Chapter Thirty-Four Charlotte
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHARLOTTE
Smitten
T HE WEEKEND ARRIVES FASTER THAN I ANTICIPATE, WHICH IS BOTH A blessing and a curse. The former because it means I don’t need to toil away in the lab until midnight; I have no experiments to monitor, only final write-ups to complete. The latter because that means we’re one day closer to the end of the semester, and I’m not fully prepared for my midyear capstone review. I can’t wait for the holiday break. I need to clear my brain of all the information I’ve crammed into it this semester. All the stress. All the conflicting thoughts about the two hockey players I’m banging on the nightly.
On Saturday afternoon, my Little talks me into going to a football game, and since Harrison is visiting this weekend, he’s tagging along. It’s the first time I’ve introduced him as “my brother” to anyone, and doing it brings a rush of warmth to my heart.
The stadium is packed, and the air is electric as we find our seats. This is one of the rare years that Briar has made the playoffs, so the fans are buzzing with excitement. We’re all bundled up because it’s bitterly cold for December, and Harrison offers to get us some hot chocolate from concessions.
As he makes his way down our row toward the aisle, I sit on my gloved hands to warm them up with my butt heat. “I can’t believe you’re at a game rooting for Isaac,” I say, grinning at Blake.
“I decided to throw him a bone.”
Ha. Yeah right. I see through the noncommittal response. It’s so obvious she’s into the big, cocky oaf. She can pretend to be unbothered all she wants, but I don’t miss the way she’s scanning the field for any sign of him.
“Can we just admit we like him already?”
“He’s okay.” I see the formation of a smile before she turns her head.
“Are you always like this?”
“Like what?” Blake asks.
“In denial.”
She glares at me.
Isaac must have arranged for these seats, because we’re right by the Briar home bench. I predict a lot of googly eyes being made between Blake and the football player she claims is just “okay” despite the fact that she’s been on a dozen dates with the guy.
Harrison returns holding a cardboard tray with three foam cups with white lids.
“You are a lifesaver,” I tell him, gratefully accepting the cup he hands me.
“Thank you,” Blake says, smiling at him.
He retakes his seat, his gaze drifting toward the field. The players haven’t come out of the tunnel yet, but the home and away benches are crawling with staff members and assistants.
“I haven’t been to a football game in years,” Harrison says, popping the lid of his cup. He got himself a coffee rather than hot chocolate, the telltale aroma wafting toward me. “Probably not since I was a teenager.”
“Do you play any sports, Harrison?” Blake asks. The tip of her nose is red as she sips her hot drink.
“Nope,” he says wryly. “I was the video game kid. My friends and I could go days without leaving our houses or seeing each other. We’d just get online and talk over our headsets for hours on end.”
Blake’s phone vibrates. She checks the screen, then rises from her seat. “Do you mind holding on to this?” she asks me, lifting her hot chocolate. “I’m just going to call my mom back before the game starts. I’ll be right back.”
I take the cup from her, then give her room to squeeze past us toward the aisle. The moment Blake is gone, I feel the waves of tension radiating off Harrison.
“So,” he says, giving me a sidelong look, “have you told them yet?”
I pretend not to know what he means. “Told who what?”
“Your adoptive parents. Have you told them about me yet?”
My parents. Not adoptive. I hate that he always adds that caveat.
A knot forms in my stomach, the guilt churning inside me. “No. Not yet.”
His expression darkens. “I don’t get it, Hae. Why not?”
That’s another thing he’s started doing in the last little while. Referring to me as Hae-Won or Hae. It was sweet the first time he did it, bringing a lump of emotion to my throat, but lately it’s been feeling more…hostile. As if he’s constantly trying to remind me that my roots didn’t originate with my family. That I’m someone different, someone they don’t know.
But whether intended or not, him using my Korean name only makes me feel more alienated. Not white, not Korean. Different from them, different from him.
Finding my biological relatives was supposed to help me discover a missing piece of my identity, not splinter it even further.
“Why haven’t you told them?” Harrison pushes.
“Because…” I struggle to find the words. “Because I’m not ready. I’m afraid of how they’ll react. I don’t want them to think they aren’t enough for me. That I’m trying to replace them or something.”
His jaw clenches. “So you’re just going to keep me a secret from them forever?”
“Of course not,” I protest, reaching out to touch his arm. But he pulls away.
“You sure about that?” His voice is sharp and full of hurt. “Because it’s sort of starting to feel like I’m just some stranger you’re embarrassed to tell them about.”
“No. Not at all!” My voice rises with desperation. “It’s not that, I promise. I just don’t know how to balance this. I’m still trying to figure it out.”
“I’m your brother.” He sounds sad now. “Your blood. That means something. Or at least it should.”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back, refusing to cry in front of him, in front of all these people.
