Chapter 44 Asher Nash

Tanner and Miller

“Hey, I know we had plans to go out for my birthday, but I’m going to have to cancel,” I say once he answers.

“Why?”

I debate how honest to be, though my instinct is to tell him the truth—especially given the thoughts I literally just had about being too hard on him.

I clear my throat. “I, uh…I’m having a kid. Well, I’m not, but a woman is, and I’m staying with her for a few days since we just found out.”

He’s quiet on the other end of the line.

“Say something,” I say.

“Asher, Asher, Asher. My wild one.” He heaves out a breath. “You want my advice? Pay her off to keep quiet, and send monthly checks the way I do with the twins.”

“With the twins?” I repeat, my heartrate picking up speed.

“Tanner and Miller,” he says nonchalantly. “I send checks every month to their mother, have since the day they were born, and nobody has to know I’m involved.”

“Excuse the fuck out of me?” I say, my chest tightening as he lays this truth bomb on me so freely, so casually. “You have twin boys you’ve never told us about?”

He sighs. “I went through a midlife crisis thirty years ago, okay?”

“No, not okay ,” I say, mocking his tone. “What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“I’m not getting into this with you,” he says firmly. “I made a lot of mistakes in my life, and clearly slipping this to you is one of them.”

He hangs up, and I stare at the phone as I try to process what he said to me.

I have twin half-brothers?

How old are they? Where are they? Who’s their mom?

Does Mom know?

I have a million questions but exactly zero answers other than two names: Tanner and Miller.

My instinct is to call Lincoln with this, but I feel like I should do a little research first. I just…don’t even know where to start.

I’m getting hit with all sorts of unexpected things today, and I suddenly feel the need to sit.

I slide onto the chair I was sitting in earlier when Des said she’d try this again with me as I ponder my dad’s advice to pay her off.

That’s not me. I could never do something like that, and the mere thought of it kills me.

My heart hammers as panic seems to travel like a poison through my veins. I don’t even realize I’m clenching my hands into fists until I feel the sweat sliding on my palms and my stomach knots.

What the fuck else has my father been hiding from me all these years? Because that’s a pretty fucking big one.

Fuck research. I dial up Lincoln.

“Bro, it’s my week off, what the hell do you want?” he answers, and he sounds sleepy, as if he were taking a nap.

I clear my throat as I try to figure out what the hell I’m going to say, and then the words blurt right out of my mouth. “I just learned Dad had twin boys with another woman thirty years ago.”

Silence greets me on the other side of the line, but eventually he says, “What?”

“Tanner and Miller,” I say, repeating the names I committed to memory.

“With who?”

“I have no idea,” I admit.

“How’d you find out?”

I guess I didn’t think this through because if I answer that question, I’ll have to admit the truth I wasn’t ready to admit to him.

I blow out a breath and skirt around it as best I can. “I told him I got someone pregnant, and he told me I should just pay her off to keep quiet the way he does with the twins.”

“Wait a minute,” he says. “Fuck, I’m half-asleep, and you’re laying all this shit on me. You got someone pregnant?”

“Yeah.”

“Who?”

“Fuck off.” I’m being childish, but I’m not ready to tell him, and it’s a simple turn of phrase that tells him that.

“Do you, uh…need anything? Can I help?”

“I’ve got it under control,” I admit, and for the first time…I feel like I do. My instinct wasn’t to run away. My instinct is to work it out with Des so we can work together to be good parents to the baby we created.

Am I scared? Yes. Will I fake like I’m not for her sake? Abso-fucking-lutely.

To be honest, hearing she’s having our baby is less of a shock than hearing my dad has a secret family.

“With the number of curveballs you throw at us, I swear to God, I’m surprised you didn’t pick up baseball instead of football,” he mutters. “You’ve got it under control?”

“Yes.”

“You,” he repeats, disbelief evident in his tone.

“I said yes,” I repeat, feeling a little tired of being treated like I’m incapable of life because I’m the youngest. “You do realize I turn twenty-nine in two days, don’t you? I’m not a kid anymore. I got this. Now back to the other thing.”

“Right, the twin brothers.” He clears his throat. “Let me see if Grayson or Spencer know anything. You said thirty years ago?”

“Yeah, that’s what he indicated.”

“Hm,” he murmurs. “That would make them about the same age as you.”

“Weird,” I say, not really sure how else to respond to that fact. So he was sleeping around while Mom was pregnant with me? Great. Everything I ever wanted to know about my parents.

“Yeah. I wonder if Mom knows.”

“Want me to ask?”

“That’s up to you,” he says. “If she doesn’t, do you really want to be the one to tell her?”

He makes a good point, but if she does know, maybe she can point us in the right direction to track them down or find out more.

When I head back inside to check on Desiree, I find her asleep in her bed. I stare down at her for a few beats. Her red hair isn’t in the messy bun anymore but makes a halo around her, and I commit the beautiful, peaceful sight in front of me to memory.

It won’t always be peaceful. She’s fiery, and I can see plenty of fireworks in our future. But right now, it is, and I’ll cherish that for as long as I can.

I leave her to rest, and I head back out to the kitchen to grab a drink before I make the call to my mother. I find Addy at the counter holding onto a stack of papers.

