A loud, scratchy robotic voice filled the air, and I jumped, almost knocking over the cup of coffee Johnny had poured for me that I wasn’t going to drink.

Jason dropped the silverware and reached down to twist a knob on his radio, lowering the volume. It was still on, but faint. “Sorry about that.”

Johnny came back with a Coke for Jason and set it in front of him. “Are you two eating?”

I shook my head. Johnny rushed off to get drinks for another table. The diner was still hopping, and Johnny was by herself. I should get up and help her, I thought.

“Do you think we look alike, Auden?” Jason interrupted my thoughts.

It was such an odd question; I couldn’t help but jerk my eyes up and search his face. He was handsome, with light blue eyes and dirty blond hair, like me. But his face was longer, whereas mine was round; his skin, olive toned; mine, alabaster.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess our eyes and hair are similar.”

“I definitely look like that older man you were talking to when I was in here last week.”

“That was my grandfather. Why are you trying to find similarities between you and my family?”

“Because I’m your brother.”

“What?” I gagged on my spit.

“Biologically.”

“Dude, what are you talking about?”

“I told you I came from a big family, right? The Taylors adopted me. They’ve fostered a lot of kids and adopted three. They’ve always done an open adoption, in case any of us wanted to find our biological families someday. Open means they list the biological mother’s name on the paperwork.” He paused, but I didn’t speak, so he continued. “I called my mom and asked her if she could look up my real mom’s name in my adoption papers. She did, and then I remembered why your name clicked. My biological mom’s name is Valerie Berezin. That’s your mom, right?”

“Yeah, except my mom never had any other kids.” This guy was crazy. I was relieved he made us come inside to a public area to have this conversation. Don’t cops have to pass some kind of test to prove they aren’t insane before they’re provided a gun?

“How would you know? I’m four years older than you are.”

“Wouldn’t my family tell me?”

“I, well,” he stammered, but I wasn’t listening because as soon as the question left my mouth, I knew he was telling the truth.

The answer was no. My repressed, secretive, we-don’t-talk-about-bad-things family probably wouldn’t have told me.

I leaned forward to inspect Jason’s face again, from his eyebrows, across to his ears, and down the slope of his nose to his mouth and chin. He was right about the familial similarities. He looked exactly like pictures of Grandpa when he was young. Viktor Berezin and Jason Taylor had the same nose, which was also my mother’s nose. Combine that with the blue eyes and blond hair we shared, and he was a Berezin for sure.

“Holy shit.” I fell back against the chair and covered my mouth with my hands in a prayer-like formation. “So are we, like, half brother and sister? Same mom, different dad?”

Jason shrugged. “That I don’t know. The only name on my paperwork is Valerie Berezin.” He picked up the silverware and began flipping it again. Must be a nervous habit.

“This is fucking crazy.”

“I know.” Jason shook his head. “I’m sorry I threw all this at you. I just”—he sighed—“I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t. I hope you don’t hate me for telling you this way.”

“Well, I don’t think Hallmark makes a card for it, do they?” I asked, letting out a small laugh.

I wasn’t mad at Jason. I was mad at my grandparents. How the hell could they keep my having a brother from me? Hey, just so you know, your mom gave a baby boy up for adoption before you were born. Thought we’d throw it out there, in case he looks you up someday since, you know, some adopted kids search for their biological families.

“You’re taking this better than I thought you would.” Jason cocked his head and leaned back, as if I was going to make like a lion and bite his head off.

“Well, I’m shocked. And confused. And angry. But not at you. I don’t understand my family.” I shook my head. “Whatever. I guess they figured me having a brother I could find out about someday wasn’t my business.”

“Should I, um—” Jason hesitated. “Should I stop eating here?”

“What? No.” I put my hand on his, halting the annoying silverware gymnastics he had going. “I have to figure things out, but I don’t hate you or anything.”

“Thanks.” He let out a deep breath, sitting back in his chair.

“Plus, you make me look like a better server than I am. Did you see how impressed Johnny was that I knew exactly what you drink?” I joked. I didn’t want to take out any anger on him. He was just the messenger. And my brother, evidently.

“She thinks you have a crush on me.”

“Ewwww. A big huge ewwww to that. You’re my brother.” I grinned. “I don’t know where we go from here. I mean, you have a family that you obviously love. Do you even want a relationship with me?”

“I do. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have told you.”

“Are your parents okay with it?” I’d probably be pissed if a kid I’d adopted and raised since birth wanted to find his biological family, wondering why I wasn’t good enough.

“Yeah. I think Mom was upset at first, but she understands. She knew it might happen. It’s one of the things you have to accept when you adopt a kid. Plus, I told her you and Aleksandr were dating. He’s her favorite player.”

“He is? Even when her son plays for the Pilots?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Other than Landon. Her own kid doesn’t count.”

I laughed.

“Was Landon adopted?” I asked. It wasn’t my business, but I was curious.

“No. He’s a real Taylor. Weird scenario. Mom didn’t think she could have kids, so they adopted me, and then she got pregnant with Landon. We have two younger brothers who are adopted, but I’ve seen more than twenty-five foster kids go in and out of our house. My parents are amazing people.”

“Sounds like it,” I said a bit too wistfully. I should feel bad for Jason because he was given up by our mom and raised outside of our family. Instead, shameful jealousy warmed my cheeks. He’d been adopted by wonderful, open, loving people, while I was stuck with a repressed family who rarely broached the subject of the dead. Or the living, for that matter.

Just having those thoughts solidified what a horrible person I was. When would I grow up and let go?

Jason scanned the restaurant, his eyes darting from Angus, a local farmer with a weathered face hidden by his fuzzy white beard, to Johnny, who was refilling Angus’s brown porcelain coffee mug.

“Sorry to drop all of this on you, Auden.” Jason shoved his seat back. “I better, um—I’ve got paperwork to do before my shift ends anyway.”

“This was all on the taxpayers’ dime?” I asked, glad for a subject change.

“I have my radio on. I heard the calls coming in.”

“I’m teasing,” I explained. “You’re gonna have to get used to my humor, bro.”

“Look forward to it.” He stood up, getting a few bills out of his pocket.

“Oh, come on,” I said, getting to my feet as well. “I think I can handle buying you a Coke.”

“It’s free, right?”

“Yep.” I laughed. “See, you get me already.”

“See you around, Auden.” He started walking to the door.

“Hey, Jay!” I called. He spun to face me.

Jason took a step toward me. “Yeah, well, you’re a rock star, dating a pro-hockey player, and you put together an after-school program for at-risk youth. I think I got lucky in the sister department, too.”

“Rock star. Ha!” I laughed. The rest made me sound pretty damn awesome. And it was all true.

“Landon is impressed with the program. He and a few guys on the team go every week.” He put his hand on the door. “If you start one here, let me know. I’d love to help.”

“Cool.” I nodded. A program was already in the works for Bridgeland; I was waiting on approvals from my academic advisor and grant money I needed to rent a space.