Broken: The MISTAKEN Series Complete Second Season (33 page)

“No.” I could see Brandon shaking his head from the corner of my eye. “This does nothing for you. This is not information that you need to have. This is not something that does anything positive, other than give you another target on your back. This is not something that you can put back when you find out… No.”

“Brandon. She’s a grown woman, for Christ’s sake.” Krystal was shaking her own head. “Give her some fucking credit. She’s dealt with plenty worse. She found out about Daniel and handled that with more grace than I ever would have. She can handle this. In the grand scheme of things…”

“In the grand scheme of things, this puts her in more danger than she was before. If she has knowledge of this, then any time there’s a threat against the senator, she’s a suspect.” He looked down at me. “No.”

Krystal rolled her eyes. “It’s not like this is some spy movie, Brandon. She needs to know.”

“I said no.”

“You don’t get to make the decisions for her. She’s a grown woman.”

“No. You don’t get to make the decisions for her, either…”

“Stop.” I stood up. “Seriously. Both of you. Just stop.” It wasn’t as though my head wasn’t still spinning. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t just seen a dead woman—the woman I thought they were fighting about. It wasn’t as though I wasn’t already feeling that niggling fear starting to creep back into my consciousness, just knowing I would have to be in the same room as Daniel again tomorrow if I didn’t figure out a way to get out of going to D.C. Neither of them seemed to realize that I was already slipping toward something I didn’t want to think about. I didn’t want to think about breaking again, either, but both of these people seemed completely oblivious to the fact that I was definitely headed in that direction. For as much as I might have wanted answers, I also just wanted some peace. Some quiet. Somewhere warm where I didn’t have to think.

I let out a long sigh. “Let’s go check on our flight, Brandon.”

The corners of his mouth barely turned up—no one could have called it a smile, but it was definitely a look of relief. He stood up next to me, taking my hand in his again.

Krystal stood up, too, taking her phone from her bag. She punched something into it before looking over at me. There was definitely no smile on her face when she delivered the information she seemed to have wanted to tell me since I had first caught her gaze on the concourse.

She let out a breath, steeling herself. “Jenna, Mason Agostino is your half-brother.”

M
y knees
almost buckled underneath me. I could feel my heart racing again in my chest—there was no way that the words she had just spoken could even possibly be true.

“What?” I was sure that I had misheard—sure that there had to be some other piece of information I had missed.

She nodded, her eyes clouded with something—concern, maybe. “Mason is your half-brother. You share a father. The senator is his father, too. You’re his sister.”

I almost collapsed into the chair, my knees finally giving out. My mouth fell open and I looked up at Brandon. “You knew this? You knew about this the entire time and you never thought to share this information?”

He looked down at me, almost as though he pitied me. “Jen, it isn’t important. It doesn’t change anything.”

“And she knew. Amanda knew. She knew, and that’s why she insisted on having me give that poor kid piano lessons.” I thought my heart was going to beat itself right out of my chest. So many things were beginning to make sense—not the least of which was why that child was treated the way he was. “No one thought I might want to know I have a little brother?” I turned to look between the two of them. “Neither of you thought it was important…?”

Brandon interrupted. “I just found out, Jen. I swear to you—swear to God. I found out on the way to Baltimore. I didn’t even know Amanda Agostino. I had no idea. None…”

Krystal let out another sigh. “This isn’t exactly information your father wanted public, Jenna. I’m sure you can understand that. The boy has been well cared for.
Very
well cared for. His mother…”

I shook my head, turning to face her. “You’ve known about this. You had to know I was giving him piano lessons. I know Cade would have told you…

She nodded. “He did. We discussed it at length. We knew there was no way Amanda would tell you—at least we thought she wouldn’t. Having that secret gave her too much power. She held all the cards.” She folded her hands together in her lap, turning her gaze downward. “And there was the thought that perhaps the two of you would choose to become friends. There’s a school of thought that says…”

I couldn’t even hear what she was saying—what she had already told me was still ringing in my ears. It was like history had repeated itself, only it was still so new to me. Finding out that my mother wasn’t really my mother seemed in some ways like it had happened only yesterday—I couldn’t imagine that my father had been so careless a second time, almost twenty years later. At least he hadn’t brought the boy home to be raised by Marian—I had to give him some credit for that. At least Mason would never have to live with Marian—though Amanda didn’t seem like she was all that much better, to be honest. I just couldn’t believe that this was happening. That
this
was what everyone was trying to protect me from. It didn’t make much sense—why would I need to be shielded from this information? Why did everything have to be such a secret? I had to believe that people still didn’t think I could handle difficult information. That they thought I’d try to harm myself as soon as something bad happened. I had dealt with the whole Marian debacle a few months before without doing anything rash—why did these two seem to think I couldn’t handle knowing I had a brother?