“Mind if I help myself to some water?” I ask.

She shakes her head, and she sets her papers down as she watches me. “Can I ask you a question?”

I grab a glass out of the cabinet where I spotted them earlier when I made the soup, and I turn to face her. “Shoot.”

“What are you doing here?”

I snag my lip between my teeth. “I came to see Des.”

“Desi’s my best friend,” she says quietly. “And her dad always warned her about football players, especially after everything with her ex, but that girl is a stubborn one.”

I chuckle at her assessment. “So I’ve learned.”

“What are your intentions with her?”

“I suppose since she doesn’t want her father to know about us, you’re grilling me instead?” I tease.

“Look, I have a lot of papers to grade tonight,” she says, nodding to the stack. “I have little time to spare. I was here for her when you broke it off with her the first time, and I need to know you’re not going to choose her dad or football or anything else at all over her again.” She raises a pointed brow, and I get the very real sense that she doesn’t like me.

I suppose I haven’t given her a reason to.

I’m an offensive player through and through, though, so I don’t jump to the defense even though she’s trying to put me there. “I won’t. I realize the only person I need to promise that to is her, but I made the wrong decision the first time. I threw myself into work while we were apart, and I reached lofty goals I didn’t expect to reach. But at the end of the day…none of it meant a damn thing when I didn’t get to share it with her.” I press my lips together, and when I glance up and my eyes meet Addy’s, she looks a little misty.

“Atta boy,” she says, and for the first time, her lips tip up in a small smile. If she’s half as tough on her students as she is on me, well, they’re pretty damn lucky to have her.

“What grade do you teach?” I ask.

“Seventh.”

I think back to seventh grade. I was a little shit, that’s for damn sure. “Thank you for what you’re doing for them.”

She preens a little, and I think maybe I’ve got the best friend on my side.

I fill my water glass, and then I excuse myself back to the balcony to give my mother a call.

“Asher Joseph, whyyyy do you make your mother go weeks and weeks without a call?”

I laugh. “Because you text me nearly every day?”

“Still, I like to hear your voice.”

“I’ll start sending you voice memos,” I say dryly.

“What’s new, baby boy?” she asks.

I blow out a breath.

“Uh oh, that was a heavy one. What’d you do?”

“Why do you think it’s me?” I ask.

“Because I know my boys, and whenever you let out a heavy sigh like that, I know darn well something’s on your mind.”

“Fine,” I mutter, acknowledging that she knows me pretty damn well. “I, uh…I’m gonna be a dad.”

Shocked silence greets me on the other side, and then a gasp. “I’m gonna be a grammy again?” She sounds slightly choked up.

“Confirmed,” I say.

“Who’s the girl, and when can I meet her?”

“I’m not saying a word, and I have no idea,” I say, answering both her questions.

“Why and why?”

“We’re sort of seeing each other in secret for now for, uh…reasons. Once she’s ready to go public, we’ll go public,” I say.

“Ooh, is it someone I know? Like someone famous?”

“No, Mother.”

“I mean, when Lincoln told me they were having a baby, I got a video call. I don’t even get to see your cute face while you tell me this amazing news. Are you going to marry her? Tell me you’re going to marry her!”

I knew I shouldn’t have led with the fact that I impregnated a woman. “I have no idea, Mom. I just found out today, and it’s…complicated. But to be perfectly honest, it’s not why I called.”

“Oh,” she says, and she sounds disappointed.

“I called Dad to tell him I had to cancel dinner with him on my birthday because I’ll be out of town—”

“With the girl?” she interrupts.

“Yes.”

“You’re spending your birthday with her?” She sounds far too excited.

“I’m planning on it, but I’ll have to call in sick to practice.” She makes an eep sound, and I continue. “Anyway, when I blurted out that I got a girl pregnant, he told me to pay her off…the way he did thirty years ago.”

She’s silent.

“Mom?”

“He told you,” she says flatly.

“He did,” I confirm.

“Okay, hit me with your questions.”

“My first was whether you knew, which, obviously, you do,” I say.

“Yes. But I didn’t find out because he was honest with me,” she admits. “I found out because when the boys were fifteen or sixteen, their mom called him, and I happened to be there. I guess they had some talent when it came to football, and she was hoping Dad would help give them a nudge since the four of you boys were all on track for the NFL.”

“Not because of Dad,” I protest.

“No, not because of Dad. Because you were each talented, too. But those genes didn’t come from me, honey,” she says softly.

“So what do we do?” I ask, and I hear the desperation in my own voice.

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” I admit.

“You can leave it as it was, or you can go meet them. Your call.”

“You have their information?” I ask.

“I do,” she says carefully.

“Do they know who their father is?”

She clears her throat. “No, they don’t. It’s why your father paid off their mother.”

“So they’re not even Nashes?”

“I mean, technically they are, but they go by their stepfather’s last name.”

“Which is…” I prompt.

“Banks.”

“Tanner and Miller Banks,” I say, and it dawns on me as I repeat the last name. “Holy shit, Tanner and Miller Banks ? As in the twins from Arizona that the NFL started looking at when they were freshmen in high school?”

She clears her throat. “Yep. That’s them. Your half-brothers.”

Whoa . I did not see that one coming.