Page 80 of Off Script

Jacob’s jaw shifted, betraying the strain beneath his stillness. “I keep thinking I should be pissed. Or sad. Or something.”

This time, Liam let their fingers brush. Jacob didn’t pull away. “There’s no right way to do this. You just have to get through it.”

That made Jacob look at him, really look. In his eyes was something heavier than gratitude or affection, it was something unnamed that settled in Liam’s chest and stayed there.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Jacob said, voice rough.

Liam swallowed around the knot in his throat. “Yeah. Me too.”

Under the thin shade of a tree just beyond the grave, someone stood watching. It took Liam only a glance to know who it was. He had the same pale blue eyes as Jacob, dark curls framing a lean build, and a face that still held the softness of his early twenties. He leaned against the trunk with quiet defiance, his attention not on the grave, but on Jacob.

“That’s Knox, right?” Liam murmured.

Jacob didn’t look up. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Are you gonna talk to him?”

“No.” The answer was quick, like a door closing before anything could slip through. Yet even as he said it, Liam saw something shift in his expression—not coldness, but wariness. As if Knox’s presence had scraped against an old wound Jacob had tried hard to keep buried.

“He has the same eyes as you.”

Jacob’s mouth curved without humor. “Gift from our daddy dearest. All the men on his side have ’em.”

Liam glanced back. Knox was still there, eyes fixed on Jacob, his gaze observant and assessing. Then, as if sensing the weight of Liam’s stare, his gaze shifted. For a beat their eyes held, a flicker of a smirk curving his mouth—more a dare than a greeting. Then Knox turned and walked away, as if neither this place nor the people in it could hold his attention for long.

When Knox disappeared down the path, the cemetery finally felt empty. The last of the mourners drifted away, until only silence and sun-bleached grass remained.

After a moment, Jacob stepped away to speak with the family lawyer—something about paperwork and signatures. Liam gave them space, heading for the car, waiting in the brittle shade of a tree that looked like it had been dying for years.

He wasn’t alone for long. Footsteps scuffed the dry ground behind him. When he turned, Knox stood there. Up close, the resemblance was sharper. Not so much in his features as in the way he carried himself—as though every muscle in his body had learned early how to brace for impact.

“You’re not family,” Knox said.

“No.”

“You here for him?” He tilted his chin toward Jacob, who was half-hidden behind the cemetery wall.

“Yes, I am.”

Knox’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied him. “You his friend?”

Liam hesitated. “Something like that.”

A knowing smirk pulled at his mouth. “Right.” His gaze drifted over the cracked pavement, the lines of cars, and the hum of the freeway, before settling back on Liam. “Did he tell you about me?”

“Only that you’re his half-brother. That the dad who left him… raised you.”

Knox’s jaw worked, a muscle ticking. “He stayed for me. Doesn’t mean he did a good job with either of us.”

He bent, plucked a twig from the ground, and rolled it between his fingers. “You know what I kept thinking during the service?” His grin was humorless. “That every word they said about him was a lie. Made me wonder who the hell they were burying, because it sure as shit wasn’t my dad.” The twig snapped with a quick crack, before he tossed the pieces aside.

Liam watched him carefully. “Were you not close to him?”

A shrug. “Close enough to bury the bastard. That’s about it.”

There was no grief in his tone, just a sharpness that cut through the air.

“You knew about Jacob before today?”