Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Melissa drums her fingers on her legs. “Most people are terrible singers.”
“His sister’s name was Samantha.”
“Your mom’s name was Lauren.”
I relinquish a slow nod. “Her middle name was Samantha.”
“That’s—”
“Stop,” I say. “Just stop trying to pretend it’s impossible or highly improbable when the truth is . . .” Swallowing hard, I look around the room. “I don’t know the truth. And I don’t know why my mom would have lied to me—no. Not just lied to me. It’s possible she made up a whole new story. And she changed her name. That makes no sense. But it also doesn’t make sense that everything Dwight said is just a coincidence. He knows virtually nothing about me, so he wasn’t intentionally doing it to freak me out. Which only leaves one logical explanation.”
“Nothing about this is logical, Jamie.”
“Was she so embarrassed that her brother did something so awful that she wanted to completely cut herself off from him and the rest of the family, if there was other family? And what about my dad? Did he know? I would have been . . .” I try to remember how long Dwight has been in the psych ward. “I would have been two? Three? And my dad died when I was five.”
“What do you remember about your dad?”
I shrug. “He worked for NASA. And after he died, my mom moved us to Miami.”
“You remember that?”
“No. She told me that.”
“I don’t know, Jamie. Maybe you should show him a picture of your mom.”
I don’t relish the idea of sharing any personal information with him for many reasons. I just never thought one reason would be that I’m possibly related to him.
“What if he recognizes the picture?”
Pressing her lips together, Melissa’s eyes widen until she blows a lengthy breath out her nose in a whoosh. “I don’t know. Does he have family? Maybe you could get something from them.”
“No one’s ever met any of his family.”
“Shit.”
“The only person who knows the truth is mentally unwell. Confused. And often delusional.”
“What is his full name? I’m going to see what I can find on him.”
“I feel like I’ve already said too much. I’m going to get fired.”
“Yeah, Jamie. You should be more concerned about your job than knowing who your mom was.”
I pick at a stray feather from one of my pillows. “Dwight Keane. A bear killed his wife. He chased the bear but lost the hunt. Until . . . he burned down thirty-two thousand acres of wildland to avenge her death.”
“That’s . . .” Her nose wrinkles.
“Tragic.”
She nods.
My phone vibrates.
Fitz: I’m here. Are u able to open the doors for me? Or can Melissa do it?
“Oh my god. No!” I show my screen to Melissa.
She smiles. “I knew he’d do the right thing.”
“What? No! He can’t see me like this. Please don’t let him in. I’m begging you.” Before I finish my desperate plea, she’s pressing the button to let him into the building.
“You’re not that vain. I’m sure he’s seen worse.”
I want to cry. It’s not vanity. I’m not worried about not wearing makeup or having a stain on my shirt. My nose is broken. I have two black eyes, and one is swollen shut. I’m nearly unrecognizable in the worst way.
Melissa opens my apartment door, and I throw a blanket over my body.
“Hey, you didn’t have to come, but I’m sure Jamie is thrilled to see you.”
She’s a liar. We are no longer friends.
“Hi, where is—” Fitz stops midsentence.
It’s quiet.
It’s hard to breathe because he’s here. Because I have a broken nose. Because I have a blanket over my head. If I die, so be it.
“Yeah, um . . .” Melissa hums. “I might run a few errands since you’re here now. Bye, Jamie. See you after a while.”
I don’t respond. Maybe Fitz will leave, too, even though I’m dying to see him. Unfortunately, my desire not to be seen is more intense, so I stay hidden.
The door clicks shut.
It’s eerily quiet except for the air exchange.
“I should have been here sooner, but Melissa messaged me right after I jumped. And I didn’t have a good signal.”
I don’t respond.
“Who did this to you? Melissa said it was an accident.”
“Fitz, I know you took time off and bought a plane ticket to come see me. If I reimburse you, will you turn around and go home?”
“No.”
I deflate. Tears burn my eyes when I didn’t think my face could hurt more. “Fitz,” I murmur, “my neighbor’s boyfriend tried to take her out with a baseball bat, and I passed their door as she was running from him. She tripped, and he missed her and hit me. I look like a boxer who went twenty rounds.”
“Jaymes, boxing doesn’t go twenty rounds.” The edge of my bed dips.
“Please go.”
His hand slides under the blanket and rests on my foot. The first tear breaks free.