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ONE

RHYS

T he first time I lay eyes on my half-brothers is when I’m standing in the pouring rain at my father’s funeral while they lower him into the ground.

They have no idea who I am. What can I even say? Hi, I’m the half-brother you’ve never met, and our father kept secret all our lives? I bet they don’t want to know I exist.

What the fuck am I even doing here?

I asked myself that a hundred times on the way over.

My mother warned me that our way of life would come to an end if they ever found out. I wasn’t allowed to talk to them, or even acknowledge my father was my father. We never would have been able to afford to live in the city or my sports fees on her teacher’s salary alone. I shouldn’t even be here. I shouldn’t have crossed the fucking bridge and come to Manhattan, but I couldn’t stop myself. I needed closure as much as they did.

I made a two-and-a-half-hour commute to barely catch the priest’s words. He talked about the legacy my father left, his sons and their promise. But nothing about me. I guess that’s expected when you’re the bastard. A designation I had no choice in.

Is this all the closure I get? A half a glance, soaked through to the bone, as I stand far enough away to not get involved. I don’t want to be that guy or disrupt things for his widow. I wasn’t after causing a scandal, that’s not why I showed up here.

I’m about to leave but one of my brothers spots me. He stares in my direction with a sneer on his mouth. He’s the type of guy who spends more on a single shirt that I do on a month’s rent. But I still want to know them. I’ve always wanted to know them. Being an only child to a single mother is lonely. I’ve thought about messaging them so many times but now that they are about to find out I exist, all I feel is dread.

But it’s inevitable. They’ll find out about me in an hour when we’re all present for the reading of our father’s will. The call from his lawyer freaked me out. He said I was named in the will. I read online to know it’s probably only enough so I can’t contest it.

Which is fine.

I never wanted any of his money. I only want my mother taken care of, which won’t happen now. She’s already behind on bills since his death. I hope the money I do get will at least get her caught up and buy us time to figure things out. If I have to get a job, there’s no way I’m going to be able to keep playing hockey in the juniors, let alone work to help her and juggle college even if I get a full ride. And I need to play at least a couple of years of college hockey before I have even a hope of getting drafted.

I inch forward as the priest finishes his prayer. One of my brothers slips an arm around his mom. She’s crying and I can’t reconcile the two images of my father. How he was to my mother and how he must have been with his family. I hadn’t seen much of him, but what I had I didn’t like.

But I’m here, so what does that say about me?

What am I still doing here?

I should have left.

My brother leans over to whisper to someone while slipping their hands together. His husband? He’s wearing a ring. They look over at me again. I take a step back under their stare.

Why didn’t I bring a fucking umbrella.

I need to go. I can’t afford a cab and it’s going to take me an hour to get back to the lawyer’s office. I retreat and my brother’s eyes follow me all the way out of the cemetery.

I walk into the fancy law office like a soggy cat, catching a glimpse of myself in the wall of mirrors as I give my name to the receptionist. I shove a hand into my hair, steeling myself. Fuck ‘em. If they don’t like me, they don’t have to, but I’m not hiding anymore.

They are all sitting in a conference room when I’m shown in late. Who’s surprised the train took forever to get here?

“Great, we can get started,” the lawyer says commanding the room.

My brother’s glare follows me all the way to my seat. “What is the meaning of this? Why is this random guy here?”

The lawyer presses his lips together. “He was invited by me, Oliver.”

“Why?” my brother—Oliver—narrows his eyes and then it seems to dawn on him. Recognition dawns in his eyes and his mouth drops open. “Never mind.” His twin, Owen, elbows him and leans over to whisper something. He just shakes his head and scoffs. Everyone in their little group is staring at me.

“Now that everyone is present, let’s get on with it, shall we?” the lawyer asks.

No one makes a sound.

I cross my arms over my chest, refusing to look over at the lot of them.

“Great,” the lawyer mutters. “I was Mr. Godfreys’ lawyer for the last thirty years, as most of you know. I have his will here, and I’ve called you all together to formally go over his assets.”

A pin could drop, and it would sound like a bomb in the silence in here. I resist the urge to shift in my seat.

“First off, we have the penthouse which he leaves to his wife. This includes all his possessions in the property and a trust to ensure her needs are met for the rest of her life. He has left each of his children a safe deposit box which I have the keys for and will give you after we finish, along with instructions on how to access those. He has set up trusts for each of his children as well, which you should already know the details of. I have taken over as trustee, so if you have any questions you can direct those to my office.”

What the fuck?

Does that mean I have a trust? That couldn’t be. Mom wouldn’t be so stressed about money if she knew we had access to a trust. She’d been beside herself since she found out about dad’s death, worried about money. She’s spent night after night crying at the kitchen table trying to prioritize which bills to pay. I already told her I’d get a part-time job to help out even though it would kill me to give up hockey. My mind reels—but it hits me—did she know?

I need to focus on what the lawyer is saying. I probably already missed a ton.

“As for his ownership stake in Godfrey Group, he is dividing the shares between all of his sons which means they will each get seventeen percent. While his daughter will get an equal amount in cash.” The lawyer goes over a few more details and other accounts but that’s basically it.

All of his sons.

Does that mean?

