30. Alessandra
CHAPTER THIRTY
alessandra
Instant relief.
That’s the only sensation to describe finding Booth on the cabin porch.
There was no smugness or wisecrack.
His arrival is a balm to my soul.
Warm , comforting, and familiar.
Weeks ago, he was everywhere I didn’t want him to be.
Now he’s exactly where I need him.
A revelation I wasn’t prepared for.
He removes his beanie and coat, shakes out his hair, and toes off his boots.
It’s then I notice the brown paper bag at his feet.
“I’m gonna make us some dinner.” I don’t utter a word as he strolls toward the kitchen before calling over his shoulder.
“ Get the table set, beautiful. Then when we’re done, you can decide what we talk about or I can leave. Whatever you want, but I’m feeding you before anything.”
His tone is final, face serious, and it’s only when goose bumps tickle my arms that I see the door is still wide open.
“C’mon, Silver ,” he hollers, propelling me into action.
With the cold sealed out and table set, I watch him go through the motions as I sit on the kitchen counter.
Something smoky and sweet fills the air, tickling my nose.
The grumble of my stomach is a reminder I haven’t eaten since this morning.
Booth doesn’t demand an explanation about why I disappeared.
He doesn’t ask why I was with Martin .
Instead , he glances at me, knife pausing mid-chop as he smiles.
I’ve never been an overly emotional person.
But the crinkling of his eyes and those goddamn dimples make me want to burst into tears with gratitude.
Twenty minutes later, he drops two bowls on the table, ushers me to sit, and drags our chairs so close together I’m practically sitting in his lap.
He nudges me with his elbow and winks.
“ It’s a smoky sweet potato chili. Eat or you’ll offend me.”
So I eat.
When we’re done, he leads me to the sofa, drapes the fur blanket over my shoulders, and feeds the fire.
My poor, confused heart can’t understand why he’s taking care of me.
Still , he doesn’t ask questions, just pulls me into his safe, strong arms.
We startle when that hideous cuckoo clock whistles behind us.
It jump-starts my vocal chords, because when I open my mouth, I don’t stop.
“I’m adopted.”
He doesn’t react to my outburst.
“I’ve always known. It was never a secret. My parents—adoptive parents, but I’ve never called them that—brought me home when I was four days old. My brothers are their biological children, but my mom had an emergency hysterectomy after a complicated birth with my second brother. The fact I look nothing like them would have clued me in, but when I was old enough, they sat me down and explained what adoption was, and while I hadn’t become theirs the same way my brothers had, it changed nothing.” I tuck a wayward curl behind my ear and take a deep breath before continuing.
“I want to preface this by saying I’ve never once felt like I didn’t belong. Love , security, and happiness are all I’ve known, childhood through to adulthood. It’s cliché, but the idea of turning thirty and not knowing about my beginning triggered something. Who were my birth parents? Why did they put me up for adoption? Where are they now? I’ve never resented them, I just grew curious. Outside of that, simply having a gap in my medical history started to worry me.” I take a gulp of air.
“ It was an open adoption, but when I turned six, my birth mom asked my parents to stop sending photos and updates. We never found out why.”
The steady beating of Booth’s heart against my back encourages me.
“When I was twenty-eight, I started looking for answers. It took me six months to build up the courage to request my adoption records. All I knew about my mom was that she was sixteen when she had me and didn’t know how to raise a baby.”
Booth shifts me until my legs lie sideways over his, my head resting on his shoulder.
“ And your birth father?” he asks cautiously.
My shoulders lift. “ He wasn’t listed on the original birth certificate.”
His arm twitches from where it’s banded over my stomach.
“But I had my birth mother’s name. I contacted the adoption agency and asked them to reach out to her—to see if she’d be willing to meet. When I heard nothing for weeks, I figured she wasn’t interested. Then , after almost two months, they contacted me. She still lived in New York . How insane is that? She was one hour away that entire time.” My laughter is flat, and Booth senses the mood change.
“ We arranged to meet in the city. Three hours I waited in the restaurant for her,” I whisper, voice wobbly .
“Aly,” Booth breathes against my neck and squeezes me tighter.
“It took her two days to email me and explain it was a mistake. That’s all it said, ‘ This was a mistake. I’m sorry.’ For the first time in my life, I felt like I didn’t belong, and I hated myself for it. She owed me nothing, yet I arrived at our meeting spot with my hopes held tightly to my chest. I wasn’t looking to fill a void, but after that day, I think I lost a little piece of myself. Maybe she saw me through the window and decided I wasn’t worth the trouble.”
A rough hand cups my cheek until blue eyes gaze down at me.
“ You’re worth everything.”
My heart can’t cope.
Not with his words, his sincere expression, or the way his lips caress mine.
There’s nothing romantic or sexual about it.
