It must be a minute or two until I’m shaken out of my daze. I peer up and find Connor looking down at me.
“I’m just grabbing dessert. You okay?” His relaxed facial expression disappears when he looks into my eyes.
I toss the tablet to the side and stand up, ignoring Connor. I walk into the kitchen and begin to pace.
“What’s wrong?” Concern is apparent in his voice.
“The mosquitos are getting vicious,” my mother points out as she and my father enter through the sliding door.
The mood vanishes when they notice me standing in the kitchen, mostly in a bewildered state.
“What’s up?” my father asks.
I stare at him for a long second. “Ashton’s biology project. Have you seen it?”
He shrugs. “No, he mentioned it, but I haven’t seen it yet.”
I’m unable to blink or move, I just stare at him. “It’s about blood types. How if your father is one type, your mother another, then their kids will have X type.” I study him to see if his eyes change, but it feels like we’re in a standoff. “I got my blood type the other week when I went to the doctor, routine tests, nothing really. Surprised it never came up before, actually.” There it is, a heaviness glazing his eyes, fear combined with revelation. A bitter laugh escapes me. “According to my little brother’s project, you have type O blood, but the thing is…”
I vaguely hear my brother walk into the room, but my mother ushers him away to somewhere else, grasping the gravity of this situation.
“Hadley.” My father says my name as if he’s carrying the weight of years on his back.
Connor steps closer to me, but I step back, as I need space to process.
“If both parents are type O, they can never have kids who are type A. Since my birth mom did do something right and left us with her medical history, then we know her type, which means it can’t be possible that I’m type A… but I am.”
I never knew it was possible to hear glass breaking if no glass is even present. But that’s what is happening in this very moment as my father’s face falls and tears pool in his eyes.
“It’s not what you think,” he says, his voice breaking.
Connor steps closer to me to touch my arm. “Hadley, why don’t you sit down.”
“Sit down!” I squeak out with so much strain inside my body. “Oh my God, it’s true, isn’t it? You’re not really my father.” I begin to lose my footing as panic takes over.
“I am. It’s complicated,” he admits.
I shake my head in disbelief. This isn’t happening. “No, no, this is some joke.”
“Hear him out,” Connor pleads softly.
My eyes snap to him in surprise, why would Connor say that? He should be as astonished as I am. I yank my arm away from his touch. Something clicks in my head. “You knew!”
The immediate pain in Connor’s face is my answer.
“Since when?” I ask, with a tear falling down my cheek.
Connor swallows and his fists hang by his sides. He glances to my dad then back to me. “For a while.” He’s avoiding the answer.
I push him out of frustration. “Tell me the truth.”
Connor grabs my wrists, softly, tenderly, as if he can see I’m fragile and he won’t be the one to break me. “A few years.” His jaw tightens. “The morning after we…” he whispers.
But his attempt fails because I break.
19
CONNOR
