“Hey, sleeping beauty! There’s a bag of clothes on the couch. If they don’t fit, you can blame my partner,” Lance greeted Jemma from the kitchen. The scent of freshly brewed coffee along with what could only be described as culinary perfection filled her lungs.

“What are you making?” she asked as she grabbed a mug off the rack by the coffee pot.

“Pumpkin pie pancakes, brown sugar bacon, hash browns, and scrambled eggs.”

“It smells amazing.”

“Thanks. I don’t mean to brag, but my parents taught me how to whip up some amazing breakfast food. Besides, I’m trying to get into the holiday season since Thanksgiving is only a week away.”

“It is?”

He gaped at her. “You don’t know when Thanksgiving is?”

Jemma shook her head. “I haven’t celebrated it since my mom died.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Jemma nodded in appreciation and took a sip of the black coffee. “That’s the stuff,” she said as she took a seat at the bar and watched Lance finish cooking and make two plates.

“Bon appetite!” he said with a smile and began eating. “So tell me about yourself,” he asked around a mouthful of pancake.

“Not much to tell. My mom was killed when I was a kid, my dad’s a psycho, and I think I might be dating a cop.” The confession fell from her lips, and she immediately shoveled a piece of syrupy pancake into her mouth to keep more from coming out.

“I think you are,” Lance said with a laugh. “King is pretty fond of you.”

“How do you know that?”

“Well, for one, he threatened to castrate me if anything were to happen to you.”

Her face paled. “He did not.”

“Well, not directly, but I imagine he would if it did.” He laughed, and Jemma found herself smiling.

“Now you know me, tell me about you.”

“Hmm, where to start? Well, I was given up for adoption when I was a newborn, although my biological mother did come visit me for the first nine years of my life. It wasn’t until right before my tenth birthday that she stopped showing up.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

He shrugged. “I was raised by amazing people who loved and cared for me. Not much more you can ask for than that.”

“Did you ever find out why she stopped coming? Your mom.”

He shook his head. “I looked into it then, and once again after I got my badge, but I never found anything on her. It was as if she completely disappeared.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.

Jemma reached for a photograph as he handed it to her. Her face paled, her heartbeat quickened, her palms grew clammy as she stared down at the mother and son in the photograph.

There was no denying she recognized the woman staring back at her.

It was her mother.

“This is your mother?”

“Yep, the only picture I have of her.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“May fifteenth, why?”

Jemma stood so fast the bar stool clattered to the ground. She backed away from Lance as if he were a walking plague.

“What is it?”

“I was born May fifteenth. That’s my mother.” She pointed to the woman in the photo.

“I don’t think it’s funny to mess with me about this,” he warned, but Jemma held up her hand.

“I swear to you this is not a joke. My mother was killed two days before my tenth birthday. My father shot her in front of me.”

The color drained from Lance’s face. “It’s not possible. If what you’re saying is true, my biological father is--”

“Liam Charmont.” Jemma finished for him.

Lance stared at her as if she had a third eye. It wasn’t until his cell rang that he broke eye contact with her.

“Zarbey,” he said gruffly. “She’s right here.” He leaned forward and handed her his cell.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Jemma, it’s good to hear your voice.” Caid’s words barely registered.

“Yeah, I--”

“What is it?” His concern was evident, and it’s what caused her to snap back to reality.

“You should come back.”

“I’m on my way.” He hung up the phone, and Jemma and Lance continued to stare at each other.

* * *

“What the hell happened?” Caid demanded as he stormed in ready for a fight thirty minutes later. “I got here as fast as I could.”

“Show Caid the picture,” she said to Lance, and he held it out to Caid.

He took it, and after a moment of confusion asked, “what am I missing?”

“That’s my mom.” Jemma said.

Caid’s voice took on an accusatory tone. “Why do you have a picture of Jemma’s mom?”

“That’s his mom too,” Jemma answered.

“Wait a minute, that would mean -- ohhhh.” It clicked, and Caid couldn’t help the smile on his face.

“Why the fuck are you laughing?” Lance and Jemma both lashed out.

“How do you not think this coincidence is funny? You two have been related this whole time, which makes the jealousy I felt leaving you here alone together really fucking awkward.”

