I miss Flynn. I miss her smart mouth and I miss when her mouth was focused on other areas. I think about her constantly, even when I shouldn’t—especially when I shouldn’t. I’ve almost called her countless times, but I remember why I can’t.
I have to protect her. Miranda is relentless and she’ll not only ruin my life, but Flynn’s as well and she doesn’t need the unnecessary drama. She doesn’t need the spotlight on her as a person who slept with her therapist.
I climb into my car and head home to drown my sorrows from this shitty fucking day.
I’m useless for the next several days as I’m lost in a haze of booze and depression. I always take time off work around this time of year. I’m no good to help anyone in my current state anyway.
The anniversary of her death is the hardest. This day, her birthday, and the holidays are like a straight knife to the heart and every time I do my damnedest to numb myself to the pain.
Miranda continues to hound me, calling me daily and driving me fucking crazy. It’s no wonder I can’t stop drinking.
I head into my kitchen to refill my glass despite it being the middle of the day. As I sit down on the couch, my phone vibrates again. I’m half tempted to answer the call, if only to ream Miranda, but it’s not her this time.
I do a double take, ensuring my mind isn’t playing tricks on me, but it’s not. The phone really does say Flynn.
Why is she calling me? She hasn’t made any attempt to contact me outside of therapy since I explained I ended things and thoroughly pissed her off. Still, I’m stuck in a moral dilemma. Do I cave to my wants and answer the call or do I stand my ground and keep my distance?
We have a session tomorrow, it can wait.
But if it could wait, wouldn’t she be waiting?
Before I can make up my damn mind, the phone still in my hand ten seconds later, it’s ringing again. Now I’m concerned and my mind is made up.
“Flynn, are you okay?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Her voice is distressed without even an ounce of sarcasm which shocks me to my core.
“What’s happening? Do I need to come get you?” I cringe. If she’s at home, I can’t go get her. I shouldn’t even be offering. But I’m just being a gentleman, right? Nothing more?
I can’t even tell anymore.
“Actually, can I come to you? I need to get out of my house right now.”
“Flynn—”
“It’s not about that, Liam. I’m not trying to win you back or sleep with you. I…I found something. And it could explain everything.”
“What does that mean?”
A heavy exhale shoots through the phone and into my ear. I can imagine her pacing her room, her fingers tugging through her raven strands. “I think I’m adopted.”
Eighteen
Flynn
“Show me what you found.” Liam opens the door looking like a goddamn mess and reeking of booze, but I don’t have time to worry about him right now.
I walk into his apartment with a bag of evidence to support my theory. I’m about to look like Charlie Day in the conspiracy theory memes.
“It started with comments here and there that my mom was making. How I’m ‘so much like my father it scares her’ when my dad is the human embodiment of a stick in the mud. Then you told me my diagnosis is generally genetic. When I told my mom, she got all weird about it. Like, she was questioning it and then got all tense and quiet. So I started digging.”
I dump out the few items I have from my purse. “It’s harder than I thought it would be, but it’s the little things. Like how I don’t look like my siblings when my brother and sister look so much alike. How they both have my dad’s bright blue eyes but mine are dark brown.” I place a bunch of pictures out, showcasing my tanned skin compared to my siblings’ fair complexions.
Liam picks up one of the pictures of me and my siblings, studying it hard. “Flynn—” he starts, his voice shocked, but I cut him off.
“I know, right? I never noticed it before but…those two are obviously brother and sister. They could almost be freakin’ twins. How could I miss that? It’s so fucking obvious.” I shake my head and Liam’s brows crinkle. “What is it?”
“This is your sister?” I nod, waiting for him to elaborate on why he’s acting so weird. I’d almost be concerned that he fucked her or something, but this is Carson we’re talking about and until recently, Liam was married, so I know they didn’t sleep together. “I just saw her—”
“Okay, that’s cool, but can we get back to my thing now? I’m kinda in the middle of something huge here. We can talk about my sister later.” He puts the photo down, though still scrutinizing it, but I put it away. I need him to focus on me right now.
“But Flynn, listen—”
“No, Liam. Please.” His lips snap shut. Whatever seemingly urgent thing he has to say about Carson can wait. “So, I pulled out my birth certificate and this is also weird. It reminded me of these comments my dad would make, how I was his miracle baby. After my parents had my brother Lucas, my dad got a vasectomy. Yet, here I am. I guess there’s still, like, a chance it could happen? But anyway, I have my birth certificate. Both my parents’ signatures are