He sets down the papers and looks like he’s about to stand when one of my brothers clears his throat. “Yes, Oliver?”

“I’m confused,” he says in a bit of a condescending tone. “Maybe you can assist me with the math.”

“What are you confused about?” the lawyer asks.

“The percent of his ownership stake in his company. Seventeen plus seventeen is thirty-four. I thought he owned fifty-one percent?” Oliver’s stare is icy, and I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end.

“The shares were divided three ways,” the lawyer answers matter of factly.

My stomach flips and my ears start ringing. I barely hear what else they say.

I own seventeen percent of his company. Wouldn’t that make me… rich?

“Don’t we need a DNA test? We are just taking his mother’s word for this?” Oliver cuts in.

The lawyer gives him a flat look, not taking any of his crap. “Your father is on his birth certificate and named him as a son. As far as the law is concerned?—”

“He could have easily been deceived,” Oliver replies like it’s nothing.

“It doesn’t matter if he was…” Owen says softly.

Oliver turns on his twin and blinks. A low growl comes from him, but it doesn’t scare me. It makes me want to fight him like we are on the ice. I’m not about to back down to anyone.

“I thought maybe I should introduce myself.” I offer my hand.

Oliver looks me over with disdain written on his mouth. “Did you know?”

“Yes,” I admit, because I know what he’s getting at. I knew about them.

“And you never said anything to us?”

“It wasn’t my place.” It feels stupid as I say it.

“No? It wasn’t your place to introduce yourself before you showed up to pretend to be our father’s son? But now you’re not going to try and act like my brother?” he scoffs looking down on me. “No thank you.”

I get why he’s hurt. I’m sure I would be, but anger quickly takes over as he tries to shove past me. I step with him, preventing it. “There is no reason to be a dick. I didn’t choose any of this.”

“No, just to show up here and take our family legacy and shatter our mother.”

“I didn’t do that. Our parents did.” Anger fills my chest. I’m tired of suffering for my father’s mistakes.

“You certainly didn’t stop it. Did you?”

“What would you have liked me to do as a kid? His sins are not mine.”

“At least you knew.”

I’m left speechless.

“That’s what I thought.”

“You don’t get to treat me like shit because you’re mad at him. Take it up with him.”

“You may own a small percent of the company but you will never be a part of the family.” Oliver’s words feel final.

“I never fucking asked to be.”

I’m not elated riding the train back to Brooklyn. I should be happy about the money, but I can’t find it in me. There’s too much other shit in my brain, and I can’t begin to process any of it. It’s like my entire world shifted in the last two hours and I don’t know where I stand anymore. I don’t know who I am and I’m not even sure I know anyone other than my best friend. Everyone has been lying to me, or at least that’s what it feels like. Why didn’t my mother tell me about the trust fund?

I’d stayed after to talk to the lawyer about it. Evidently it went into effect when I turned 18 and would cover college and living expenses until I was twenty-five. After that, I could do whatever I want with it. This money will solve all our financial problems and I have no idea why Mom didn’t tell me instead of making me worry that I may have to juggle hockey and working to help support us. She wasn’t too proud to take child support all these years, why the fuck is this different?

I need a damn drink, and I need my best friend.

Tobi: How did it go?

Rhys: You’re never going to believe this.

Tobi: Are you rich? Because if you’re rich, you get to buy the beer.

Rhys: Get your brother to buy it. You know they’ll card me. Tell him I’ll give him cash.

I’m still at a total loss when I take a seat next to Tobi.

“I just don’t know what to do about it all. Part of me doesn’t want to deal.” I sigh and pick up my beer.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to use your money.”

“She was fine with me getting a job?”

“Maybe she doesn’t want you to use their money?”

I lift my shoulders in a shrug. “But she was fine taking money from him for all those years?”

Tobi makes a face. “Everything you think is obvious.”

“I cannot help that I have expressive eyebrows.” I flop back on his bed. “Where is your mom?”

“At the lab, I think.”

“At nine pm on a Saturday?”

“She’s really weird about those mushrooms she’s growing.”

“Like the psychedelic kind?”

Tobi shakes his head. “No, that would be fun.”

“What about your brother?” I ask, not wanting to act like I care, because I don’t.

Tobi’s older brother is everything a hot jock should be, but I can’t think about him. Tobi would freak out if I went there.“Who knows? He’s probably off drunk, dying in an alley.” Tobi and his brother don’t get along.

They’ve always been competitive with each other, but I can’t figure out why. Tobi has always been more like his mother—analytical, studious, and more of the serious side.

Teddy is the exact opposite. He’s two years older than us, and going to start playing for Summerset in the fall. He stayed in the junior leagues longer for development but now he’s going to be the starting Goalie.

“I’m thinking about taking that offer from the Gods this fall now that I don’t have to worry about money.” Both Summerset Olympians and New York Gods offered me a spot to play in college this year, and I’d planned on taking the offer from Summerset because it would have covered more of the tuition, but I liked the Gods’ coach and program better.

Tobi whips around. “And not go to Summerset?”

“I’m thinking about it. New York is where my brothers and father went to school, and it’s a better hockey program. I like their new coach.”

“I just can’t believe you’d switch from Summerset.”

“Who’s switching from Summerset?” his brother’s voice rings from the doorway.