Page 28 of Blitz
But then, she walked in, and I saw him in her, the same hair and eyes. A feminine version of me.
She wore jeans, a battered backpack slung over one shoulder, and a navy blue University of Pittsburgh hoodie with a goldPittlogo stretched across the chest. She twisted the fraying strap of her backpack around her fingers, a nervous habit that made her seem even younger and more uncertain. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and she looked cute. She scanned the room until her gaze caught mine, then smiled—a little hesitant—and crossed the floor toward me.
“Hey,” she said, casual and light, as if we were old friends catching up after a long day, not two strangers whose entire world had just shifted. Or at least mine had shifted—I had no idea who she was, but she’d known about me for as long as her mom had been gone.
“Rebecca,” I said, standing awkwardly. My hand hovered for a second—handshake? Hug? Run?—before I stuffed it into my pocket.
“Yep. That’s me,” she said, dropping into the chair across from me and tossing her bag to the floor. She reached for a menu, her hand shaking slightly when she picked it up, and my gut twisted again. Either she was nervous to talk to me… or she was a hell of an actress.
“Sorry I’m late. The bus broke down,” she said. “But I figured you might think I was running a con for your money orsomething and bail, so I sprinted two blocks in these.” She lifted a foot to show a pair of busted sneakers. “Dedication, right?”
I huffed to cover the awful feeling in my gut about how many pairs of sneakers I had in storage that I’d never wear. “Depends on what you’re dedicated to.”
Her smile dimmed slightly, but she didn’t flinch. “Not your wallet, if that’s what you’re thinking.” She set the menu down and leaned forward, then headed over to the counter, coming back with coffee, and it seemed as if she’d taken the time to consider what to say next.
“So—”
“Look, I want to get this out first. I don’t want your money. I don’t want your father’s money. I don’t want anyone to know I’m anything to do with him. I don’t want a freaking kidney, okay? I just… maybe wanted to get to know my brother. If that’s something you want, too.”
Brother. The word lodged in my throat.
Almost without thinking, I blurted, “You don’t want to talk to my—our—father?”
Rebecca recoiled so hard she nearly knocked her coffee over. “Jesus, no. Fuck, no.” She scrubbed a hand over her face, her whole body going stiff. “I don’t want anything to do with CH2. I don’t even want to breathe the same air after what he did to my mom.”
Relief hit me so hard I sagged in my seat, the tension I’d been carrying since she’d walked in loosening a fraction. “Good,” I muttered.
She tilted her head, studying me with a skeptical look. “‘Good’? Or is that your way of hoarding CH2’s money for yourself?”
My stomach twisted. “So, youdowant money?” It killed me that my father could be right when he’d told me that.
She groaned, rolling her eyes so hard I thought they might pop out. “It was a joke, asshole.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “If you need help, I can give you money. Don’t ever go to him.”
“I don’t need money,” she said firmly. “Mom’s life insurance is covering college.” She squared her shoulders like she was daring me to argue.
“Still,” I muttered, “if you need?—”
“I. Don’t. Want. Your. Money.” Her voice cracked like a whip, final and fierce.
“Just… stay away from him,” I said, voice rough. I stared down into my coffee as if it had answers.
“You getting possessive over there? Don’t want to share Daddy?”
I fixed my stare on her. “Fuck no. He’s… not someone you want in your life.”
“Don’t worry,” she softened her tone. “I figured that out a long time ago. He was just a man with ambition and one night, he… they…” Rebecca cleared her throat, clearly overwhelmed. “… it wasn’t consensual.”
I almost rose out of my chair, ready to hunt down my asshole of a father and demand to know everything, but something kept me sitting, because Rebecca needed me to hear this.
“Fuck,” was all I offered.
“And you don’t have to believe any of this.” She tipped her chin. “I believe what my mom said.”
I leaned forward. “I believe her over anything my sperm donor says.”
“Really?”
