It Might Be You Read online

  “I’m Nick Martell,” he said to her, finding his voice just before he pulled on the mask. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you too, Mr. Martell.” Amanda’s voice revealed a bit of an accent. Purest Noo Yawk. He loved it.

  “Please, call me Nick.”

  “Well, Nick, everyone’s been anxious to meet you since they got the news,” she said. “It’s amazing that you’re a match, and that you were found. What a gift . . .” She reached up to adjust the mask over his nose and chin. Their eyes met again, and his heart gave a little kick in his chest. “Much less that you were willing and actually came here to do this.”

  “Everyone keeps saying that,” he murmured. “Like I wouldn’t have done this?”

  “A lot of people might not have,” she said, stepping back.

  “Why not?” he asked, his voice a bit muffled from the mask.

  “Because it’s gonna hurt,” Myles said from the bed. They all turned to look at him. His eyes were glued to Nick. “You know that, and you came anyway.”

  “That’s right.” Nick moved to the boy’s side, but shot a glance at Amanda. “Can I sit on the edge of the bed? These are clean clothes, not from the airport.”

  “Then sure,” she said.

  Nick sat carefully on the edge of the mattress. “So, Myles . . . I don’t know if they told you anything about me?”

  “Not really,” he said. “I know you’re from Miami, Florida, and that you’re a possible bone marrow donor because your whatever pretty much matched mine, and the odds of that are really small. I mean, they tested every single member of my family, and none of them were a match. But they found you, on the registry. Which is great.” Myles quirked a wry grin. “I mean, I hate to tell you this, Obi-Wan, but you might be my only hope.”

  Nick swallowed hard. This kid, with the sallow skin, stuck in bed, had a sharp mind, a dry sense of humor that belied his young age, and the sweetest eyes. This kid was his nephew, for God’s sake. “I’m glad they found me. Look . . . I’m going to do whatever they need me to do. And you and me, we’re going to give this our best shot.”

  “And it’s going to hurt you.” Myles sighed. “I’ve been sick for a while already. I know what it’s like to feel like total crap. To be poked and prodded and . . . you probably don’t. So I feel bad about that. That you’re going to have to feel bad to help me.”

  Jesus, this kid was only twelve? Nick stared hard, willing him to listen. “Hey. Myles. I don’t care. I can take it.”

  Myles just looked at him.

  “Let me tell you a little more about me.” Nick cleared his throat, remembering he had an audience of three standing behind him . . . one of whom would find out before the night was through that they were siblings. He chose his words carefully. “I’m physically strong. I work out a lot, because it’s important that I stay fit. Because I’m a police officer. So that means I’m not afraid of danger, I’m strong, and I always try to do what’s right. Those are all good qualities for a bone marrow donor, if you ask me.”

  Myles nodded, taking that all in. “So you’re a policeman, huh?”

  “Yes, sir. Five years now.”

  “Cool. Do you have a gun?”

  “Not with me,” Nick said. “I left it home. I’m not on duty, kid.”

  “Have you ever been shot?”

  “Nope.” He added with a shrug, “Stabbed once, but it was minor, thankfully.”

  “That must’ve hurt.”

  “Sure, it did. But look at me—I’m fine, aren’t I?”

  Myles nodded slowly, studying him with fresh eyes. “I didn’t know you were a cop. That’s really cool.”

  Nick breathed a small sigh of relief. He was glad to see Myles thought positively about his being a policeman.

  “So . . . if you’re a cop,” Myles said, “you must be pretty tough, then.”

  “Well, I like to think so,” Nick said, only half kidding. “So what I’m trying to tell you is . . . don’t worry about if it’s gonna hurt, whatever they’re going to do to me. Really, from what they say, it shouldn’t be bad at all. I can take it. And if it’ll help you get better, I don’t mind. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Myles grinned softly. “Thanks. Thank you for coming. It’s so cool to get to meet you in person. I know not everyone wants to meet the person they’re donating to. They get weirded out.”

  A lump formed in Nick’s throat. “Nah, not me. And you’re welcome.” He cleared his throat harder. “So the way I see it, we only have one problem, kid.”

  Myles’s grin turned to a frown. “What’s that?”