I took a deep breath and finally looked back over at Krystal. None of this was really that bad. The fact that Mason’s mother was dead was horrible, but knowing I had a brother … it wasn’t that bad.

Krystal continued, though I never did really hear what she had been saying to me. “Jenna, it’s a lot to digest. Please know that this had nothing to do with you. Amanda has been taken care of
very
well…”

I shook my head. “You already said that. Unless you mean…”

She glanced at Brandon before turning her gaze back to meet mine. “Not that. I only meant that she was well cared for. Before tonight, I mean. Mason has been given everything you have—Amanda insisted on it. She wanted more. She threatened your father, Jenna. I’m sure you’re aware…”

“He won’t deal with it.” I nodded, finally understanding why my father felt like Amanda had to die. “He won’t put up with blackmailing.” I looked up at Brandon. “He told me
you
blackmailed him. He told me that, right before the whole mess with Marian started.”

He shook his head, raking his hands through his black curls. “I would never…” He sat down next to me, taking my hand in his and entwining his fingers with mine again. “I wouldn’t. I’m stupid about so many things, Jen, but not about that. I would never blackmail him—not for information, money. Nothing. I’ve done some pretty dumb things in my life, but never anything that dumb.”

My thoughts were racing through my mind. It was just so hard to believe—Mason was my brother. Amanda was dead and I had a little brother. I can’t say that I had ever really thought about siblings—my mother had made it so abundantly clear my entire life how she felt about children that I had never even asked about having a sibling. I knew from a very early age that siblings were something that other children had—not me. If this all wasn’t happening under such horrible circumstances, I thought I would have been elated to know I had a brother.

I let out another long breath, trying to calm the thoughts racing through my head. I narrowed my gaze at Brandon. “Can you just walk me through why it was a good idea to keep this from me? If you knew? And if you knew what was going to happen to her…?”

He winced. “Jen…” There was definitely a wounded look about him, as though my words had somehow driven a stake through his already injured heart. “It isn’t like that. I just wanted to make sure…”

Krystal interrupted. “This was a low priority, Jenna.”

I turned to face her, feeling Brandon squeeze at my hand again. “A woman’s death is a low priority? A little boy losing his mother is a low priority?” I turned back to Brandon. “And you agree with this?”

He shook his head. “A low priority for you to need to worry about. There’s been so much…”

His sister interrupted him again. “There’s too much to talk about right now. Too much to talk about here. This place is too public…”

“And we have a plane to catch.” Brandon stood up, releasing my hand. “We should go check on the delay, Jen.” His gaze darted to his sister before moving back to me. “Come with me.”

I was so unsure—so uncertain, and I could tell my eyes had widened to saucers. I wanted to move—wanted to get up and go with him. I tried to remind myself that he was the man I loved. That he was the man I was willing to give up my entire life to be with. And I did want to go with him. I was willing to give it all up to be with him—I didn’t need any of the baggage that came with my real life, anyway. But there was something … something told me I needed to stay and talk to Krystal. Something told me that there was more to what they were both telling me than met the eye. And I knew Brandon wasn’t about to share whatever that something was with me. I had to believe he was sincere—that he really was trying to protect me. He must have believed it himself—that keeping all of these secrets would somehow protect me from danger when the time came for him to face them. For me to face them.

But there were things I needed to know. Answers I needed to hear. And I didn’t feel like I was going to break anymore, either—at least not at that particular moment. “You go check. I’ll stay here with Krystal.” I tried to tell him with my eyes that I needed to talk to her. Alone. I knew she was willing to tell me more than he ever would. I knew she would at least be honest with me. And I knew there was something I needed to talk to her about tonight—regardless of whether or not I ended up on the plane to Sydney with Brandon.

“Jen…” His eyes pleaded with me. “I’m not getting on that plane without you.”

I nodded. “I know. You should see why we’re delayed. I’ll wait here.”

His brow furrowed and he rubbed at his jaw, searching my eyes. He stood there for a moment. It looked like he was trying to decide what the best course of action was when he finally spoke, nodding as though he had made the right decision. “Okay. I’ll be back in a minute.” He flicked an index finger in Krystal’s direction. “Don’t leave with her.” His gaze darted to his sister’s. “And don’t try to get her to go with you.”

She smiled. “We’ll sit here and talk. That’s all.”

He nodded, rubbing at his jaw again, and seemed to finally understand that I needed this. That I needed for him to show me he trusted me—at least this once. “I’ll be right back.” I watched him turn and head back to the walkway.

I watched as he walked down the concourse, finally too far away for me to see. I turned to the woman sitting next to me, looking up at her.

“Make it quick, Jenna. He doesn’t trust me.” She shook her head. “Not the way you do.”

