The Girl's Got Secrets (Forbidden Men #7)(47)

I glanced sideways at him. “Come again?”

He shook his head as if the whole thing baffled him too. “No one really knows yet...not officially, anyway. But, uh, he...turns out, after I started playing the song ‘Ceilings,’ I learned he’d been abandoned by his mother at birth at the hospital, and...”

“Holy shit,” I murmured. “Your boss ended up being your long-lost half-brother? How the hell does that even happen?”

Asher glanced at me, his expression dazed. “I ask myself the same question every day.”

“So, wait. How long have you known about this? You’ve only been playing ‘Ceilings’ a couple—”

“Weeks,” he finished for me. “We got test results back around three weeks ago. And it’s still...really new.”

I blew out a breath. “Dude. That’s just...”

When I shook my head, he nodded. “I know.”

“Why haven’t you guys officially announced it?” I wondered, fearing the worst for poor Asher. “Doesn’t he want to be your brother?”

He nodded, turning back to the picture of himself. “Yeah. Strangely, he does. I’m actually the one holding back.”

I squinted. “So...you don’t like him?”

“No, I do.” He turned to me, his gaze desperate and seeking. “That’s the problem. He’s this really awesome, stand-up guy, right? And...he’s my brother. That’s just...better than I ever expected it could be. But...he’s going to ask about her.”

I shook my head. “About who?”

“About our mom,” he ground out. “It’s only logical, isn’t it? Wouldn’t you want to know about your mother if you just met a brother who knew her and you never did?”

When I opened my mouth to answer that yeah, I guess I would, he kept talking.

“You know he’s going to want to know everything. He’s going to want to know what kind of a person she was, how she died, and I’m going to have to be the one to tell him what a miserable existence she led and who killed her. And then what’s he going to think of me after that? I’m the son of his mother’s murderer. He doesn’t know everything in my ‘Ceilings’ song is true. What if he learns it is and wants nothing to do with me? I can’t...” He shook his head, looking miserable. “I’m just not ready to risk that. My entire life is in this building, and he could take all that away with a single word.”

I cleared my throat and scratched my ear. “So...you haven’t told him anything about your mom or dad yet?”

He shook his head, his green eyes filled with dread.

“And he hasn’t asked?”

“No. Not yet. But you know he will.”

I blew out a breath and shrugged. “Honestly, I think you should just say something to him because...I have a feeling he already knows what happened to your mom...and who killed her.”

His expression morphed from concern to confusion. “Huh?”

The door opened, and Pick stepped inside.

When I glanced at his brother and then back to him, Asher must’ve seen something in my expression. He narrowed his eyes, and his face cleared with some kind of understanding.

He spun toward Pick. “What the hell is going on?” Then he whirled to me, glaring. “What did you tell him?”

I lifted my hands, glad I was free from guilt in this regard. “Nothing. I didn’t say shit to anyone. I would never betray a confidence like that.” Especially now that I knew what he’d told me really was confidential.

Pick cleared his throat, letting me know he’d take over.

When I shut up, Asher darted leery glances between the two of us before demanding, “What?”

“Miller Hart was just in the club,” Pick announced.

Color leeched from Asher’s face. Then he shook his head. “Excuse me?”

“Knox recognized him from when they were in Statesburg together.”

“Wait.” Asher lifted both hands, only to burrow them into his hair and clutch his head. His frantic gaze shot to Pick. “How do you even know anything about...him?”

With a small exhalation, Pick sat on the corner of his desk and folded his hands down at his knees. “Come on, Asher, how do you think? I went online and found out everything I could about you the night you left that message on my phone, before I even sent for the DNA test results. It led me to articles about Polly Ruddick...and her death, and her killer, Miller Hart.”





Oh, Jesus. This was more than I could take. Pick knew. He knew everything.

“So...all this time...you already knew?”

He nodded.

I gasped a second for air, scared shitless, and then it dawned on me. He knew...had known a while, and he hadn’t fired me or kicked me out of his life yet.

“And you’re still okay with...” I waved a finger between us. “Us?”

Pick arched surprised eyebrows. “Were you really worried I wouldn’t want to be your...?” He paused and glanced uneasily toward Sticks.

My drummer hunched deeper into himself, totally caught eavesdropping on our very personal conversation.

But I snorted and waved a hand his way. “He already knows.”

That seemed to take Pick by surprise. “Really?”