“Of course it means something,” I say, my voice trembling. “But they’re my family too. They’ve been there for me my whole life, and I’m going to navigate this situation in a way that feels right for me.”
Harrison shakes his head, his expression full of disappointment.
Relief slams into me when I see Blake returning down the aisle. Thank God. This was getting way too intense for my comfort.
I get it. I know why he’s upset. But he’s rushing me, and I don’t like to be rushed. I’m not ready to have that conversation with my parents. I’m not ready to know if they deliberately chose to adopt me and not Harrison. Fine, maybe I’m stalling. Or maybe I genuinely need the time to process this new relationship, this unfamiliar tie, before I open the door and let the rest of my family in. Either way, I feel like he’s forcing me to make a choice between the only family I’ve ever known and the brother I just found, and it’s unfair of him to do that.
“Are you okay?” Blake asks, studying my face.
“All good.” I’m a pro at faking smiles, and the skill doesn’t leave me today.
I must convince her, because she sits down and takes the cup I hand her without pushing the issue.
“How’s your mom—”
My voice is drowned out by the sound of the stadium announcer bellowing over the loudspeakers, signaling that the game is about to start.
The Briar players burst out of the tunnel in a blur of black and silver. Our quarterback is usually the one who runs through the paper banner, but today the entire team bypasses it, leaving it intact. Instead, the players throw their arms high over their heads to get the fans going. The crowd lets out a roar, and the hum of excitement pulsing in the stadium makes it feel like it’s a living, breathing entity.
As the rest of the team jogs onto the field, followed by their opponents, the announcer’s voice once again reverberates in the air.
“Ladies and gents, boys and girls, we have a special announcement before the game begins,” he booms. “One of our players has something he’d like to say.”
I feel Blake stiffen beside me.
“Oh no,” she moans, already sensing where this is headed.
Seven strapping Briar players start to line up on the field. Each one holds a big, white plaster board.
Blake turns to me, wide-eyed. “He wouldn’t, would he?”
A grin nearly cracks my face in half. “Have you met him?”
“No. Noooo. Make it stop.”
“Sorry, Logan. You did this to yourself.”
The first player, a behemoth linesman with a shiny, shaved head, holds up a sign that reads “ I .”
“Oh my God,” I say. “This is the greatest thing ever.”
“No, it’s not,” Blake hisses, while Harrison chuckles on my other side.
“Is this the boyfriend?” he asks, his sour mood seeming to fade courtesy of the spectacle below.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she replies through gritted teeth.
The next player’s sign says “ AM .”
Blake sinks lower into her seat.
“ SMITTEN ,” reads the third sign, followed by “ WITH ” and “ YOU ,” until the players are all holding signs that spell out:
I AM SMITTEN WITH YOU, BLAKE LOGAN
Isaac Grant then comes bursting through the paper Briar U banner like he’s breaking the finish line tape in the Olympics. He jogs up to the deafening screams of the crowd and stands in front of the poster-holding teammates.
Then he points directly at Blake and shouts, “I’m smitten, angel!”
The fans explode into cheers and whistles, while Blake’s cheeks turn a deeper shade of crimson. She buries her face in her hands, mortified.
“This guy is insane,” she mutters.
“Yeah, but also kind of romantic,” I admit, despite myself. “Like, in a ridiculous, over-the-top, completely unnecessary way.”
Blake peeks out from between her fingers, clearly torn between being touched and wanting to crawl under a rock. “Is he gone?”
“Yup.”
She raises her head, then glares at me when she realizes Isaac is still standing there, his eyes locked on her.
With a sigh, she gives him a little wave, and his entire face lights up. The boy is smitten all right.
I don’t miss the jealous scowls from every female in our vicinity. “Uh-oh, the claws are coming out,” I tease her. “As in you’re in grave danger from the members of the Isaac Grant fan club.”
“They can have him,” she mutters. “I don’t like attention.”
“Well, get used to it.” I pat her on the back.
“Nope. It had better not become a regular thing. I don’t know if I can handle this level of public humiliation on a weekly basis.”
I laugh, despite the lingering doubt in the back of my mind about Isaac’s sincerity toward Blake. The love bombing is a red flag, for one. And yes, Isaac is good-looking, charming, and clearly willing to go to great lengths to impress her, but I can’t help but wonder if it’s all just for show. Grand gestures are nice, but they don’t always mean what we want them to mean.
Beside me, Harrison’s expression has sobered again. I don’t want him to feel like he’s my shameful secret. Ironically, the reason I haven’t told my parents about him has nothing to do with him. It’s my shit. My fear about upsetting them.
Instead, I’m only upsetting Harrison. The tension between us is back, and I don’t know how to defuse it.
I call Ava when I get home from the game. Not just any call—a video call. It’s something my sister and I rarely do, so I’m not surprised when she greets me with a deep furrow of concern in her brow.
“Hey,” she says warily. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I answer. “But also not really.”
