Page 114 of Lily In The Valley
“He did, but not fully. He’s been carrying your shadow all his life.”
She was silent, then whispered,” I didn’t think I deserved to be his mother anymore.”
“That’s not your choice.” I looked over at a still sleeping Kahlia. “I have to tell him. He deserves to know.”
Toya nodded slowly. “I’m guessing he’ll want to come here. Meet me.” I nodded. She looked at her daughter. “I figured. He’s my twin, but his daddy’s son all the same.”
“I need you not to run.”
She looked up at me, steady, through the tears held in her eyes.
“I won’t.”
It tookme two days to pick up the phone. Not because I was unsure. But because I knew once I did, nothing between uswould ever sit in the same place again. Every time I hovered over his name in my phone, I thought of the last time I saw him. The softness in his voice when he said he was proud of me, the quiet ache in his eyes when we pulled apart before anything dangerous could happen.
He was doing the work. Trying to be whole. Trying not to need me.
And here I was, about to unearth the part of him he’d buried deeper than either of us knew.
I sat on the edge of my bed, fresh out the shower, hair covered in deep conditioner in four big twists, phone clutched in my hand like it weighed more than it should. Karter sat beside me, head tilted, sensing the shift in my breath. I ran my fingers through his fur, more to ground myself than comfort him. I took a breath and hit “Call.” It rang twice before he answered.
“Hey.” His voice caught me off guard. It did something to me I hadn’t quite figured out how to turn off.
“Hey,” I said, trying to keep my tone steady.
“You good?” he asked.
I exhaled. “I’m not calling to start anything.”
“I didn’t think you were.” My mouth opened, but the words clung to the back of my throat. “Lily-girl, you didn’t call just to hear me breathe, did you?”
“I found your mother.” It came out quick, quicker than I expected. “Khalil,” I said softly. “She’s here. In Seattle.”
Still, no sound on the line. Just his breathing, shallow, too careful.
“She came in with her daughter. Kahlia. Ten years old. Respiratory issues.”
When he finally spoke, his voice was dust.
“How do you know?”
“She told me. After I told her who I was. She didn’t know at first. But when she realized... it was like her whole body remembered you. She looks just like you.”
Another pause.
“What did she say?”
“That she wasn’t ready to be found. That she thought she didn’t deserve you.”
His breath shook. I heard it.
“I told her I was going to tell you. I told her not to run.”
“Is she—” His voice cracked. “Is she still there?”
“She is.”
I didn’t say more. Didn’t have to. After a long silence, he asked the only question that mattered.
