Ties

Chapter Fifty-Two

"Peyton," I repeat the name as Briar's eyes stay on mine with a quizzical look. "She was... Parker's sister?" I sit here, in the passenger seat, stunned, and almost completely sober now with the recent information, causing my head to spin like I'm on some sort of scrambler ride—I think I might throw up.

"Who the fuck!?" Briar's voice hardly croaks out as she swallows loudly. "Did you know that? Did you know she was—"

"Are you kidding me? Of course not!" I yell out into the car, running my hands through my hair, close to ripping it out. "Holy shit, this is twisted," I add, looking over at her yet again. "Remember at your party, after high school graduation? That chick? She didn't go to our school," I say the words quickly, the hazy memory barely making its way to my head. Not to sound like a total slut but, well, my early years—and also my more recent—had been filled with multiple bangs, one night affairs, fucks and chucks. But a name like that I couldn't forget. I mean, I was just out of high school, and the testosterone was flowing. Not like it still isn't, but shit!

"No, I don't remember. You were practically a man whore. If I tried to recall even a quarter of the names of your past conquests, I'd have a list a mile long." Briar lifts her shoulders in a fake apologetic shrug, always trying to interject humor, even into the most stressful, weird as what the fuck, situations.

"Alright, alright. Give me a second." Pressing a fingertip to my temples, I attempt to dull the heavy thud pounding in my head.

"So, according to this..." She holds up the handwritten four-page letter, accompanying six sheets of names, and contact info—calling out other people who my mother believed to be blackmailed by Fife. "According to this and fuck, I'm not even sure if you'd need a test." She nod to the picture that's sitting in my lap. How'd I never see it? I mean, I'd never had a reason to suspect, but what the hell?! "So according to this—"

"I know," I cut her off, completely unsure of which type of emotion I'm supposed to have here. Let's just go with stunned. We are almost identical, at least from the looks of this old picture of me. I feel like I'm staring directly at—

"Blaze is your..." Briar says, still in her state of very few words, which isn't a common occurrence. It usually takes some sort of earth-shattering, life-changing news to get her caught up. Oh, wait...

"My son."