Page 35 of Time for Change

He waits a few long seconds before jumping right into it. “Talk.”

I let out a slow, deep exhale and close my eyes. “My name is Stevie Clement, and I’ll be twenty-one on March eighteenth. I was born and raised in Roberts, Ohio, though I moved around my entire life. In one year, we lived in seven different places, and I spent three months living in a broke-down old car in somealley when I was seven.” I take another calming breath because I know this is the part he’s really interested in. Meeting his gaze, I add, “My parents are Joey Clement and Wanda Tankersley.”

His eyes narrow very slightly, but that’s the only indication he gives to let me know he recognized at least one name.

“Listen, I don’t know anything about my mom, other than she was kind of a shitty parent,” I say, earning me a snort from the man standing across from me. “All I know is my parents met, moved to Roberts, had me, and split up years later. They never married. I lived with my mom most of the time, if you can even call it that, since she was never there, and went to my dad’s on the weekends, which wasn’t much better. The moment I graduated at eighteen, I moved into my own place. When I was packing my stuff, I found one small box shoved in the back of the living room closet. I was looking for my birth certificate, Social Security card, or anything for more identification. Inside, stuffed deep in the box was that photograph. I flipped it over and saw the names Jameson, age six, and BJ, age four, along with my mom’s name at the bottom. It didn’t take too much research to realize she had a whole life before me I didn’t know about.”

Jameson doesn’t reply, just stares back at me. I can tell he’s thinking though, even though his face is stone.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner, but I was trying to figure out how. I don’t know you or BJ, and I guess I wanted to see what kind of people you were before I just dropped the whole ‘I’m your little sister’ bomb.”

“You weren’t going to tell us?”

“Eventually, yeah, but probably not right away,” I confess.

“So…you came to town, rented an apartment, started working for my business, just to lurk in the shadows and see what kind of people we are?”

I nod.

“But I found the photo,” he states.

“Yeah. It’s usually on my bedroom dresser, but when I heard the water running and had it in my hand, I ran in here and set it on the counter without thinking.”

He continues to watch me, assessing and searching. For what, I’m not entirely sure, but I can imagine he’s trying to figure out if I’m lying or not. From what I’ve gathered about him, he’s incredibly private and usually doesn’t have a lot to say—unless it’s warranted.

Jameson sighs loudly and runs his hand over his face. Then he pushes off the counter where he’s leaning and takes a step toward me. Even just one step seems to close what little distance there is between us, and my entire body tenses. He clearly notices my reaction and says, “I’d never hurt you.”

My shoulders relax a little, not because of what he said, but because I believe him.

“Get some sleep. It’s late.” He turns and walks toward the door, his heavy footfalls echoing loudly through the apartment.

“You’re leaving?” I ask, jumping up. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t him walking away.

Jameson stops at the door and glances over his shoulder. “I’ll be back, don’t worry. We have a lot to discuss, but it’s late. You worked tonight and need rest.”

“Oh.” That single word is full of relief. I may not have been quite ready to tell him I was his sister, but I’m relieved he’s not telling me to fuck off and walking away.

Even though I knew it was a strong possibility, I was terrified of being brushed off.

Just like I have been my entire life.

“Plus, you passed out. You probably need to get some rest.”

I can’t stop the unladylike snort. “Rest, sure. I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep tonight,” I mumble softly.

The corner of his mouth ticks up for a fraction of a second. “That’ll make two of us.” He releases the lock on the door and pulls it open. “Talk to you soon, Stevie.”

Nodding, I step forward, prepared to secure the door once he’s out. “Be safe going home,” I tell him.

Shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he exits my apartment and heads for the stairs. I peek out, watching him go, overwhelmed with what has transpired in the last half hour. With a deep exhale, I slip back inside my apartment and secure both locks before leaning against the door.

Holy shit.

I can’t believe he knows.

Ever since I found that picture, discovered who was in it, and figured out I have siblings, I’ve wondered how this day would go. No, it didn’t transpire exactly as expected, but it could have been worse. He could have walked out of the door without so much as a glance back.

Feeling more tired than I anticipated, I retrieve my cell phone and head for my bedroom and climb into bed. I want to grab my book and read, but the heaviness in my eyelids tells me it’s not a good idea. Instead, I curl up on my side, cuddle into my pillow, and smile.

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