Page 38 of The Roads We Follow

I realize only then that I’m still clutching stolen evidence to my chest. I quickly twist away from Micah and slide Adele’s computer under the cushion of the sofa opposite him.

“That’s not suspicious at all,” he deadpans.

I rotate back to address the crime at hand, but stop short whenI note what he’s wearing on his face for the first time. “You wear glasses?”

“Just for reading.”

Of course he does, because why wouldn’t a guy who doesn’t need any extra points on the attraction scale also wear reading glasses? “Right.”

Micah tugs his headlamp off and proceeds to sweep the light down the length of my body. “What on earth is printed on your pajamas?”

I glance down at the brown, textured spheres haphazardly placed on my matching top and boxers. “Goo Goo Clusters.”

“A what cluster?”

I jerk back a step because this is a personal affront if ever there was one. “How do younotknow what a Goo Goo Cluster is? That’s ... that’s practically sacrilege where I come from.”

He sets the headlamp on the arm of the sofa, casting the entire lounge in a soft aura of white. “Well, where I come from, students text each other a brown emoji that looks suspiciously similar to that whenever they—”

“I’ll have you know that Goo Goo Clusters are a Nashville novelty—chocolate, caramel, marshmallow, nougat, and peanuts. No taste buds can resist them. Not even snooty ones from up north.”

His smile comes slowly. “Then I sincerely hope I’ll get the chance to put that to the test. But in the meantime, perhaps we should get back to your ninja activities in question...”

I glance at the sofa where I’ve stuffed Adele’s laptop. “It’s not what it looks like. I just needed to do some important research.”

“On Adele’s work computer?”

My eyes flick to the floor for a fraction of a second to gather my thoughts, but that’s all it takes to see the workspace he’s created on the floor and side table.

There, at Micah’s feet, is a stack of journals and what looks to be a handwritten timeline with a stretch of dates, locations, scribbled notes, and a handful of names I recognize. Two of which belong to my parents.

And just like that, I wish I could be plunged back into total darkness. I want to unsee all of this so badly that I’d rather turn myself in to Adele than process the truth in front of me.

Like a movie I can’t stop, my mind replays every red flag I chose to ignore since Micah arrived on scene. Every strange circumstance I naïvely labeled as coincidence. Every conversation I blindly participated in. Every pilfered sample chapter I read that included information only a select few from my mama’s past would know about.

Somehow, I foolishly managed to convince myself that Micah was interested in me for more than my family name when really he used me as an accomplice to further a plot against us all.

The running narrative in my head continues to shift in real time.

Micah isn’t here to fill in the gaps of his mother’s timeline; he’s here to finish out an entirely different timeline—one Lynn must have started and sold to the highest bidder before she died. A tell-all to end all tell-alls, authored by the scorned ex-best friend of one Luella Farrow.

And we all fell for it. Most of all—my sweet, generous mother.

“How could you?” My voice breaks on the question. “How could you keep this from us?”

His lighthearted expression changes in an instant. “Raegan, what are you—?”

Disbelief and hurt pulse up my throat in tandem. “You’re him.”

“I’m who?”

I shake my head and soon my entire body follows. “All that talk today about open communication and valuing truth above timing, and yet you showed up here thinking you could keep a secretthis huge?”

Even in the dim light, I see how my words strike him. Yet he doesn’t defend himself or even try to explain my accusation away. He simply remains silent.

Hysteria rises inside me like flood waters.

“You’re not even going to deny it?” I hiss.

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