Page 54 of Baja

“Get what, babe?”

Alice locks her eyes on mine. “Your protectiveness.”

“Like father, like son, baby.” I kiss her.

By the time breakfast wraps up, it’s late in the morning, and there’s more shit to do than time in the day. Alice joins the women, helping them clear the tables while I step outside for fresh air.

“Mind if we join you?” Dad’s voice comes from behind me, and I turn around to see him and Mom. He’s got that serious Dad look on his face.

“What?”

They exchange glances, and my mom says, “We need to talk.”

“Okay?”

“We’ve wanted to talk to you about this for a long time, but we have never found the right time. Not that this is the right time.” Mom looks away, wringing her hands nervously, and Iworry about what the hell they are going to spring on me. “If I’m being honest, I’ve been terrified for you to know the truth.”

“One of you dyin’?” I blurt out because it is the only thought floating in my head.

Mom looks at me. “No one is dying, son.”

I let out a deep breath. “Just lay it on me, Ma. Sometimes, you gotta say it like it is…” I raise a brow. “No sugarcoating, good or bad. Truth’s the only thing that matters.”

“Uncle Jax is your father.”

I stare at her, trying to make sense of what she said. “Excuse me?”

She drops a bombshell I never saw coming, her words hitting me like a freight train.

I glance at my dad, the man who raised me, and he looks pained.

“Not long after you were born, my brother showed up with you sleeping in a car seat. He told us your birth mom abandoned you after stating he was the father.”

“How the fuck does he even know if some random piece of ass told him the truth.” My words have a sharp edge to them.

“He took a paternity test,” Dad adds. “He didn’t feel he could do right by you, Nash. One look at you, and I couldn’t say no.”

Everything around me tilts.

My chest tightens like an anaconda coiling around my body.

I don’t know what to say.

Anger, confusion, and betrayal all churn inside me, but I can’t let it out.

I turn to face my parents.

Mom’s eyes are filled with tears.

Beside her, my dad holds her at his side.

“I gotta go.” I brush past them, heading for my bike and taking off. The engine roar does nothing to drown out the noise inside my head. I hit the open road, and the wind cuts throughme as I pick up speed, trying to outrun my problems, my mind repeating the exact words repeatedly.

Uncle Jax is your father.

I ride until the anger fades.

A hollow ache replaces it.