Chapter 2 #4
He padded barefoot to the basement, the stairs illuminated with a soft, motion-triggered glow.
The office was his favorite place in the world, a clean, engineered space, the walls lined with books and monitors, sound-damped with custom foam, the lighting set to an exact Kelvin he found most comfortable.
He booted up his main computer, which he’d built himself with a custom motherboard and more RAM than was strictly legal in three European countries.
As the icons flickered to life on the main curved display, he could feel the world narrow to a point, just him and the machine and the problem waiting to be solved.
The screensaver, which was his favorite photo of himself, Niko, and Frankie at Bad AX Throwing a few years earlier in New York, filled the screen.
It was the only photo AJ had of himself laughing.
His sister was sandwiched between the twins, and her best friend Zion Ash, who was a world-famous photographer, had snapped the photo.
They’d gone out to celebrate after Niko pitched a perfect game against the NY Mets.
That night AJ didn’t have a care in the world, his brain was quiet, and he felt completely happy and relaxed, which was rare for him.
Before AJ could answer the Davies’ question, his first five minutes were spent on his methodical review of recent communications: emails, texts, and social media feeds.
He had a system that he never wavered from.
Next, he checked newsfeeds and his personal accounts.
Once he was done, he got to work. He logged into several secure databases, cross-referencing everything relevant to the name Davies.
Within six minutes, AJ had confirmed his suspicion, Dr. Sterling was not Liam’s biological father, despite being named on the birth certificate.
His biological father was one Michael Davies, deceased.
The obituary had a photo attached. It was small and grainy, but the man had dark hair, a wide grin, and broad shoulders.
The resemblance between Michael and Liam was remarkable.
He was survived by Teresa, his wife of thirty-one years, also three daughters, Paulina, Pippa, and Phoebe, granddaughter Zora and twin grandsons Ezra and Elan.
AJ’s fingers flew over the keys, calling up property records, alumni networks and medical licensure databases.
There was a thread there, and he was pulling it faster than most people could even see it.
He discovered Liam uploaded his DNA to a public genealogy site when he got out of the military at the age of twenty-four, two years after Micheal, his father, passed away.
He changed his last name at that time, so he was now Dr. Liam Davies.
It didn’t surprise AJ that Liam hadn’t remained a Sterling.
He and Dr. Sterling hadn’t ever gotten along, which is why it hadn’t surprised AJ Liam hadn’t spoken to his father since his mom, Celeste, passed twelve years ago.
He wondered if Dr. Sterling knew Liam had found out the truth and had changed his name.
He wondered if Liam knew that his dad and AJ’s mom were going to be getting married.
AJ’s mind was spinning with questions when something stuck out to him.
A name. It hadn’t originally caught his attention, most likely because it blended in with the other Davies sisters’ names.
The familial DNA that had linked Liam to the Davies was a Poppy Davies, who was ten years younger than the eldest, Paulina.
It also appeared she had a different mom, Kerri Wilson.
He googled her name, expecting a LinkedIn profile or a blurry graduation photo.
What appeared on the screen instead was a high-resolution photo, from the hospital website, of a staff group shot on the steps outside the entrance.
There were twenty people wearing scrubs in the image, all of them mid-laugh, as if someone had made a very effective joke right before the shutter clicked.
But even in the chaos of faces and uniforms, AJ’s gaze zeroed in on Poppy in less than a second.
The sunlight shimmered off her long, dark locks that framed her sweetheart face.
A constellation of freckles was sprinkled over her turned-up nose, and full cherry-red lips tilted up in a mischievous grin.
Her light blue-green eyes surrounded by dark, inky lashes stared directly at the camera, wide and expressive, challenging the lens to see her, to really see her.
She looked impulsive and irrepressible, like she was seconds from bursting out laughing, or winking seductively, or sticking out her tongue playfully.
AJ felt a physical jolt, a spike of sensation so sharp he thought for a moment he’d gotten a static shock from the keyboard. He blinked, and all the usual background noise in his body—his heartbeat, the low sizzle of anxiety, the thousand tiny discomforts of being alive—went blissfully silent.
He realized, with a kind of distant awe, that he was experiencing sensory joy.
It was rare, and it never happened to him like this.
Usually, it was water, a flowing river, a babbling brook, crashing waves of the ocean, or the hiss of a rainstorm with the window open.
Sometimes it was music, but only the right chord progression, and only if it arrived when he least expected it.
Very occasionally, it was a perfect phrase in a book or the rustle of trees.
But this…looking at a stranger’s face in the digital ether…
this was new. The sensation was physical, a buzz along his scalp, a tingle through his fingertips, and a happy compression behind his sternum.
He stared for a minute, then another, waiting for the feeling to fade.
It didn’t. His mind surged with the need to analyze, to pick apart the why of this reaction, but some deeper part of him just wanted to sit in it, to let it wash over him.
A message popped up in the corner of his computer screen. It was from Emory.
Emory: You don’t have to be a dick.
Most, if not all, of AJ’s relationships had been casual. Women always said they could handle being with him when they got together, that they wouldn’t be offended by him being honest and blunt, but inevitably he would hurt them.
AJ ignored the message. It was better that way. The more he tried to explain himself, the worse he ended up making things.
Instead, he went to Poppy’s social media.
When he brought up her Instagram page, he was momentarily paralyzed.
Each photo was more stunning than the next.
Her eyes were a unique shade of blue-green, like the waters off the Amalfi Coast. Her full, raspberry-tinted lips made his mouth water.
She had photos of her playing mini-golf, in casinos, at a skating rink, skiing, on the pickleball court, dressed as a human-sized gingerbread cookie, in a dunk tank, and running marathons.
Usually, this woman’s profile would make AJ immediately know they had nothing in common. Crowds, loud places, flashing lights, and costumes were all nightmares for him, but instead of turning him off, they intrigued him and made him want to know more about her. They didn’t scare him at all.
AJ had never met this woman and had no information about her whatsoever other than she was the half-sister of a man he’d grown up with, but he knew with absolute certainty if she was the one texting him to come over, his answer would be yes. No hesitation. No second thoughts. Just yes.