilt the shot back and suck on the lime, then toss back the second one straight up.
“What happened? Did she cheat on Nick when he was on the road? Was that the catalyst behind his career tanking?”
His hand grips my shoulder and this time he’s not trying to comfort me—he’s warning me. “I get this is a shock and I’ll let you take the brunt of it out on me. But I’m telling you right now, you will listen to your mother and treat her with the respect she deserves.”