Okay. So. To say I wasn't expecting that was an understatement, and I felt every synapse in my brain suddenly fire. I was left to stare at the kid trying to act like he hadn't just dropped an atomic bomb, and trying not to dismiss it either.
"What...makes you think that?" I asked, feeling it was probably the safest choice.
Micah shrugged. “I don't know. I look like him, don't I?"
"You look like me too," I pointed out, wondering if I should call Moira and Jace over for the conversation or not.
"Well, you're myuncle," he said with exasperation far beyond his years. "We're supposed to look alike."
"I...suppose that's true."
"And I look like Mom."
"You do."
"So I guess I should look like my dad too."
"I guess...that's also true, yeah."
"And I look a lot like Jace."
"O...Kay. Does that bother you?"
"I don't know, I mean...I don't think so. But if he is my dad...why didn't I know?"
"Uh—"
"But I'm kind of like him too, you know? Weird."
I bit back a laugh. “You think he's weird?"
"Well,yeah. He's weird like Mom is. Grandma, you, you're all...different than Mom is, but she's different like Jace is different. Kinda like Uncle Arlo, and a little like Uncle Eli."
"They're serious."
"Yeah, like I am."
"I see."
He turned to stare up at me, brow furrowed. “You see? You know...don't you?"
"I..." I was at a loss for words is what I was because I was definitely not prepared to have a talk with my nephew about his parentage.
Micah huffed crossly. “But why? Why didn't anyone tell me?"
There was no way in hell I was going to sell Moira out, even if I’d agreed from the start that she shouldn't have kept that information to herself. "Does it matter?"
Micah stared at me for a moment, blinking before his frown returned. "What do you mean?"
"Does it matter if he's your dad or not?" I asked, feeling slightly more confident in the question.
"Why wasn't he here before?" Micah asked, and I felt the careful confidence I'd had crumble in the face of what was a perfectly reasonable question.
All I had was some form of the truth without being brutal. “Would you believe me if I said it wasn't quite that easy?"
"You don't even like him," Micah huffed again, crossing his arms over his chest. "But you're sticking up for him."
I was, and I couldn't even tell myself why. Maybe it was because Jace was a bastard bar none, except maybe me, but hedidn't deserve to be painted as the bad guy in that situation. Yet I couldn't paint his mother in a bad light, even if I thought she deserved to get some shit...but not from her son, who was old beyond his years but not old enough to understand and forgive how messy people could be. At the same time, Jace had become more to me than just some fucker I liked to pick at. I had taken my time realizing there was more to him than just the bastard I once couldn't stand and currently didn't know how to feel about.