Wordlessly he tells me he’s here.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get the outcome you’d hoped for. I can’t speak on her behalf, but I can say with confidence that she’s missing out on getting to know an amazing woman.” He pecks me on the nose before settling us against the cushions.
“It still left me questioning the identity of my birth father. I couldn’t ask her and you’d think I would have learned my lesson.” Craning my neck to face him, I give him a knowing look.
“ You know as well as I do, I don’t give up easily.”
His soft chuckle tickles my face.
“My brother suggested I try one of those genetic testing sites. My expectations were pretty low at this point. When the results came back, I wasn’t sure how to feel when I found out I had relatives in a small fishing town in New England ,” I say matter-of-factly.
Five minutes I was in Martin’s living room before the fear of being rejected again became unbearable.
When I twist in Booth’s hold, he isn’t stunned.
His expression is neutral, almost prepared.
“You knew?” I whisper .
Apology is written across his face.
“ I had suspicions.” He intercepts my question.
“ Just small things. The way you’d act around Martin , the questions you asked him, and then…”
“My eyes,” I finish.
He nods. “ They’re identical.”
Groaning, I rest my head on his chest. “ I royally freaked out. The poor man was making us coffee. He probably came back and thought I’d disappeared into thin air. I felt ready to face him, but as each second ticked by and I was alone, my mind replayed those hours in the restaurant.”
Sturdy fingers weave into my hair, coaxing my head to tilt up.
“ Hey , it’s going to be okay. He was a little…confused, but when he called, he was worried more than anything. Worried about you.”
My lips twist. “ Do you think he knows?”
Booth sucks in a breath.
“ I think he suspects something…”
“God, I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Be upfront. Martin’s a good guy. He won’t turn his daughter away, especially one he never knew existed.”
I rear back.
“ Sorry , what?”
His confused expression mirrors mine.
“ You think he always knew?”
“No, that I’m his daughter.” Wiggling out of his hold, I massage my temples.
“ Booth , Martin isn’t my birth father. He’s my paternal grandfather.”
His brows jump to his hairline.
“ Wow , okay. I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Yeah, it’s a head fuck. There were two hits on the ancestry search. Martin’s was the only name listed alongside an unnamed male, who I presumed was his son. I tracked down birth and marriage certificates. At the time I was born, his son would have also been sixteen. His name is Harvey . There wasn’t much else about him after graduation, so I started researching the town he was born in. ”
Like a penny in a well, I see the moment it sinks in.
“ That’s why you’re here.”
I jerk my head once.
“ At the time, it seemed smart. I gained access to my inheritance when I turned thirty, and the first thing I spent it on was a?—”
“Restaurant,” he interrupts, dumbfounded.
“ Shit , Aly , I gave you such a hard time about being here. I’m sorry.”
I can’t help it, I laugh.
“ And so you should have. I bit off more than I could chew, but I’m also not the type of person to commit to something and then drop it. You and your family deserved more than that. In my head, I needed an excuse to be here so I could scope out the town and people before revealing my identity. I didn’t think it would take me this long to do it.”
He mulls over the information I’ve dumped on him.
He’s not angry or accusatory, but the longer he stays silent, the antsier I become.
“ Can you say something? You’re never quiet for this long. Tell me what I should do.”
My yelp of surprise bounces off the walls when he abruptly stands, holding me bridal style.
“ I say bed.”
“What?” I huff as I hook my arm around his neck.
His gait is steady as he strides toward the bed.
“ Sleep . You don’t need to decide tonight, and you’re tired. Plus , we both know you never listen to me, anyway. Tomorrow , we can come up with a plan.”
“We?”
He chuckles, and smooths away the divot on my forehead.
“ Yeah , Aly . We . It sounds like you’ve been facing this alone for long enough.”
With the gentlest of care, he lays me down on the bed and stretches out beside me.
I’ve always felt loved and accepted by my parents.
The blood we share is irrelevant.
But there’s a small chapter missing in my story.
They couldn’t understand my need to find those missing pages, even after the disappointment with my birth mother.
Of all the sweet things he’s said to me recently, his next words take the cake.
“You’re the most driven person I’ve ever met. Sometimes , though”—he sweeps my hair off my face and stares at me fondly—“it’s okay to let others take the wheel. Let me take the driver’s seat for a while. And when you’re ready, I’ll be right by your side when you want to take over again.”
With him, I’m understood.
He challenges me without questioning my character.
My temper doesn’t faze him; it fuels him.
He’s matched me every step of the way.
As blue meets silver, it dawns on me.
Booth doesn’t just stare at me; he sees me.
So I take my foot off the pedal and relax into his embrace.
I don’t trust easily, but with him, I could.
Maybe I already am. Before I drift to sleep, I imagine it’s easy to do a lot of things with Booth .