“Then what is it? Because you’re not happy—not really. Your brother’s acting strange, and Steph was clearly upset today.”
“And she’ll be even more upset when I tell you,” I murmur.
“What was that?”
I sigh once more, letting my head drop back against the couch and closing my eyes in the process.
This is it.
Rip off the band-aid.
“Isaid, ‘she’ll be even more upset when I tell you …’” I pause, swallowing thickly before continuing, “That Matt is my son.”
Silence.
Save for my pulse thrumming in my ears.
I crack an eyelid only to see tears welling in her own.
“What?” she breathes.
And I finally tell her everything.
36
Steph
Riley
My mom knows
I’msorry
NauseaswampsmeasI continue to stare at the words on the screen. The text from Riley had come through a little while ago, but I’ve been frozen ever since, unable to respond to him or even to tear my eyes from the phone.
She knows.
Nora knows.
I knew the day would come, and I shouldn’t be surprised, but after our fight today in the clearing, I guess I thought—
Well, I don’t know what the hell I thought. It’s not like we resolved anything.
The knock at the door pulls me from my panic spiral, though it does little to alleviate the churning in my head or in my stomach, for I have little doubt who it is.
I move towards the door as though headed to the gallows, thankful Matt and Alex decided to grab burgers with friends at Millie’s after the beach. Even through the beveled glass in the door, her distress is obvious. I straighten my shoulders and exhale a fortifying breath, then turn the knob.
“Nora,” I say softly.
Her eyes are swollen and red-rimmed when they meet mine.
I swallow, then step back so she can enter, murmuring, “Please come in.”
She follows me silently through to the kitchen, shoulders taut, her entire demeanor stiff. We stand on either side of the table as though across a battlefield, neither of us moving to take a seat. I watch her gaze move around the room, then come to settle onthe fridge, where several photos of the boys are displayed with magnets. She appears to zero in on one in particular—Matty in his football uniform, smiling proudly following a game-winning play. She stares at it for a long moment until finally she speaks. “How could you?”
The question is barely above a whisper, and the pain in her voice causes my heart to clench.
“That’s pretty much what Riley said when he found out.”
