Page 92 of Timid (Lark Cove 2)

I turned around slowly, facing my mother just as a boy emerged from the motel room. But he wasn’t just a boy. He was her kid.

What the actual fuck? She had another kid? She’d left me to fend for myself at nine years old, then she’d had another son.

The boy stood by Mom’s side, staring right at me before he whispered, “Is that him?”

Mom threw her arm around his shoulders. “Yep. This is your big brother, Jackson.”

“Hey.” The kid smiled like he’d been waiting his entire life to meet me.

I stared at him with a slack jaw. Was this why she’d come here? To introduce me to my younger brother?

I had no idea how old he was, maybe eleven or twelve, like some of the kids at Willa’s camp. What I did know was that his jeans were four inches too long and his sweatshirt would have fit me better than it did him. Why was he wearing such baggy clothes? Couldn’t Mom afford ones in his size?

He didn’t look a thing like her—or me for that matter. The only similarity I had with her was light hair and the color of our blue eyes. He didn’t even have that. His skin was darker, like his dad had been African-American. His eyes were a rich brown and his curly black hair was cropped short.

My half-brother.

The kid stepped forward, away from Mom, and held out a hand. “I’m Ryder.”

Ryder? This just kept getting better.

“Ryder?” I huffed, ignoring the kid and glaring at Mom. “Are you fucking joking? You named him Ryder? Did you forget that you already used that for my middle name?”

The kid flinched, but I kept my glare on Mom.

She shrugged it off, staring at me with complete indifference.

I hated her. Jesus, fuck, but I hated her. The tension on the sidewalk was stifling, making the cool fall air heavy and hot.

The kid shifted his weight back and forth as his extended hand dropped slowly along with his eyes. But before he could shrink away, Willa stepped up and caught his hand, returning the handshake that had been meant for me.

“Um . . . hi, Ryder. I’m Willa.”

He gave her a shaky smile as they shook but then looked right back to me with big, brown, hopeful eyes.

I recognized that hope—I’d had that same look once.

After Mom and my aunt dumped me, I’d longed for someone to welcome me with open arms. I’d needed someone to accept me. But the people in the first foster home hardly paid me any attention. They only kept me for a month. The next home was the same, though they kept me for two months. The third let me stay a week.

And each time I packed up my backpack, hope faded.

I wouldn’t be the guy to take that from this kid, so I held out my hand. “Hey, Ryder. I’m Jackson. Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” He shook my hand with a bright smile, then let it go. “Mom told me about you.”

About what? She didn’t even know me. I looked over his head to see Mom looking bored.

“Is this why you came?” I asked her. “For a family reunion?”

“Ryder, give me a minute with Jackson.” Mom stepped farther out onto the sidewalk, nodding for Ryder to go back into the room. “And shut the door.”

“Okay,” he mumbled. He gave me another smile b

efore going inside and closing the door.

“How old is he?” I asked Mom before she could talk.

“Twelve.”