Page 132 of Imperfect Player

“Your mom and dad had me when they were really young, and they couldn’t take care of me, so they gave me up for adoption. It wasn’t until you got sick that they came looking for me.”

I glance up at the doorway, our parents standing there. The fearful look in their eyes dissipates when they hear the word adoption rather than the truth. Abandonment.

I look back to Ben, who just keeps looking between me and our parents, shocked, in denial.

“It’s true,” my dad says. “Ethan is your brother.”

“And you knew? All this time?” Ben says, tears welling in his eyes.

“No,” I tell him. “They didn’t know. Not for sure.”

“How?”

I nod toward the picture he’s still holding. “I look a little different now, don’t ya think?”

I offer him a smile, a touch on his arm, a gentle squeeze.

“You being sick, that’s what made them come looking for me. They wanted to help you. They . . . they love you, Ben.”

As I say it, I expect the words to sting, but they don’t. Fucking Brad and his therapy; it actually helped.

“I just wanted you to know the truth. I wanted to be the one to tell you. I want to . . . I want to be your brother. If you’ll have me.”

Ben looks at me, then our parents, then back to me.

“This is for reals?”

“Thousand percent,” I tell him.

His little body jumps into my unsuspecting arms and hugs me.

“This is the coolest. I have a brother. And he’s Ethan Ambrose.” Ben pulls back. “Can I tell all my friends?”

I chuckle. “You can tell whoever you want.”

Sure, that means that my past might come out, and I might have a lot of explaining to do, but fuck if I care. Especially not now, seeing the look on his face.

Ben rises from the bed and begins to pace the room, his hands on his head.

“You have to meet Timmy, he’s the best. He loves you almost as much as I do. And Tristan. He’s not going to believe this.” He pauses, turns to me. “Can I invite them over now?”

“I, uh, I kind of had a really long day today. Could we maybe just hang out for a while—the two of us?”

“Can we get ice cream?”

“We can get whatever you want, as long as it’s okay with your parents,” I say.

“Our parents,” he corrects me.

I just nod, because there are a million things that he doesn’t understand, but that phrase will never be an accurate one.

His parents concede, clearly grateful that I didn’t blow their secret out of the water, and allow me to take Ben to the local ice cream store where we don’t need to call Timmy or Tristan because they are already there. As are several other kids from Ben’s school. All of whom look like they've been sucker punched the minute Ben and I step inside.

When Ben tells them I'm his brother?

Poor little Timmy faints.

The nice part is that Ben does all the talking. I just get to sit back and watch as he tells them all the things we are going to do together. His excitement is boundless.

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