  Nick flicked his chin in the direction of Myles’s baseball cap. “Yankees? Seriously? I’m a big Marlins fan. You sure we can hang out?”

  Everyone in the room laughed.

  “You’re in New York now,” Charles mock warned. “Watch yourself, Nick.”

  Nick blew out a fake breath of exasperation and rolled his eyes before shooting Myles a wink and a grin.

  “Do you have any kids of your own?” Myles asked him.

  “Me? No. Been kinda married to my job. Maybe one day. Why?”

  “I was wondering if you ever play video games,” Myles said.

  “Sure, I do.” Nick shot a glance at the Xbox controller on the nightstand. “Wanna play sometime?”

  “Yeah, sure!” The boy’s face lit up. “I have every game you could want. What do you like to play?”

  “Why don’t we let you two talk,” Lisette said, moving toward the door. “I have to see about dinner. It should be ready by now.”

  “Come on down in about ten minutes,” Charles said to Nick. “Sound good?”

  “Sure, whatever you want.” He flicked a glance to Myles, then Amanda. “Um . . . but . . . ?”

  “We eat up here,” Myles said, “when there’s company. Too many germs. They visit me in shifts, with masks and all.”

  “Oh.” Nick felt bad for the kid, being sequestered away from his whole family, but figured by now he was used to it. His eyes lingered on Amanda.

  “We’ll be fine,” she said, as if reading his thoughts.

  Jesus, she was pretty. And her voice felt like . . . comfort. Warmth. Nick was drawn to her, an actual tangible pull. He wanted to touch her hair, her cheek....

  What. The. Actual. Fuck. What was going on with him?

  Thankfully, Charles spoke. “Thank you, Amanda. Myles, see you real soon, okay? And I know your uncles and aunts will come back up to see you again. Nick, see you in a few.” He and Lisette left the room.

  Nick turned back to look at Myles. “So tell me what games you like to play, and I’ll see if I know any of ’em. If I don’t, you can teach me.”

  “Tonight?” Myles asked.

  “Yeah, maybe. Or another day. I’ll come back, if you want. You want me to?”

  “Like . . . you’ll come just to hang out with me?”

  Nick nodded as something heavy snaked through his chest. You’re my nephew. And you could die if this doesn’t work. I want to know you while I can. “Is that cool? I’m here for about two weeks, and it’s not like my days are filled with plans. I don’t know anyone in New York. So playing video games with you sounds good to me. If it’s okay with your parents, that is, and if you wanted.”

  “That’d be awesome!” Myles said, brightening. “My sisters don’t like video games, and I’m tired of Thomas—that’s my big brother—beating me all the time.”

  Amanda laughed. “You give him a run for his money. He doesn’t win every time.”

  “Yeah, but when he wins, he’s a sore winner,” Myles grumbled.

  Amanda nodded as she said, “Got a point there.”

  Nick looked to her and asked, “You’re here every day?”

  “Weekdays,” she said. “From one to nine. He has a night nurse, a morning nurse, and a weekend nurse when he’s not feeling well. But I’m here every day no matter what, just to keep an eye on him.”

  He gazed into her eyes, the color of a soft spring sky. “
Good to know.”

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, Nick walked down the stairs. The echoes of many voices traveled from down the hallway. Bracing himself, he went toward the sounds. All the Harrisons were in there. His blood relatives. It was a surreal, daunting thought. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding of his heart, then entered what turned out to be a tremendous dining room.

  A long table, set for twenty, filled the space. Nick quickly scanned the scene. Lots of windows, expensive furnishings—there was a crystal chandelier, for fuck’s sake—and so many people. The young kids were noisy, and the adults were seated, except for a blonde woman who stood fussing over a bib on a baby boy in a high chair. Charles sat at the far head of the table, Lisette to his right. Three dark-haired kids flanked her, and Nick surmised they were Charles’s kids. To Charles’s left was . . . guy had curly hair, sitting next to a flaming redhead, so that had to be Dane and his singer wife. And then yup, there was Tess; Nick recognized her right away. She was striking. There were three very young children between her and a broad, bearded blond guy. Jesus, her husband was big. On the other side of the table was . . . of course, that had to be Pierce, and two tiny boys between him and the blonde woman. It was a rowdy scene and a lot to take in.