What she said was true—I did trust her. Unlike Brandon, she hadn’t ever given me a reason not to. “How long have you known?”

She tilted her head. “About Amanda? Since it started. She was an intern in your father’s office eight or nine years ago. Things got serious between them probably five or six years ago.”

I dropped my elbows in my lap and rested my chin on my hands, covering my mouth. I was silent for a moment, trying to digest the information. I glanced back to the walkway, hoping to not see any sign of Brandon for at least a few more minutes. “And Mason. You knew…?”

“Of course I knew. That isn’t information that needed leaking, Jenna. It isn’t that I didn’t want you to know.”

“Okay.” This really wasn’t the line of questioning I wanted to follow right now. There was still something eating at me—still something from the other night. Something I had been dying to ask her that I knew I couldn’t talk to Brandon about. “Your mother, Krystal. Are you sure she’s dead?” I turned back to meet her gaze.

“What?” Her eyes narrowed and her lip curled into something of a sneer. “What the hell kind of question is that?”

I shook my head. I hadn’t intended to offend her—I just needed to know about that woman. “I was at the bar by Brandon’s apartment a few nights ago. The night he dragged me to Sacramento. The night before the convention. A woman came up to me—she was blonde, blue-eyed. Older, maybe sixty or so. She said she was Brandon’s mother.”

Her eyes widened. “What? You’re sure that’s what she said? That she was Brandon’s
mother
?”

I nodded, turning my head again to search the walkway for him. I said a little prayer of gratitude that he still hadn’t returned. “Cade saw her, too. He said she wasn’t your mother. He didn’t know who she was. He said she didn’t look like your mother. He said he knew…”

She interrupted. “He did. He knew her.” She shook her head. “Our mother died in that boating accident when Brandon was four and I was seventeen. There’s no question in my mind, Jenna. No doubt at all…”

All I could do was nod in response—Brandon was back. He hadn’t even been gone two minutes, as though being gone any longer might have meant I would bolt out the door with Krystal.

“They wouldn’t tell me what the delay is. They just said we’ll be boarding soon.”

I looked up at him, almost mesmerized by his blue eyes. I knew what the right thing to do was. I knew what I had to do—the only thing I
could
do. I stood up and he snaked his arms around my waist, pulling me close to him. It felt like we were the only two people in the world, like nothing else was important. No one else was there.

“Jen, I know what you’re thinking…”

“We can’t.” I don’t know how he was able to read me so well. There were times when I still felt like he barely knew me, but so many other times—times like this moment—he knew me almost better than I knew myself. I brought my hands to his chest, tracing the curves of his muscles through his shirt. “
I
can’t.”

“Jen, I made you a promise. Remember?” He looked down into my eyes, searching them for something. A change of heart, maybe. Maybe just an understanding. “I promised you that you wouldn’t stand next to him on that stage. Next to Daniel. I made you that promise, and I can’t keep it if you don’t come with me. If you don’t trust me…”

“It’s not about trust. It has nothing to do with that. We both know that.” My chest was starting to ache—there was no way to win this. I knew if I got on that plane with him, any life we might have had together would be short-lived. I knew if I didn’t, I would have to deal with the mess in D.C.—deal with my parents and Daniel. I just couldn’t help but feel that making the decision to stand up for myself was the right one. I knew he wanted to protect me. I knew that I would love nothing more than to
be
protected. I just also knew that if I ran from my life, it would catch up to me. I knew it would probably catch up to me at the end of that flight to Sydney, and I didn’t want to think about what that meant.

“I can’t help you if you go there, Jen. I can’t do a damned thing. If I go anywhere near you while you’re there…”

“I know.” I rested my head against his chest, pressing my ear against it. I felt his embrace tighten around me and I stood there for a long moment, listening to the sound of his heart beating in my ear. I did know that he wouldn’t be able to protect me. But there was something pulling at me, almost demanding that this time—this time, I needed to protect myself.

I heard his phone chime in his pocket and I pulled away from him, looking back up into his eyes.

“Jen…”

“You’re not going to answer it?” That phone had caused so many problems. The fact that he kept it should have told me enough. Knowing he was still clinging to whatever business it was that he was doing should have soothed me—should have told me that deciding to take care of myself was the right decision. But the sound of it still made my stomach drop. It still made my skin flush with something that almost felt like anger. Even though there was a huge part of my heart that wanted to believe everything he said—that he was there to protect me—there was an almost equally large part of my head that said something still wasn’t right. There was still something about him … something that I was sure I shouldn’t trust.

But I was tired of waffling. I was tired of being unsure of my decisions. It was time for me to stand on my own two feet. I took a deep breath and looked into his eyes, not waiting for him to answer my previous question. “Brandon, I’m going to D.C. I know it isn’t what you want…”