Page 10 of Broken Secrets
“You think I should reach out? To him, I mean?”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “I think you deserve answers. And I think you’re brave enough to handle whatever those answers are, even if they’re not what you want to hear.”
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. It’s…” He shrugs. I hate that you're hurting.
The way he says it makes my heart skip. Maybe I haven’t been as alone as I thought.
“I should probably head home,” I say, but I don’t move. “Robert’s making dinner, and if I’m late, Mom will ask questions I’m not ready to answer.”
“Or you could stay,” he says quietly. “I was going to make grilled cheese anyway, and you look like you could use some comfort food.”
I should face Mom and Robert and pretend everything’s normal while I figure out what to do with this information. But Derek’s looking at me with those warm brown eyes, and his couch is soft, and for the first time all day, I feel like I can breathe.
“Grilled cheese sounds perfect,” I say.
He smiles, the kind of smile that reaches his eyes and makes something flutter in my chest.
“Good. Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”
As he disappears into the kitchen, I curl up on his couch and close my eyes. The sound of him moving around, opening cabinets and starting the stove, is comforting.
When he comes back with two perfectly golden sandwiches and a bag of chips, he doesn’t bombard me with questions or tell me what I should do next. He sits beside me, close enough our knees almost touch.
We eat in comfortable silence for a while, the stress of the day slowly melting away. Outside, the sun starts to sink lower in the sky, casting everything in golden light.
“So,” Derek says eventually, “tell me about this cardiologist thing. When’s the appointment?”
I shrug. “They said they’d call when the referral goes through. Could be next week, could be next month. I’m kind of dreading it.”
“Because of the tests, or because of the family history stuff?”
“Both. What if they find something really wrong? What if I need surgery or medication or…” I trail off, not wanting to voice my worst fears.
“What if they don’t find anything serious and you need to manage stress better?” he says.
“Maybe. But they specifically mentioned genetic conditions. Things that run in families.” I pick at my sandwich. “Hard to know what runs in my family when I only know half of it.”
He nods. “Have you thought about what you’ll do if your mom keeps stonewalling you about your dad’s medical stuff?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I could try to contact him directly, but that feels…” I pause, searching for the right word. “Huge. Like crossing a line.”
“What kind of line?”
“The line between wondering about him and actually disrupting his life. His family’s life. What if he doesn’t want to hear from me? What if I’m just some painful reminder of his past?”
He is quiet for a moment. “What if you’re not? He could be wondering about you to.”
“Then why hasn’t he tried to find me?”
“He probably has. Maybe your mom shut him down and out of respect he decided to stop to avoid more issues.
“You think she told him to stay away?”
“I think there’s probably a lot more to this story than either of us knows.” He leans back against the couch. “Speaking of complicated family stuff, my parents have been asking about college applications again.”
“How’s that going?”