  Even more so because he was related to most of the people in this room.

  Nick’s head swam and his heart kept pounding. He shoved his clammy hands into his pockets and took a few steps inside.

  “Hey, there he is,” Charles said with a smile, and a hush fell over the room. Seventeen pairs of eyes pinned him.

  Nick tried to grin, but it felt fake on his face. “Hello.”

  “Everyone, this is Nick Martell,” Charles announced.

  “Hi!” Tess’s older daughter squeaked and waved at him.

  He grinned at her. “Hi.”

  But Tess gasped audibly. She stared at him, hard, and slowly rose to her feet. Christ, she was tall, and her wide blue eyes were like icy lasers spearing him.

  A chill prickled over Nick’s skin, and Maria’s words echoed in his head. You’re so much like him. You walk in there, they’re going to take one look at you and know who you are. Jesus, had she been right?

  “Babe?” the big blond guy asked, watching her with furrowed brow.

  “You’re . . . who are you?” Tess demanded of Nick, her voice edgy.

  “I’m the possible bone marrow donor for Myles,” he said.

  “No.” She gazed intently, as if she’d seen a ghost. “Charles,” she stammered, her eyes never leaving Nick’s face. “Look at him.”

  “Tess,” Charles said, “what’s this about?”

  She kept staring at him. Nick just stared back at her.

  You are the neon sign.

  “Dane,” she gasped out. “Pierce. Come on, really look at him! He’s . . . he’s related to us somehow.”

  A hush fell over the room, as if even the babies sensed something big was happening. Nick glanced at his brothers. They looked clueless. He didn’t move.

  “Tess,” Charles started to say with a laugh. “What are you—”

  “He looks just like Dad,” she said. “Give Dad black hair and a deep tan, take him back to his twenties, and I’d swear I was looking right at him.”

  Nick blew out a slow, long breath and met her gaze directly. “So I’ve heard.”

  Tess blinked and her lips parted in shock.

  “Excuse me?” Charles said, his eyes narrowing as they now locked on Nick.

  “Whaaaat?” Pierce’s eyes flew wide.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dane blurted.

  “So I’m right!” Tess said. “Oh, my God.” She looked from him to her brothers, glancing wildly from one to the next. “How could you look at him and not know he’s a Harrison somehow? Am I the only one who ever looked at old family photo albums?”

  Charles stared hard at Nick for a long beat. Nick watched, seeing how his eyes widened when it hit him. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “I see it now. Holy shit!” His hands flew up to hold his head, rake through his hair.

  “Um . . . we should talk,” Nick suggested. He looked around the room, at one stunned face after another, and tried to breathe. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you all . . . but yeah. Charles, Tess, Dane, Pierce . . . we should go in another room and talk.”

  Dane shot to his feet, eyes blazing. “Tess is right?”

  “Seems that way,” Nick said. His heart felt like it was going to jump out of his chest, Alien style. But he didn’t move a muscle, fought to keep cool.

  Pierce huffed out a laugh. “This . . . this is gonna be epic, then.” He got to his feet at the same time Charles did. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

  Everyone in the room was staring at Nick like he’d just dropped out of the sky from another planet. He wanted to laugh, and crawl out of his skin, and get the hell out of there, and ask a million questions, all at the same time. But all he said was, “I only found out myself a few days ago. It’s been an interesting week.”

  “How?” Charles shouted. The room went dead silent in the face of his outburst.

  But all it did was snap Nick to attention. “Do you really want to do this here?” he asked quietly, his eyes doing a quick scan of the children’s confused faces.

  “Go in the den,” Lisette said urgently to Charles. “All five of you. We’ve got this. Abby, Julia, Logan, and I will give the kids dinner. You guys just go.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Charles growled, “until I have a name.”

  “Charles,” Lisette begged.

  “Who?” Charles shouted at Nick. “Tell me right now.”

  Nick noticed the way Charles’s stare had turned wild and somewhat lethal, so he said mildly, “When you were kids, do you remember a housekeeper that worked in your home named Maria Sanchez?”

  Tess gasped and her mouth dropped open. Dane’s head whipped around to gape at Charles, who visibly paled.

