Chapter Three
After school, I sit in my car in the parking lot for a long time, engine off, watching everyone else drive away to their normal lives. Derek’s words from lunch keep echoing in my head: “I think you should do whatever feels right for you.”
But what feels right? Pretending I never found Jeremy’s website? Going home and acting like everything’s fine while Mom avoids talking about my father and I wait for a cardiologist appointment that might not even help without his medical history?
My phone buzzes with a text from Derek:
Derek
How are you holding up after our lunch talk?
I stare at his message, then type back.
Me
Can I come over? I keep thinking about what you said, and I don’t want to go home yet.
DEREK
Of course. See you soon.
I sit in my car for a moment after reading his response, phone warm in my hands.
It’s strange how easy it is to talk to Derek about all this when I can barely say my father’s name out loud to my own mother.
Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have eighteen years of secrets weighing down every conversation.
He actually listens instead of deflecting unlike my mom and Robert.
Something bigger than just a failed relationship. You don’t cut someone out so completely, without a reason running deeper than hurt feelings.
If Jeremy did something truly awful, why would he seem so normal on his business website? Why would he have glowing reviews from customers calling him “reliable” and “trustworthy”? Why would he flash a disingenuous smile for the family photos if he had a sinister secret to conceal?
Maybe Mom cut him out because she could. Because she was the one with the baby, the one with the power to decide what story I grew up believing. I wonder if Jeremy tried to stay in touch and she shut him down. Or if he gave up on me because she made it too hard.
Derek’s house comes into view. Out front it has a well-maintained garden and a basketball hoop in the driveway. It looks like the kind of place where families have Sunday barbecues and kids grow up feeling safe and wanted.
The kind of place I might have had if things had been different.
He opens the door before I can knock like he’s been watching for my car.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he says, stepping aside to let me in.
“Close.” I sink onto his couch, pulling my knees up to my chest.
“It’s been eating at you all afternoon, hasn’t it?”
I nod, pulling out my phone to show him the screenshot again. “I keep staring at this photo. At how perfect they all look together.”
He takes my phone, studying the image more carefully than he did at lunch. “She really does look like you. Same eyes, same facial structure.”
“That’s what makes it worse,” I say. “Seeing myself in her face. Knowing that’s what I could have looked like in a family photo if things had been different.”
“Shit,” he says finally. “I’m sorry, Liv.”
“The worst part is how happy they look.” I stare at the screen. “Like a perfect little family. Complete without the daughter he abandoned in California.”
“You don’t know he abandoned you,” Derek says gently. “Maybe your mom left. Maybe there’s more to the story.”
“Then why won’t she tell me what it is?”
“I don’t know. But…” He hands my phone back. “This doesn’t change who you are. You’re still you, whether he’s in Michigan with another family or on Mars.”
I want to believe him. But seeing Emma’s face, seeing how she fits so perfectly in the family photo, makes me feel like I’m staring at the life I should have had.
“I keep wondering what she’s like,” I admit. “Emma. Does she play soccer? Is she good at math? Does she know about me?”
“Maybe someday you’ll be able to ask her.”
Someday. Like it’s possible instead of a fantasy.
“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?”
“Terribly. I keep starting essays and then deleting them.” He runs a hand through his hair. “They all want to know about my goals and passions and where I see myself in ten years. How am I supposed to know that?”
“What do you want to study?”
“I don’t know. I like a lot of things, but nothing feels like… the thing, you know? Like the thing I’m supposed to do with my life.”
“Maybe you don’t have to know yet. It’s okay to go in undecided.”
“Easy for you to say. You’ve known you wanted to play college soccer since freshman year.”
“I mean, I’m good at soccer, but is it what I want to do? Or is it what I’m expected to do because I’m good at it?”
He is quiet for a moment and shrugs.
“So, um, there’s something I wanted to ask you. About winter formal.”
“What about it?”
“I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask someone, but…” He fidgets with the hem of his shirt. “I keep chickening out.”
My phone buzzes on the coffee table, I pick it up to see a message from Robert.
Robert
Where are you? Dinner’s ready and your mom’s asking questions.
“I should probably head home,” I say, but I don’t move to get up.
“You sure? You seem more relaxed than when you got here.”
He’s right. For the first time in a while, I feel like I can think clearly.
“Thanks,” I say as he walks me to the door. “For listening. For the grilled cheese. For not making me feel crazy.”
“You’re not crazy,” he says, turning to face me. “You’re dealing with something really hard, and you’re handling it better than most people would.”
“I don’t feel like I’m handling it well.”
“Trust me, you are.” He reaches over and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, and the gesture is so gentle it makes my heart skip. “You’re one of the strongest people I know, Olivia Kline.”
The way he says my full name makes something flutter in my chest. Like maybe it’s not such a terrible name after all. Like maybe I can make it mean something good, regardless of where it came from.
“I should head in,” I say, but I don’t move.
“Want me to pick you up for school tomorrow? Save you from having to drive when you’re running on no sleep?”
The offer catches me off guard. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to.” His eyes are serious, almost nervous. “If you want me to, I mean.”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “I’d like that.”
“See you then,”
“Perfect.”
I’m halfway to the front door when he calls out, “Hey, Liv?”
I turn back.
“Whatever you decide to do about Jeremy, whether you reach out or not, you’re not alone in this, okay?”
“Thank you, that means a lot.”