Serves Me Wright

by K. A. Linde

  Jennifer

  Nora was a magician. There was no other explanation for the dream world that she had created inside the barn at Wright Vineyard. It hardly even looked rustic after she was done with it. Long white drapes covered most of the exposed walls. Chandeliers hung all around the room. Circular tables lined the perimeter with elegant floral arrangements set amid wrought iron candelabras and purple velour runners. An enormous WC—for Wright Construction—was next to the stage, draped in vines and flowers, a perfect backdrop for pictures. Everything was lush and over the top.

  “You are a little genius,” I told her as I stared in awe. I couldn’t even bring my camera up to my face to see it all through the lens.

  “Thanks. I’ve been working day and night. I even had August freaking build the WC because I couldn’t find anything that matched my vision.”

  “He built that himself?”

  “Yeah. His dad is a carpenter, and they put it together. I’m so blessed.”

  “Is he here?”

  She pointed across the barn to where he stood next to Tamara. She was in a slinky dress for the evening, her red hair a pile on top of her head. She had her hand resting on August’s sleeve.

  “They seem…close,” I said carefully.

  She laughed. “We’re all close. We all grew up together, went to college together, graduated together. He actually dated Tamara in high school. He and I didn’t get together until college.”

  “Really?”

  My worst-case scenario alarm went off at the intimacy between them. How could they all remain friends? How could she not suspect them? I reeled myself back in. This was my own insecurity screaming at me. If Nora didn’t have any, then why should I worry for her? Besides the fact that my anxiety didn’t give a shit.

  “Yep. The guys are backstage if you want to say hi.”

  “I do. But I’m going to get some detail shots of your work first.”

  She beamed. “That’s so exciting!”

  I smiled at her and then went back to documenting all the little touches she’d put into transforming the room into something good enough for a Wright Construction summer event. Then I dropped the camera around my neck and moved through the backstage entrance.

  The first person I saw was Campbell Abbey. My image of him had gone mega viral. Like, I still didn’t know the count on comments and likes. It had been shared everywhere with and without my name attached. Blaire said I had a few magazine requests to purchase rights to it for an article. She was vetting them for me. I was glad to have her at my side as a manager because, otherwise, I’d be so overwhelmed that I’d collapse.

  “Jennifer!” he crowed, wrapping me in a hug.

  I was so shocked that I didn’t even move. “Hey.”

  “Your picture!”

  I laughed. “I know. What the hell, right?”

  “I love it. It was a great experience. Actually, I pitched to the record label that you should take the cover photo for the next album.”

  My body turned to jelly. My legs buckled, and then I was falling, stumbling. Campbell put an arm out to steady me.

  “Hey, hey, whoa!” he said with a laugh.

  “You’re serious?”

  “Yeah, dude. They were into it. They think you have a special eye.”

  I might die happy. I was going to take the picture for the cover of Cosmere’s next album. The record label wanted me. They thought I was special. Holy fucking shit!

  “You can say something.”

  I opened and closed my mouth. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say yes.”

  I laughed. “Yes! Of course I want to do that.”

  “Excellent. I’ll get you in touch with them. I’m pumped about this.”

  Campbell was practically bubbling with excitement. I’d seen him in a lot of elements in the few months that I’d known him—which I couldn’t even believe that I could say—but here he was, in another world. As if embracing my passion ignited his own.

  “Thank you so much, Campbell,” I said honestly.

  “Art is the reason we live and not just survive.”

  Something got stuck in my throat, and I could only nod at that assessment. He was right. I wasn’t used to other people acknowledging that.

  Campbell’s face turned serious. “Excuse me for a second.”

  Then he headed away from me. I followed his direction and found Blaire on her phone. She was stunning in a gauzy dress that only she could pull off. Campbell stopped in front of her and cleared his throat.

  I saw the word that she said to him from here. No.

