Page 81 of Just My Ex

“Nope. If he’s here, I’d like to have a word with him.”

Dad clutches the front of my shirt, his gaze hard. “I have it taken care of. You don’t need to insert yourself in this. Go back to the dining room and I’ll call you if I need you.”

I clamp my hand over his, removing it from my shirt. “No. You don’t get to tell me what to do. I missed my brother’s wedding because of him.” I shake my head. “Because of you.”

My father knows when he’s been defeated, and his shoulders cave. “Just let me do the talking.”

“Oh, I plan to so I can know what’s actually going on, instead of the stupid story you told me.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but then closes it again in resignation. He turns back around and heads to the back door. The house has three back doors, a security nightmare, but apparently, this guy he’s been working with likes the kitchen one.

We get to the door, and I push my dad aside and give him a look. I’ll be opening the doors around here. I do, and I must admit, the man on the other side of that door is not … what I expected.

He’s about my height and has dark hair with some grey peppered in, but few wrinkles, so maybe he’s younger than he looks.

“I asked you not to come here. Not yet,” Dad says, glancing at me.

I give him a look like,I am not bailing you out of this.

The guy sizes me up. “Is this one … Henry?”

My dad sighs heavily. “Yes. This is Henry.”

I stick out a hand. “You’ve been giving the family some trouble.”

The guy’s eyes widen. He looks at Dad and then back at me. “Is that what he told you? Trouble?” He shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about that.”

Not what I was expecting him to say.

“I had to secure the perimeter at my brother’s wedding because of a threat from you. Which meant I couldn’t tell my mother about it. Which meant I had to pretend I wasn’t even there. So yeah, I’d call that trouble.”

I stop myself. This is my dad’s business.

He doesn’t say anything, waiting for my dad to speak up, chewing on his bottom lip.

“I had to take precautions,” Dad says. “This was before I’d gotten to know you. Uh … I wasn’t sure what your angle was, and you have to admit your first approach was kind of threatening.” Dad holds out his hands. “I know better now. But I’m going to need some more time. I told you.”

“Time for what, Dad?” I gesture to the guy. “You better tell me more about this. I’ve had a lot of fallout from what you asked me to do. You owe me an explanation.”

The guy lifts a finger in the air. “Like I said, it’s not about money. I just want to meet everybody and—” he trails off, looking at me.

“Okay, one of you needs to start telling me the truth,” I say. He doesn’t mean harm, I can tell. Still, why all the subterfuge?

The guy stares down my dad, and I realize he sort of reminds me of my uncle Carl, my dad’s brother.

“Are you going to tell him or am I?” the guy says, his nostrils flaring.

“You could start with your name,” I say.

“I’m Benson. Benson Kilpack.”

So he’s not one of Carl’s kids. In my defense, Carl and Thomas Tate aren’t close. He lives in Massachusetts.

My father sighs, pinches his nose between his fingers and says, “Henry, this is your half-brother.”

Chapter 33

Quinn

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