Lance started laughing next, and Jemma could do nothing but stare open-mouthed at the lunatics in front of her. “How do you think this is funny?”

“You have to admit; it is a rather strange turn of events.”

“Okay, but funny? No.”

“What, you liked being an only child?” Lance taunted.

“I hate the fact that I’m biologically related to a murderer, and it just so happens you are too, and that makes you want to laugh?”

Caid and Lance both stopped abruptly, and Lance took a step toward Jemma. “Just because a man has a part in making you does not mean he’s your father. The man who raised me kindly, offered me a safe and loving home to go to every day? He’s my father. The Runner is simply the sperm donor.”

She wasn’t sure what part of his statement did it, but a weight Jemma had been carrying along with the guilt over the things her father had done lifted. Lance was right, she wasn’t responsible for what Liam Charmont had done. She would still stop him, but now she wasn’t alone.

“So, who’s older?” Caid asked, breaking the silence and bringing a smile to Jemma’s face.

Lance was the one who responded, “We’re twins.”

* * *

“So, is it weird?”

“Is what weird?” Jemma asked as they ate dinner that night. Lance had gone out to meet with an informant who supposedly knew something about her father’s operation. She didn’t want to voice it, but she doubted very much that he knew anything. Liam was discreet, and those who knew anything about what he did or who he did it with were either loyal or too afraid to say anything.

“Finding out you have a brother. I’ve always had a sibling, so I’m curious how you’re feeling about it now.”

“It’s not as strange as I thought it would have been. I think I’m more angry than anything.”

“Angry?”

“My mother sent him away, which tells me that she knew how dangerous Liam was. So why not leave altogether? Why was Lance so important that she would try to protect him, but not me?”

“You didn’t seem angry earlier.”

‘It’s not Lance’s fault. I know better than to be petty and jealous with him, but it makes me really friggin mad at my mom.”

Caid reached over and touched her hand gently. It amazed her how such little effort could do so much to put her mind at ease. The anger she was feeling toward her mother was battling against the guilt she carried because she felt mad. The contradiction was driving the rational part of her mind crazy.

“Jemma.”

Jemma looked up and realized she was crying.

“If I had to guess, I would say your mother sent Lance away and not you because she was trying to protect you both. If Liam had had a son to pass his business onto, Lance would have been next in line, which would have made him more important than you to Liam. She would have probably sent you both away if she thought she could get away with it. She made the best decision she could have in her mind.”

“Why not leave him altogether?”

“Because she probably loved him on some level. I know you don’t want to hear it, and Lord knows I don’t understand it, but your mother had to have loved him at some point and probably wanted to have that happy family she believed she could.”

“I don’t know that I can forgive her.”

“You have to, Jemma. Or you won’t ever forgive yourself for it.”

She closed her eyes and leaned against him when he put his arm around her shoulders. How was she supposed to forgive a woman who had spent years deceiving her? Would she have ever told her about her brother? Or would he have stayed her own private secret forever?

“Would beating the shit out of me make you feel better?”

Jemma laughed, and Caid kissed the top of her head. “I thought it might. Come on.” He stood, and Jemma slid off the bar stool after him. She followed him into the living room and helped him move the furniture back again.

She knew he was letting her win, so she worked harder, and when she started seeing the sweat beading on his brow, even her own exhaustion couldn’t keep the smile from blooming on her face.

The smug satisfaction in knowing she made a man practically made of muscle sweat made her feel infinitely better.

“Damn, Jemma, I’m starting to think you like hurting me.”

“Not all the time.” She laughed breathlessly and grabbed a bottle of water off the counter. “I will say, as much fun as it is sparring with you, I miss Mikel.”

“Hey, I think I’m adequate.”

She shot him a glare. “Not what I meant.”

He grinned. “I know. She and her family left town for a while.”

“It was a smart move on their part.” She walked to the window and pulled the curtain back briefly to stare out at the tree line. “It’s only going to be a matter of time before he comes for me, Caid.”

Caid walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned back against him, and her head fell to the side as he pressed a light kiss to her neck.

“I won’t let him hurt you.”

“You may not be able to stop him.”