That gets me a wry smile. “What’s going on?”
I lie back against the headboard, knees up. Resting my phone on one knee, I reach for the stuffed bunny on my pillow and pull him toward me. Tiger. Tokki.
God, even my childhood bunny has a double life.
“Charlotte?” Ava pushes.
“I…uh…did something.”
“Oh shit. Are you pregnant?”
“No, nothing like that.”
I take a deep breath, the words sticking like glue to my throat. But I can’t keep this to myself any longer.
On an exhale, I blurt out, “I have a biological brother.”
Her gray-blue eyes widen. “What?”
“I signed up for one of those ancestry sites and sent in my DNA. The results came back telling me I have a biological brother.”
“When did you do this?”
“A couple months ago,” I admit, ignoring the pang of guilt that tugs at me. “And…I met him.”
“What? How? He’s not in Korea? Or did he travel to see you?”
“No, he was adopted by an American family too. He lives in Las Vegas.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know.” My voice breaks. “I didn’t know how to, and I didn’t want to upset anyone. I thought Mom and Dad might feel…betrayed, I guess? And I wanted to get to know him on my own time, without feeling pressured to introduce him to you guys or have any heavy conversations about it.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “I get that. It’s a lot to process, huh?”
“ So much to process. And he had it really hard growing up. His mother died not long after he was adopted, and he was stuck with his father, who I think abused him.”
Ava gasps. “Fuck. Really?”
“He has cigarette burns on his arms, and every time I bring up his dad, he goes quiet. Gets a tortured look on his face.” I bite my lip. “I keep thinking…why didn’t they take both of us?”
“Who?”
“Mom and Dad. Why did they only adopt me and leave Harrison behind?”
Her face falls, and I can see the discomfort settling in. “Charlotte. You can’t blame them for that. They probably didn’t know.”
“I can’t imagine the orphanage not telling them I had a sibling. Seems wildly irresponsible not to.” I hesitate. “What if they did know and chose not to take him? They could have spared him the childhood he had. But they didn’t, and now he’s angry and hurt, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
Ava’s expression hardens. “It’s not your place to fix anything. And it’s not fair to blame Mom and Dad for this guy’s childhood. They aren’t responsible for the life he had. They’re responsible for you. They love you .”
Anger rises in my chest, perhaps misplaced, maybe a bit irrational, but I can’t hold back the hot, burning feeling.
“You don’t get it. You have no idea what it’s like to be Harrison. To feel unwanted. You’re their real daughter. You never had to wonder if you were enough for them. If you belonged with them.”
She flinches as if I’d slapped her. She looks shocked. “Is that how you really feel? That you don’t belong in our family?”
I open my mouth to respond, but the words won’t come. I hadn’t meant to say it like that, to snap at her, and the devastated look on Ava’s face causes my chest to tighten with regret.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, suddenly feeling exposed, like I’ve ripped open an old wound and can’t close it back up. I inhale slowly. “Can we talk about this later? Maybe just let it percolate for a bit and revisit it?”
“No. Let’s talk about it now.”
“Please, Ava. Let’s drop it. I called to tell you about Harrison, not to talk about my own adoption.”
Her eyes search mine. “Char, you’re my little sister. My real sister. That’s never been in question. Not for me, not for Mom and Dad. You’ve always been enough.”
Her assurances don’t comfort me the way I want them to. Instead, they just make the guilt heavier. I can’t meet her gaze any longer.
“Can you keep this Harrison thing to yourself for now?” I ask. “I’m not ready to tell Mom and Dad yet, and I want to be the one to do it.”
“Of course. I won’t say a word. But—”
“I have to go. Talk later.”
“Char, wait—” she protests, but I’m already pressing End Call.
I stare at my phone, the tension in my chest growing with each passing second. I feel raw. Like I’m teetering on the edge of something I can’t control.
I need to clear my head. Do something. Anything. Just anything that will make me forget about that uncomfortable exchange.
I should have never opened my mouth.
I text Dante, who says it’s cool to stop by the track, then grab my purse and jacket. I’m heading for the door just as my phone rings, and I brace myself, expecting to see Ava calling me back. Fortunately, it’s Beckett.
I greet him with a tired “Hey.”
“Hey, sugar puff. Where are you?”
“Home. Why?”
“You were supposed to come by tonight. After dinner with your brother?”
“Oh fuck, I’m sorry. I totally forgot. It’s been a night.”
“What happened?”
“I got into a thing with my sister. Got into a fight with Harrison earlier. Can I call you tomorrow? I’m on my way out.”
His voice sharpens. “It’s eleven at night. Where are you going?”
“Out,” I say, trying to keep my own voice casual. “Just need to blow off some steam.”
“Where?” he repeats, suspicious.
I sigh, because I know he won’t let it go. “Do you want to come with me?”
“Yup.”
“Fine. I’ll pick you up in twenty.”