a long shot. Not like me and Jor. But we had the same stature, the same dark hair and eyes, the same presence. That was all I could describe it as.
“Sorry about this,” Weston said immediately. “I didn’t mean to barge in on your party. I didn’t know that this would be going on.”
“What are you doing here?” I managed to get out.
“Well, I sent you and your brother an email a few weeks ago.”
“We received it.”
Weston startled at those words. He looked so young. He was only twenty-two, fresh out of college. He was Nora’s age, for Christ’s sake. I was seven years older, and I’d never felt so old. I remembered being so uncertain at his age. How had he worked up the nerve to come to Lubbock?
“You didn’t respond,” Weston accused.
And it was an accusation. He looked hurt. As if he couldn’t think of a single reason that I wouldn’t want to respond to that email.
“Maybe we should take this outside,” Jennifer suggested. Her gaze was on the crowd of Wright Construction employees. They hadn’t yet noticed us, but it was a big enough disruption that they soon might.
“I can’t believe that you didn’t respond,” Weston said.
What was I supposed to say? That I didn’t believe him? I didn’t want to believe him? Fuck.
“And you thought the best response was to fly to Lubbock?” I asked in confusion.
“Julian,” Jennifer whispered. She nodded to him, as if to say, Look, he’s hurt.
But I didn’t know how I was supposed to take this. Dad had said that he wasn’t our brother. Mom had had no clue about it. We’d agreed to ignore the email. Jordan had that PI out there, but we hadn’t heard anything back yet. Now, Weston was standing right in front of me. Right when the rest of my world was a fucking nightmare.
I blew out a heavy breath. “Sorry, I’m just shocked.”
Weston nodded stiffly. “I didn’t fly out here. A friend needed someone to play keys at a few shows across the southwest. I’ve been out of Seattle for two weeks, touring California, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas. Abilene was our last stop. I was supposed to be on a plane home, but I was two hours from here.” He held his hands up helplessly. “I couldn’t do leave. So, I rented a car and drove into Lubbock. I just got here.”
Jennifer gaped next to me. Her hands shook on her camera. I wanted to wrap her up and protect her from this. I wanted her to shield me from what was coming. Because I didn’t know how to handle this. My charm couldn’t fix this.
“I think Jennifer’s right,” I forced out. “We need to move this outside or into the back room. This is a private event.”
Weston nodded, deflating at the words. “Sure. Sure.”
I wanted to know what the hell he’d expected to happen. How he’d even known that we’d be here. It had been a huge risk to just show up here.
We were heading toward the door when Jordan pushed his way through the crowd, angling straight for me. “Julian.”
I stopped at the door at the tone of his voice. He wasn’t exactly mad, but I could hear the tightly held control. The sound of him wanting desperately to punch something but not giving in to the temptation. The fact that I could even hear the threat in his voice was a bad sign.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Is something wrong?”
“I’ve been texting you. What the hell have you been doing?”
“My phone is broken,” I told him. “I meant to go today—”
“Forget it,” he said gruffly. “Look at what arrived.”
He shoved his phone into my hand. A wave of déjà vu washed over me. The last time this had happened, my world had been turned upside down. Ashleigh had been trying to sabotage the winery, and I’d had to break off our two-year relationship. A part of me didn’t want to look, didn’t want to know. But I couldn’t walk away. Not with Jordan’s anger barely holding on to a thread.
The email was from Jordan’s PI. I read the email with cold dread coursing through me. Pictures were included at the bottom. One showed my dad’s arm around Weston Wright. Another with him talking to Weston and…his brother? Twin brother? Christ, they looked identical, except for the hair and clothes. Weston’s was longer, almost shaggy. The other guy had it cropped short. Weston wore what I could only describe as rocker chic. Something