Page 19 of The Incredible Ordinary

“How many teams are there?”

“Twenty-four.”

“That’s still in the top third of all the teams,” I point out.

“Well, yeah. But barely.”

“Oh, this is going to be a shitshow,” I say, and then I wince before I look around to see if anybody overheard that.

Jordan snorts out a laugh. I fix my gaze on the field in front of us and firmly clamp my mouth shut to refrain from saying whatever incriminating thing my brain is bound to cook up next.

Jordan puts his forearms on the railing in front of us and leans forward casually, eyeing the field with a small smile on his face. I spot Theo running on the other side of the field. Even all the way across from him I can sense the quiet determination that comes off him as he concentrates on the drill.

“Theo seems like a good player. He’s not on the school’s team?” I frown. “Is there a school team?” It’s probably something I should know.

“There is. He didn’t want to switch.” Jordan’s eyes stay on the field. “He was on the team in his previous school, but…” He has a faraway look in his eyes, but then he shakes his head and smiles. “It wasn’t a good experience. This team is a good fit. He’s made friends.” He frowns. “That hasn’t always been the easiest for Theo.” He looks at me, and for a few moments the frown remains before his expression clears. “Anyway, long story short, here we are.”

We fall silent for a bit.

“How does one inherit a brother?” he asks.

I keep my own eyes on the field while I consider that question. And my answer.

“Does the name Gerard Corbin tell you anything?” I eventually ask.

He gives me a blank look before he squints. “It’s faintly familiar, but I don’t…” He shakes his head.

“He was a tennis player.”

“Oh, yeah. Didn’t he di—” His eyes widen, and he clamps his mouth shut.

“Yes, he’s dead.”

He sends me a thoughtful look. “I’m making an educated guess here that the fact that you two share a last name isn’t a coincidence?”

I don’t like talking about my father, but for some reason, I find myself less reluctant than usual right now.

“I’m the oldest. Then Aiden. And now Rory. We’re all half-brothers. Half Gerard and half whoever the wife or mistress at the time was.”

I sound bitter, and I can’t help it. It’s pathetic how I still, after all these years, let it get to me that Gerard was who he was.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

I nod. What the hell is there to say to that, anyway? I press my lips together and keep my eyes firmly on the soccer practicethat’s happening in front of me. I’ve been waiting for the grief to hit ever since I learned about Gerard’s passing. Maybe not grief, exactly, but I thought there would be something. Anger, if nothing else. Sadness about all the things that could have been if I’d picked up the phone during those last few years. Because there was a period there when Gerard did try to contact me. Based on the messages he left me, it was to try and make amends. By then I was too disillusioned and done to reply.

I did think that once the confusion of finding out about Rory had settled a bit, I’d feel something.

There’s nothing.

When I think about Gerard, all I am is numb.

“He wasn’t the best father out there,” I say, as neutrally as I possibly can. “Honestly, he should’ve never gotten married or had kids in the first place. I never asked him why he did. I should’ve. Just out of curiosity.”

I can feel his gaze on the side of my face.

“How old are you?” he asks.

I raise my brows at him. “Thirty-five. Why?”