Chapter Twenty-Seven
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Lanie
T he moment Dylan’s car disappeared from view, the silence became almost unbearable. Mark’s mother sniffled against her husband’s chest, her grip on my hand tightening. Mark still hadn’t moved, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, his jaw locked tight enough to crack.
I had a choice to make.
I could walk away, just like I had in high school, let the sting of betrayal and humiliation dictate my next move. Or I could stand my ground and demand the truth.
The old me—the girl who used to believe in fairy tales and second chances—was buried somewhere beneath the scars, but damn it, she was still there. And she wanted to hear what Mark had to say.
Mark’s father was the first to break the silence. “Mark?” His voice was gruff but laced with worry. “What the hell is going on?”
Mark swallowed hard, his fingers threading through his hair as he exhaled sharply. “I-I don’t know.”
His mother wiped away her tears and walked over to Mark. “That man just said he’s your twin.” She searched his face. “We didn’t know. We would have told you that you were adopted if we thought you had a biological family. We were told you didn’t.”
Mark’s entire body stiffened. He looked away, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “It’s okay, Mom. I believe you.”
His mother gasped, covering her mouth with shaking fingers. “I’m so sorry.”
His father’s face paled and he walked over to Mark as well. “We believed the agency because... because we wanted to.”
Mark inhaled sharply, his eyes flashing with something dark. “I don’t know what to do with this information.”
His mother let out a broken sound. “You do whatever you have to and we’ll support you as we always have.”
When Mark answered, his voice was raw, “Does it matter if he exists? You saw him. You saw how he is.”
The silence that followed was deafening. His parents looked stricken, guilt and grief twisting their expressions. I made my way down the steps to join them. Part of me wanted to wrap my arms around Mark and tell him that everything would be okay, but everything he hadn’t told me held me back.
His father said, “You have a brother, Mark. That matters.”
Mark let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Does it have to? What if I don’t want to have been adopted? What if I want to go back to before I met Dylan when things fucking made sense?”
His mother reached for him, but he jerked away. “Mark, please—”
“No,” he snapped, his voice cracking. His tormented eyes burned into mine briefly. “I’m sorry. I need a moment to process all of this.”
His mother hugged him, but he was stiff in her embrace. She kept murmuring she was sorry and she loved him.
For a moment, he softened, “I love you too, Mom. This doesn’t change that, but I need... I need to think.” Then he gently pulled away from her, gave me one last look, and walked away, his strides long and determined. Not toward the house, but straight to his truck.
“Mark!” I called after him.
He turned, jaw tight, eyes dark. His hand twitched at his side, like he was debating saying something—asking for something. But he didn’t. Instead, he exhaled hard, eyes flashing to mine for the briefest second. Then he strode to his truck, yanked the door open, and climbed inside. When he pulled out of the driveway it was with the same angry urgency Dylan had.
His mother let out a half-sob and her husband gathered her close. My heart ached for them, for Mark, for all of them. My questions could wait. This was a lifetime of secrets crashing down all at once.
I needed to talk to him, to understand why he’d sent Dylan to see me, but also to make sure he was okay. But first—I needed to make sure his parents were okay.
Turning back to them, I met his father’s gaze. “He just needs time,” I murmured. “That was a lot.”
“Yeah,” his father said in a gutted tone.
His mother raised her head, her attention on the empty road where her son had disappeared. “We should have known,” she whispered. “We should have asked more questions.”
And I didn’t have the heart to tell her she was right.