The Hawthorne Legacy (The Inheritance Games #2)(46)

“You sit,” Alisa told me. “You sip on hot chocolate. We get a few pictures—and we get you out.”

That was her plan. We had our own. Namely, identify the boy in the photo. Xander seemed to think that some of the staff at the lodge had worked here for decades. Given how tight security was on me, I wasn’t holding my breath that I’d be able to do this myself, but Max and Xander were a different story.

So were Thea and Rebecca.

Oren let the four of them venture off to the bathroom with a single guard. When they came back ten minutes later, that bodyguard looked like he had developed a migraine.

“These two,” Max told me, nodding toward Thea and Rebecca, “are really useful in getting information out of people.”

“Thea’s better at flirting,” Rebecca murmured.

Thea met Rebecca’s eyes. “And you’re a very quick learner.”

“What did they find out?” I asked Max and Xander.

“The guy in the photo used to work on the mountain.” Max was clearly relishing this. “He was a ski instructor, early twenties. Very big with the ladies.”

“Did you get a name?” I asked.

Xander was the one who provided that answer. “Jake Nash.”

Jake. My brain whirred. Nash.





CHAPTER 45


In the wake of that bombshell, Xander went to find Jameson and Grayson. Hours later, all three brothers returned from the slopes, looking scraped up and worse for the wear. Jameson eased himself into a wingback chair.

“Don’t bleed on that,” Grayson ordered.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jameson retorted. “What are your thoughts on vomiting in that vase?”

“You’re an idiot,” Grayson replied.

“You’re all idiots,” I corrected. They turned to look at me. I was wearing a pair of thick winter pajamas, part of the True North wardrobe Alisa had ordered for me. “Did Xander tell you what we found?”

“What I found, Heiress,” Jameson corrected me, then smiled. “I know about the picture. The page with what we can assume is likely a message of some kind, written in invisible ink.”

Grayson studied me for a moment, then turned to Xander. “What else did you find?”

“For the record,” Xander said grandly, hobbling over to sit on the fireplace, “I won the Drop.” He looked down at his feet. “And I might have neglected to mention that the guy in that photo is Nash’s father.”

That statement had the exact effect it was supposed to—on Jameson and Grayson. But I wasn’t surprised. After what we’d learned at the lodge, it was the logical conclusion. All four of the Hawthorne brothers had last names as first names. Grayson’s father was Sheffield Grayson. The guy in the picture—the guy Zara had her arm around—was Jake Nash.

You knew, the note in the closet had read, and you did it anyway.

“Are you going to tell Nash?” I asked the boys.

“Tell me what?”

I turned to see Nash in the doorway, Libby beside him. “Tell him what?” She narrowed her eyes at the silence that followed. “Come on, Ave,” Libby groaned. “No more secrets.”

She was the reason I’d gotten to come here, and she had no idea why.

Across from me, Grayson stood. “Nash, might we have a moment outside?”





Alone with Libby, I had only a second or two to make a decision about what I was going to tell her. Looking at that plain brown hair, knowing everything she’d given up for me, it was a surprisingly easy decision to make.

I told her everything. About Harry and who he really was. About what we’d found in Toby’s wing. About my birth certificate and the charities in the will and why I’d wanted to come to True North.

“I know this is a lot,” I said.

Libby blinked four or five times. I waited for her to say something. Anything. “What are Grayson and Jameson telling Nash out there?” she asked finally.

There was no reason to hold back now, so I answered the question.

“So Nash’s father…,” she said.

“Is probably Jake Nash,” I confirmed.

“And your father…,” Libby looked at me and swallowed.

My father is Toby Hawthorne.

“It makes sense,” I said quietly. Unable to look her directly in the eye, I let my gaze travel to a massive window nearby. “Toby’s the one who signed my birth certificate, and we met for the first time right after Mom died. I think he was checking up on me. I think he meant for us to meet.” I paused. “I think Tobias Hawthorne knew everything.”

“And that’s why he left you the money.” Libby could read between the lines as well as I could. “If your dad isn’t Ricky,” she said slowly, “then you and I aren’t really…”

“If you say we aren’t sisters, I will flying-tackle you right here, right now.” I was fully prepared to do it, too, but Libby seemed to decide not to tempt me.

“Have you tried to find him?” she asked me instead. “Toby?”

I looked down. “Before I even knew who he was. Alisa’s people couldn’t find a trace of him.”

Libby snorted. Audibly. “Or so Alisa Ortega claims. Does she know who he is?”