Tyler(10)

Standing in front of the heavy mahogany door, I pull off my gloves and stuff them in my pockets. ‘Connor and Maloney’ reads the shiny golden sign, and I ring the bell.

I tap my fingers on the door as I wait, and suddenly it clicks and swings inward, framing a very thin, very blonde woman in a steel-gray dress. Her hair is drawn back in a bun, so tightly my own head aches in sympathy.

“May I help you?” she asks.

“I’m Tyler,” I say.

“Tyler Devlin?”

I nod, even though I don’t go by that name anymore. I have no right to it. My father isn’t Jake Devlin. That’s Ash’s dad. It bugs me that I don’t know my real dad’s family name. I feel like driftwood, belonging nowhere.

“Come on in.” She gestures, and I enter, my rough biker’s clothes standing out against the dark wood furniture and lush carpets. She turns and ushers me into another large room with a gigantic desk and shelves full of books and folders. It has big windows that let in the light. “Now we’re all here.”

“All?” I echo, frowning, and glance around.

Oh fuck. Asher is sitting in one of the leather armchairs, his pale eyes shooting daggers at me. And no matter how I’ve managed to convince myself I should talk to him, make amends, make him forgive me, the stark hatred in that gaze nails me to the spot.

“Have a seat,” the woman says, her voice far away. “Mr. Connor will be with you in a minute.”

“Ash,” I say.

My brother’s eyes flash, and he pushes himself to his feet. His hands clench at his sides. I just stare at him, shocked at how tall and strong he looks. Last I saw him it was at Dad’s funeral, and he’d still been hunched over with pain, his face bruised.

“Tyler,” he spits out my name like a curse, and his fists are white-knuckled.

Dammit.

“We should talk,” I say. “Ash...”

“Nothing to talk about.” He vibrates with anger, his gaze flicking to the office door.

Movement catches my eye.

A heavy-set, middle-aged man with a goatee is standing at the door, watching us. He brushes his chubby hands down his dark suit. “I am Ian Connor. The Devlin brothers, I assume?”

Asher nods, and I force myself to follow suit. It’s been too long since I considered myself a Devlin.

Connor clears his throat and walks behind his desk. “I will need you both to sign several papers. I’ve highlighted the spots.” He glances up, his small, watery eyes moving from Asher to me. He extends a pen, and Ash grabs it before I even move. He bends over the desk to sign.

“So you’re Tyler Devlin.” Connor gives me an inscrutable look. “The one who ran away.”

So that’s my stigma. Aside from being the bastard one, of course. Born out of wedlock, branded and erased from the family records.

Ash finishes and instead of passing me the pen, he throws it on the desk and stalks away. As I grab the pen before it rolls off the edge, I realize he’s heading to the door.

“Ash,” I call, just as Connor says, “Mr. Asher Devlin.”

Ash freezes, then turns around. “What?”

“Mr. Devlin, you need to stay a while longer,” Connor says.

“What for? I’ve signed the papers.”

“There is one more little thing left to do.” Connor sits behind his desk as I hurriedly scrawl my signature on all the marked spots, right below Ash’s loopy one. “Then you can go and do whatever young men your age do.” He narrows his eyes. “College? Or work?”

“Work,” both Ash and I say at the same time, then shut our mouths.

I didn’t know Ash was working. I thought he was studying for his GED.

What else does Connor want to tell us? What else did Dad do? He hasn’t left a will, that much I know—but he’s like a ghost, following me around, like a cobweb I can’t get rid of.

Although the room is big and airy, full of light, claustrophobia squeezes my chest. I sink in the other leather chair and struggle to breathe normally.

Connor shuffles the papers again. “Phil! Signatures to notarize.”

Another man enters, a scrawny one with glasses. He grabs seals from the desk, stamps the papers, signs something and then leaves again without a word.

“Just say what you have to say,” Ash grinds out, and for once his clipped tone is not addressed to me.

My little brother. I can hardly believe it. That he grew from that tiny child into this man. That I had to leave him, and he had to rely on others instead of me. It stings.

Then again, who can rely on me anymore? I’d only drag them down with me.

Connor clears his throat, pulling me out of my dark thoughts. “So the reason I asked you to stay is that among your father’s things, we found two items addressed to you.”