Page 37 of Broken Secrets
I think about Mom downstairs, probably still crying, probably terrified that she’s about to lose the most important person in her life to the man who broke her heart eighteen years ago. I wish I could promise her that won’t happen, but I can’t. I don’t know where this journey with Emma and Jeremy will lead, or how it will change the family dynamics we’ve built over the years.
What I do know is that for the first time in my life, I don’t feel like I’m missing half of myself. I feel like I’m about to become whole in a way I never even knew was possible. And whether that terrifies or excites me more, I can’t say.
But I’m ready to find out.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The periodic tableblurs in front of me as Mrs. Patterson drones on about molecular bonding, her voice fading into background noise while my mind replays last night’s conversation with my mom and Robert. Emma’s words from Instagram keep cycling through my head:I’ve wanted a sister my whole life.The simple honesty of it makes my chest tight in a way that has nothing to do with my tricuspid regurgitation.
“Miss Kline, perhaps you’d like to share your thoughts on covalent bonding with the class?”
Mrs. Patterson’s sharp voice cuts through my mental fog, and I realize twenty-five pairs of eyes are staring at me. Heat crawls up my neck as I scramble for an answer to a question I didn’t hear.
“I… sorry, could you repeat the question?”
A few snickers ripple through the classroom. Mrs. Patterson’s expression suggests she’s not surprised by my inattention, but she’s not pleased about it either.
“The question was about electron sharing in covalent bonds. Page 127.”
I flip frantically through my textbook, but the words might as well be written in a foreign language. Derek, sitting two seatsover, slides his notebook toward me with the answer scrawled in his messy handwriting.
“Electrons are shared equally between atoms in a covalent bond,” I read, my voice steadier than I feel.
“Correct. Try to stay with us, Miss Kline.”
The bell rings mercifully, and I shove my books into my bag with more force than necessary. Derek appears at my elbow as students file out of the classroom.
“Rough night?” he asks, shouldering his backpack.
“You could say that.”
He steers me toward an alcove near the lockers, away from the flood of students rushing to second period. “Want to talk about it?”
I glance around to make sure no one’s listening, then lean closer. “Emma contacted me. My sister. She sent me a message on Instagram last night.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “What did she say?”
“That she’s known about me for over a year. That Jeremy talks about me. That she’s wanted to reach out.” The words tumble out in a rush. “Derek, she wants to meet me. They’re thinking about visiting California for spring break.”
His face breaks into a grin. “Liv, that’s amazing. How are you feeling? How did your mom take it?”
“Like you’d expect. Panic, tears, predictions of doom.” I adjust my backpack straps. “But she’s not going to stop me from talking to Emma. She can’t, really.”
“And how do you feel about potentially meeting them?”
The bell rings, signaling we have two minutes to get to class. Derek waits patiently for my answer, ignoring the stream of students rushing past us.
“Terrified. Excited. Like I might throw up.” I attempt a laugh. “Pretty much how I felt about the cardiologist appointment, actually.”
“That turned out okay.”
“This feels bigger.”
“Because it is bigger. But that doesn’t mean it won’t turn out okay too.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Whatever happens, you’re not dealing with this alone.”
The final bell rings, sending us scrambling toward our respective classrooms. As I slip into AP English just as Mrs. Devonne starts talking about character motivations in The Great Gatsby, I can’t help but think about the irony. Here we are, discussing Jay Gatsby’s obsession with recreating the past, while I’m sitting here trying to figure out how to build a future with people I’ve never known.
“Gatsby’s entire identity is built around a fantasy,” Mrs. Devonne says, pacing in front of the whiteboard. “He’s created this elaborate fiction about who he is and what he wants, all to recapture something that may never have been real to begin with.”
