Page 30 of Broken Secrets
“What?”
“I think I’m falling for you. Like, really falling for you.”
“Derek…”
“I know it’s probably too soon to say stuff like that,” he says quickly. “I just wanted you to know.”
Instead of answering with words, I kiss him. His lips are warm and soft, and when his arms come around me, I feel safe. We’re hidden here under the bleachers, away from the chaos of school and family and all the complicated things waiting for us in the real world.
When we break apart, both of us are breathing harder.
“Saturday can’t come soon enough,”
“Tell me about it.” His thumb traces along my jawline, sending shivers down my spine despite the warm afternoon.
The bell rings in the distance, signaling the end of free period. We separate reluctantly, and he grabs his gloves from the concrete step.
“I should get to practice,” he says. “Coach gets cranky when we’re late.”
I watch him jog toward the field where his teammates are already gathering, then head toward the cafeteria.
The cafeteria is its usual chaos of competing conversations, clattering trays, and the indefinable smell of institutional food trying to masquerade as something edible. Maya and I claim our usual table by the windows, where we can watch the senior parking lot and judge people’s questionable vehicle choices.
“So,” she says, unwrapping a sandwich that looks suspiciously healthy, “you look happy. Good talk with Derek?”
“The best,” I say, unable to keep the smile off my face. “He asked me out for Saturday night. A real date.”
“Finally! Where’s he taking you?”
“The pier for dinner and sunset watching.”
Maya claps her hands together. “That’s so romantic! I’m so happy for you two.”
“Thanks. It feels good to have something normal to look forward to.” I stab my salad, “Something that’s not about family drama or medical appointments.”
“Speaking of family drama,” Maya says carefully, “how does it feel to have answers? About your heart, I mean.”
“Weird,” I admit. “Good weird, but still weird. Like, for eighteen years I’ve been this girl who doesn’t know anything about half her genetics, and now I know I have the same heart condition as my biological father.”
“That’s actually kind of amazing, though. In a twisted way.” Maya tears her sandwich into smaller pieces, a nervous habit she’s had since middle school. “Like, you have this concrete connection to him now.”
“I guess.”
“Have you thought about reaching out to him? Or Emma?”
“I don’t know. My mom would probably have a breakdown if I contacted them directly.”
“Okay, but what do you want? Forget about your mom’s feelings for a second. What does Olivia want?”
I push lettuce around my plate. “I want to know what Emma’s like. I want to know if she plays soccer too, or if she’s good at math, or if she inherited Dad’s—Jeremy’s—eyes like I did.” I pause. “I want to know if she knows about me.”
“So why don’t you find out?”
“Because what if she doesn’t want to know me? What if Jeremy built this perfect little family and I’m just a reminder of his mistakes?”
Maya reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “Or what if she’s been wondering about you too? What if they’ve both been wondering?”
I’ve spent so long assuming I was unwanted, unloved by my father’s side, that the idea of being wanted feels almost too dangerous to consider.
