“It has the paternity results.” Pace shifts, the sound of his shoes shuffling nervously against the floor acting as an anchor. “Who?” he asks. Lex looks at me, the question clear in his eyes. Am I ready to know? That’s an easy question for me to answer. “The last thing we need between us is another secret.” Mechanically, he slots the chart back into place, glancing at his brother. “It’s you,” he says, and if someone had told me five seconds ago that I’d ever see light in Lex’s eyes again, I wouldn’t have believed it. But it shines like the fucking sun. “It says Wicker is the father.”
