“Nonsense! You’re staying here. We’re ordering takeout, because I’m starving, and you’re gonna tell me all about your birth family.”
I drop back to the couch on a laugh. It fades just as quickly when memories resurface.My parents.I told them I found my birth parents and then Drew lost it and everything turned to chaos.
“Hey,” Reagan says softly. “Where’d you go?”
“My parents probably have so many questions,” I reply, tone worried.
“They’ll understand. You’ll get another chance to talk with them soon.”
“Yeah, but I should text them.”
My hands ghost over my body, eyes darting from the coffee table to the kitchen to the entryway. I shoot up from the couch, scanning every surface as I spin in place. “Dammit!” I slap a palm to my forehead. “I left my purse at the restaurant. My phone’s in there.”
“Ahhh, okay. Damage control. Don’t panic.” She raises her phone and swipes it to life. “We’re gonna call the restaurant and make sure they have it. And then we’re gonna tell Drew to swing by and grab it on his way home.”
“Right. Okay.”
Her fingers tap away on the screen. “And I’ll text Connor and tell him you’re here waiting on Drew?”
“Yeah, please. And my parents, too, if you don’t mind.”
“On it,” Reagan says as she effortlessly flips her lawyer-mode switch and gets stuff done.
Hours pass.
Reagan asks, and I answer, all of her questions about my birth family. We order takeout, watch a romcom, binge the first half of the latest season ofEmily in Paris, and I paint Reagan’s toenails.
The sun has set, the view outside their balcony doors transforming to the night canvas of a city illuminated by streetlights. Reagan stifles a yawn and I’m about to wave my white flag and head back to Connor’s, when Drew finally walks through the front door.
He waves my purse at me before setting it on the entry table.
“Thank you,” I say.
Drew doesn’t respond as he drops his keys and wallet on the same table and walks himself to the kitchen for a glass of water.
“I’m gonna head to bed,” Reagan says.
Drew doesn’t look at me as he sweeps past me to help Reagan to her feet. He tosses her blanket to the side and guides her to the bedroom with a soft hand on her lower back.
I give them their privacy for a few moments while I move for my phone tucked inside my purse, eager to text Connor.
The battery is dead. Because of course it is.Dammit.
I toss my purse and good-for-nothing phone to the far end of the couch as I sit back down, steeling myself for this conversation. The hours since he stormed off and my conversation with Reagan have somewhat tempered my rage, so maybe that’s for the best.
Reagan and Drew share a few whispered words before the bedroom door closes and my brother slowly turns to face me.
“I don’t wanna do this right now, Gretch.”
I rub my lips together and cross my arms over my chest. “We have to talk about it, Drew.”
He shakes his head, jaw clenched so I know the anger is still there, but more than anything he looks tired.
“Drew,” I whisper, pleading.
He meets my gaze.
“You can’t shut me out.”