  “I don’t,” Pierce said. “But clearly that name rings a bell for you three?”

  “I was sixteen when she worked for us,” Charles stammered. He was clearly stunned, eyes wide behind his glasses. “She was only there a short time, but of course I remember her. She was very shy, sweet. Only a few years older than me.”

  “You had a little crush on her,” Dane said quietly to Charles.

  “Yeah, well . . .” Nick licked his dry lips. “Apparently, so did your father.”

  Chapter Six

  Charles led the way down the hall to another room, holding the door open for them all. Pierce, Dane, and Tess all filed inside. Nick went last, all his senses fired up. His blood pulsed in his veins, his hands were a little clammy, and his breaths were shallow. He hadn’t felt like this since his last undercover op was about to end.

  They were in a den now, with comfortable couches and plush armchairs, a wide love seat by the bay window. Lots of big windows in this house. Nick knew they must let in lots of natural light during the day, but the sky was growing darker now, a deep navy mixed in with the cloud cover. Charles closed the door behind him as the others stood together, staring at Nick like he was a scientific specimen.

  “Everyone sit,” Charles said.

  “I’m more comfortable standing,” Nick said plainly.

  Charles got close, right in his face, and glared at him. “You came to my home, came near me and my son, my children . . . knowing this—this—what you know. I told you I trusted you!”

  “Yes,” Nick said. “But calm yourself. I’m not here to hurt anyone. I’m here to help someone, remember?”

  Charles blinked, but didn’t move. The mixture of cold fury and wild disbelief in his gaze was fascinating to Nick.

  “Why don’t we hear what he has to say,” Pierce suggested, “before we think of beating him up, huh?”

  At that, Nick looked away from Charles to Pierce. The youngest sibling was . . . flippant. Not outraged or boiling over, like the other three. Surprised, but not ready to spring into action. Mor
e curious, or even amused. Interesting.

  Charles, however, looked downright lethal. “What do you want from us?”

  Nick’s eyes snapped back to his as he spat low, “Not a damn thing.”

  “Stand down, Charles,” Pierce said. “Let him talk.”

  Nick and Charles stood toe to toe, eyes locked, jaws clenched.

  “What do you know?” Tess asked calmly. “What can you tell us?”

  “Why doesn’t he start with exactly how he’s related to us?” Dane asked.

  At that, Nick drew a long breath and stepped back from Charles. He looked from one face to the next. They all were so alike. He didn’t look like them. He wasn’t like them at all. This whole thing was crazy. “Apparently, I’m the accidental result of a brief secret affair between my mother, Maria Sanchez, and your father, Charles Harrison the second. So . . .” He huffed out a breath. “That makes me your half brother.”

  Tess slowly sank to sit on the couch, eyes wide. Dane’s mouth formed a little O of shock. Pierce nodded slowly, then almost grinned as he said, “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  Charles didn’t move, but still stared at Nick. “When were you born?”

  “March 28, 1989.” Nick added, “In Miami. You want to check?”

  “Oh, believe me, I will,” Charles vowed.

  “Go right ahead. You should. God knows I’ve been doing research on all of you since my mom dropped the bomb on me.”

  “Have you now,” Charles said. Anger radiated off him in palpable waves.

  “Of course I have. Just like you would if someone turned your world upside down with news like this,” Nick said, unblinking. He looked to the others. “I didn’t know. I never knew. She only told me last week, and she didn’t want to even then.”

  “Why did she, then?” Charles asked, almost a challenge.

  “Because when I told my parents I’d been tagged as a match for Myles, and spoken to you,” he said pointedly to Charles, “when I told them your name, she passed out. Literally, she fainted when she heard your name. She knew she had to tell me the truth then, and she did.”

  The room was silent. The air was alive and thick, crackling with electricity, like a summer lightning storm.

  “Your father seduced my mother when she was working for him,” Nick said. “I think they were only involved for a couple of months. But my mother took off when she realized she was pregnant. Quit the job, left New York, and went to stay with her family in Miami. She was only twenty years old. She hid and kept me away from here—and, knowing my uncles and aunts, took the shame and the stigma—rather than tell the truth. You get that?”