  He reached for her as she made to leave, but she used those excellent soccer skills to evade him. I sighed in confusion at the pair of them as he followed her out the side door. I wasn’t blind. I could see that something had to have happened with them at some point. Why else would they be so strange? But I’d never worked up the courage to ask Blaire. I didn’t want her to shut down, and honestly, it wasn’t my business.

  “What are you looking at?” Julian asked, coming up behind me.

  I jumped. “Oh God, you surprised me.”

  He laughed. “Sorry. You seemed intense.”

  “It was nothing.” I waved off everything I’d seen as I turned to my boyfriend. He seemed more put together than he had at the soccer game this afternoon, but there were nerves underneath all of that charm and style. I wasn’t sure if it was just the party or something else. I’d never seen him like this. “Are you ready for the event?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “Nora really knocked it out of the park.”

  “Yeah. I can’t wait for my cousins to see the place.” He beamed with pride at the thought. It erased whatever was festering underneath for that second, and he was here with me again.

  Owen Wright stood with Jordan, talking animatedly.

  “You invited your dad?” I asked skeptically.

  “Jor did,” he said with a shrug.

  “I can’t believe he has the gall. Did he run it by Morgan?”

  Julian nodded. “Yeah. She said it was fine, but if he got out of line, she’d kick his ass herself.”

  I laughed because that was so Morgan. “Makes sense.”

  “Showtime, ladies and gents,” Hollin called to everyone standing backstage. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  “He’s really taken to this, hasn’t he?” I asked with a laugh, clutching my camera.

  “He has.” Julian touched my arm. “Guess that’s our cue.”

  We stepped back out to the barn in time to see the doors thrown wide and guests streamed in. Wright Construction held two annual parties for their staff. One in the summer and the other a Christmas party. They decked the place out, hired caterers, and had an open bar to celebrate the employees who put in the work day in and day out. It was a long-standing tradition, and this was the first year that the summer party had ever been off premises.

  I set up near the fancy WC that August had created and spent a steady hour taking pictures for the employees. It was practically a photo booth with how much everyone wanted their picture taken. It was a good sign for the company. They were cared for and appreciated enough to want to stand in front of the logo.

  Eventually, much of the party had settled into the round tables, and food was brought out. There was a lull in my job. Something I would never take for granted. I headed away from the crowd, snapping a shot of Jensen and Emery rocking a sleeping Robin as I passed. Their table was packed full of Wrights. Heidi and Landon sat together, Holden noticeably absent. Austin and Julia were bickering and pointing at each other, as per usual. Patrick sat next to them, shaking his head. Morgan was nowhere to be seen, probably prepping for her big speech with David. Sutton was at a table, her children absent as well, with the rest of the girls—Annie, Piper, and a withdrawn Blaire.

  I bypassed them all and leaned against the barn door. I nodded to our security. Zach was a friend of Hollin’s, even more giant with more tattoos, a beard, and a
don’t fuck with me grin. They drove motorcycles together on their day off.

  “Hey, Zach.”

  “Jennifer,” he said, nodding back. As pleasant as his gruff voice got.

  I pulled out a protein bar to keep my energy up. I’d been offered an area in the back room to eat, but I didn’t like to be off of the floor. I’d have plenty of time to eat later.

  “Full event,” I muttered.

  He nodded. “Yep.”

  And that was about the extent of Zach’s communication skills.

  We stood there in silence while the rest of the party ate. People were finishing soon after and heading back out onto the dance floor. I needed to get moving again, but I stood a second longer to watch it all at a distance. I wouldn’t be able to actually see it close up. Not through my camera lens. Not without the social anxiety pressing in on me about the fact that I’d have to get into that large group of people.

  I pulled the camera up to my face and scanned the room with it, getting a feel for where I should go next.

  And then someone straggled in late to the party. He wasn’t even dressed for the event, which was cocktail attire. This guy wore distressed jeans and a flannel button-up. His dark hair was long and shaggy, tumbling into his eyes. He swept it away, revealing the deep, dark eyes underneath. Eyes that looked…oddly familiar.

