“I just need ten minutes, Poppy, can you give me that? To explain everything, and then I’ll leave. I’ll wait until the tests are back, and when you’re ready, we can meet again.” Tessa clasps her hands under her chin like she’s almost begging or praying, I can’t work out which. But I know something in my gut feels sorry for her. She’s absolutely done the wrong thing turning up here, but I can’t be cruel enough to turn her away.
After all, she’s probably going to be a part of my life in some way going forward. I need to fix this and start with mutual respect between us that can hopefully build to something more. And I have so many questions about her, my biological father, and whether I have siblings. Tessa’s the only one who can tell me that. So I need to find some common ground, as hard as it feels right now. I’ll still keep my guard up and some distance between us, but I could try for friendship. Because I think that’s all I’ll want. For now, anyway.
“Ten minutes, nothing more. And you aren’t to speak to the boys that are in the other room. You’ve already confused them enough, but we can’t stand out here talking for the whole neighborhood to see. Follow me.” My mother’s neighbors are a bunch of gossips, and I don’t want to subject her to the constant chatter and side glances when they’re talking about me and the lady who looked exactly like me that they saw chatting on the front porch.
Although I don’t feel good about Tessa being here, my gut tells me the boys aren’t in any danger—well, not physically, anyway. I’m sure they’re totally confused, but I can deal withthat later. I’m probably going to regret this, but ten minutes will get her in and out before either Mom or Landon arrive home. Both would be polar opposites in their reactions to her being here. Mom would want her to stay for dinner and bend over backwards to make her feel comfortable. While I suspect after the way Landon and I have talked about how he would react if he saw Dean again, his meeting her now wouldn’t go well. The way he described how he would turn all alpha male to protect me from Dean, I just know that means he would come in here wound up, ready to take on Tessa for turning up here uninvited. He’d probably want to throw her out onto the street, and then follow it up with a whole lot of yelling. I fear it would be nothing like the Landon who’s always so calm, because this time it’s not just me but the boys involved too. Neither situation are what I want, so let’s get this over with, sooner rather than later.
I start down the hallway, hearing her step inside and close the door behind her. The closer I get to the living room, I can hear the boys whisper-arguing. Kade wants to see what’s happening, and Nash is telling him not to move, like Dad and Poppy said. As I reach the entrance to the living room, I stop. “Everything is fine, I don’t want you to be worried. I’m just going to take Tessa into the kitchen. I need you both to stay here and continue being good quiet boys, okay?”
Nash nods at me as he places one hand over Kade’s mouth, knowing his brother doesn’t know how not to talk. In his other hand, he’s still clutching my phone so tightly his knuckles are white.
My precious boys, I feel so terrible that they’re frightened, and I know this is going to need some explaining once Tessa has left. I would never put them in danger, but I know they don’t understand that.
I continue past them toward the kitchen with Tessa in tow behind me.
“Hello,” I hear her say sweetly to them.
I stop, glaring at her over my shoulder, and Tessa mumbles an apology to me. I just stare at her for a moment then turn my head back and continue on toward the kitchen.
The small round table we have in the kitchen is where Mom and I have sat so many times over the years to have serious discussions. In a way, I don’t want to tarnish those memories by having Tessa here, but I can’t take her anywhere else. I need her away from the boys.
“Sit, please.” I’m doing my best to soften my voice, even just a smidgen.
“Thank you. Can I help you with the chair?” she asks before she sits.
“No, I’m fine. Thank you,” I reply, pulling mine out and lowering myself into it, leaning my crutches next to me in the corner of the room.
“Was it a serious injury?” she asks, trying to break the tension, but I don’t have time for chitchat.
“No.” I’m not even sure I’m ready to hear this story, but the clock is already ticking on her ten minutes. “I’d like you to tell me what you came here to say.”
My hands are resting on my thighs under the table, scrunched up in tight fists. My body is so tense, full of stress and anxiety right now.
“Oh, okay, right, yes.” She stumbles over her words and then stops to take a deep breath.
“I came to tell you I’m so sorry… Poppy.” Her slight hesitation tells me she’s still trying to get used to saying my name. “I surrendered you because I couldn’t look after you. I wanted you to have a chance at a better life than I could give you. And I know that sounds cliché, but it’s the honest truth.” She looks at me, waiting for a reaction, but I’m not letting her off that easily.
“And?” I prod her to continue.
“Oh, um, and I watched the firehouse after I put you in the safe box to make sure you were found. I saw them carry you to the ambulance, and then it drove out, turning in the direction of the hospital. I walked away crying but knowing deep down I’d done the right thing. It was the only real option I had.” She keeps picking at the cuticle around her nail, drawing my attention to her hands, which don’t look in the best shape. Dry, wrinkled, and nails that are a little yellow in color.
“Why couldn’t you take care of me?” There are a few possible scenarios running through my head, but I need her to tell me. I’m not guessing anymore. I want to know every single detail, no matter how hard it is for her to tell me.
“I wasn’t in a good place, Poppy. Please don’t judge me. I was a twenty-year-old addict with no money.” Her tears start to pool in her eyes again.
Something in me starts to feel bad for how harsh I’m being, guarded and unsympathetic. It can’t have been easy for her, either back then or now. Nothing she just said has shocked me, because being an addict was the top reason I had on my list of why my biological mother left me the way she did. I have a flashback to the woman and baby we rescued from the fire just before my accident, homeless and living in a dirty, derelict building. Was this what Tessa’s life was like?
I should reach out, take her hand in mine, and comfort her, but I just can’t. She still feels so foreign to me. There hasn’t been that connection of souls straight away like I used to read about in stories of people finding their parents. Tessa might look like me, but there’s something holding me back, and I have no idea yet what it is, but if the last few months have taught me anything, it’s that I have to give my brain time to process things.
“I see,” I reply. And before I even ask this question, I’m pretty sure I already know the answer. “What about my father, was he an addict too?”
“Probably,” she replies and then sobs out loud. “God, Poppy, I don’t even know who he is. I was out of it most of the time, and slept around with a lot of random guys.” She drops her head into her hands, crying harder now, and I can tell how embarrassed she is to admit that to me.
But all I can focus on is that I will never know who my biological father is. I’m struggling to even process Tessa sitting here in front of me, but hearing that too makes this so much harder.
“And siblings, were there others like me back then?” I’m feeling emotional at the thought she left other babies at stations too.
“No, you were my only baby I ever had,” she gets out between sobs. I let her continue to cry, until she finally stops, wiping her tears with the sleeves of her shirt. I give her a minute to pull herself together, which she manages, but the silence in the room is deafening, and I can’t take it.
