Page 131 of Flipping the Script

“Adam too. He was only four at the time, so I don’t think he remembers much about the divorce, but I do. I remember the fighting, the lawyers. Having to leave the house I grew up in, my school, my friends, everything.” He paused. “Ever notice how Adam and I look the same, but nothing like our dad?”

My heart fell into my stomach.

“We have the same sperm donor, but it’s not our dad.” He slid his gaze to mine.

“When did you find out?” I asked, my throat so tight the words came out like I’d swallowed gravel.

“Four years ago.” He sighed. “I overheard them arguing about it when she showed up for Adam’s high school graduation after a year of ignoring us. I confronted her, and she flat out told me the only regret she has is getting caught. That Dad ruined her life when he divorced her, and he stole us from her.” He let out a bitter laugh. “The same woman who didn’t even fight for custody or make any effort to keep to our visitation schedule. Who only came back into our lives when she wanted something and blamed our father, the man who did fight for us and protected us as best he could, for why her life sucks and her kids don’t love her.”

I sat there, stunned. I hadn’t heard about any of this, but that wasn’t exactly surprising, considering I’d been on a European tour when all that stuff had gone down.

“Does my sister know about this?”

He nodded.

So Adam had Hannah to help him through it, and Patrick had Jonah, but from what he’d said about the drinking and money issues, Jesse hadn’t had anyone.

My heart broke for him. That was a lot for anyone to deal with. I couldn’t imagine having to come to terms with finding out that the man who’d raised me wasn’t my biological father, especially by accident like that. And my father and I didn’t even get along. But Jesse was incredibly close with his dad. Always had been.

“No one outside the family knows. Dad is our dad. Same as Jonah is our other dad and Quinn is our brother. Blood doesn’t mean shit. Family are the people who step up and choose to be there for you, not the people who happen to share your DNA.”

I wanted to tell him I was sorry for what he’d gone through, but I kept my mouth shut. I could tell he had more to say and didn’t want to derail him with empty platitudes.

“But yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I kind of got in some financial trouble after I found out the truth. Ended up with a ton of debt, had bills in collections. Almost lost my truck and had to borrow money from Ez and Wes to pay my rent so I didn’t end up homeless. That was my wake-up call, but it was too late, and I was in over my head.”

“Is that why you started escorting?” I asked when he paused.

He nodded slowly. “I was in a bad place, and I refused to ask my dad or Pops for help. I know they would have given me every cent I needed, but I was so angry at everyone for lying to us for years, and just angry in general, that I got it in my head that I had to fix this myself and never let them know how bad thingswere. I told them about getting into escorting for safety reasons, but I never told them why.”

“Was it just the money that made you start?”

He rocked his knee back and forth absently. “No. It was a factor, but like I said, I wasn’t in a good headspace back then. I was so angry at everyone that I didn’t have the bandwidth to deal with hooking up or the games and bullshit in the dating scene. I figured escorting would be a way to make extra money and get my physical needs met without any of the emotional crap. It was business, that’s it.”

We lapsed into silence again.

My mind was busy processing everything I’d just learned, but it only made me want to know more. To understand all the layers and parts of Jesse he kept hidden from people.

“I didn’t actually have sex with most of my clients,” he said, so softly I barely heard him over the crackling fire and rain.

I slid my eyes to his profile. Slowly, he met my gaze.

“I mostly did companion arrangements.”

“I’m not sure what that is,” I admitted.

“They look different for everyone, but it’s either a long-term or fixed-term arrangement where you give someone the boyfriend experience. I’d take them out on dates, talk on the phone or over video, send them flirty texts and ask about their day, that kind of thing. Sex wasn’t part of it, except in a few cases.

“Like, I had one client whose husband died unexpectedly. He was only twenty-eight at the time, and he contacted me so I could help him ease back into dating and make sure his first sexual experience after losing his husband was good. Another client is on the autism spectrum and needs a lot of time to get to know someone before he’s comfortable enough to be physical with them, so he uses escorts instead of dating. One of my clients was older and trying to figure out his sexuality after his wife lefthim, but he didn’t have anyone he trusted enough to experiment with.”

He paused to study me, most likely trying to gauge my reaction to his confessions.

I kept my face as neutral as possible. I could understand why people might prefer using a sex worker over dating, and it made sense that Jesse had gone that route.

He was a natural caretaker, and he understood people on a level most didn’t. I had no doubt his clients had appreciated his care and skill during their arrangements.

“They were the only ones I slept with. The others were just guys looking for someone to listen to them, to make them feel special, or help them with their confidence. Most just wanted someone to talk to.”

“That’s what Carl was?”

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