  He paced a second and then turned, jumping slightly, as if surprised to see me.

  “Are you here for the Wright Construction event?” I asked. He blinked at me in a way that said what I already knew—he wasn’t here for that. “The vineyard is closed to the public tonight for a private event.”

  “Oh. Uh, no. I’m here to talk to Jordan or Julian Wright. Do you know them?”

  My eyebrows shot up. “You need to speak to the owners?”

  “The owners,” he said softly. “Yeah, I do. Could you point them out to me?”

  “I…” I stared at him a second longer in confusion. I wanted to ask him more, but when I opened my mouth to do so, Julian was at my side.

  “Hey, what’s going on?”

  “Julian,” I breathed in relief. “This guy was looking for you.”

  Julian held his hand out with that same charming smile. “I’m Julian Wright. How can I help you?”

  The man shook his hand. “Uh, hey.” He slid a hand back through his hair, brushing the curling ends off his forehead as he blew out a breath. “I’m Weston Wright.”

  35

  Julian

  Weston. Wright.

  I froze at those words, my eyes widening. For one of the few times in my life, I had nothing to say. I had no idea where to even begin.

  Because Weston hadn’t included a picture in that original email. That might have been enough to convince me that he might be who he said he was. We didn’t look identical. Not by 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 Campbell would be seen in. His brother was in a blazer, something I’d wear. But they were undeniably twins.

  Looks like you were right. After I completed my investigation, I can confirm as best I can that your dad seems to have two boys, one being Weston, who emailed you. Doesn’t look like he’s on social, as you suspected. The other is Whitton Wright. I can’t confirm biologically, but he treats them like kids, and they have the last names. Also, there’s one more thing.

  I scrolled to the next picture of a teenage girl in cutoff jean shorts and a crop top. Her long black hair nearly reached her waist. She was a dead ringer for Sutton, even a decade younger.

  Looks like there’s a daughter, too. Harley Wright, age seventeen, upcoming high school senior. Didn’t dig too much on her, but she has the same last name. So, I’d guess that’s as much as you need to know.

  The email went on with mor
e pictures and more explanations of his methods. I didn’t need it all. I didn’t need any of it. I had everything I needed to know right here.

  Our dad had other kids. Three other kids. Weston and Whitton being twins would have made sense. That was the same time frame that our parents had split up. It could have been an accident. Something we’d hate him for hiding from us, but at least he’d provided for them. Or something.

  But Harley.

  She was five years younger than her brothers. She was still in high school. Our parents had been together then. I’d been twelve. Jordan had been fourteen, a freshman in high school. Dad had still come to all of my soccer games. He’d attended everything Jordan had at school and in debate and all that. And he’d also cheated on Mom.

  He’d cheated on Mom.

  He had this other family.

  These two boys and a little girl.

  In Seattle.

  He’d had them this whole time.

  And he was still seeing them.

  Still around them enough to have our PI take pictures of him with them.

  And he’d lied about it.

  He’d cheated on Mom and lied about it.

  We’d asked him point-blank if Weston was his kid, and he’d looked us in the face and lied.

  He’d fucking lied.

  “What is it?” Jennifer asked softly, as if she could see I was about to explode.

  “You have a brother and sister,” I said to Weston.

  Jordan jumped when he realized who was standing in front of us. “What are you doing here?”

  “This is Jordan,” I said by way of introduction. “Jordan, our brother Weston.”

  Jordan stared in confusion. “But what are you doing here?”

  “He had a gig in Abilene and drove over because we hadn’t written back.”

  “Why do you suddenly believe me? And how do you know about Whitt and Harley?” Weston asked, equally confused.

  “I hired a private investigator,” Jordan explained.

  “What?” Weston squawked. “What for?”

  “We didn’t believe you,” I said.