“Yes. Have been for a few minutes. But we were busy.”
I flush, because even though the partition is soundproof and the window tint is literally illegally dark and mirrored, I have this feeling that there’s no way we got away with doing all that unseen. He chuffs a short laugh and cards his fingers through my hair, soothing me.
“No one saw. Let’s get you put together. We can’t go in there with you looking like this. This post-fuck sweet boy look is just for me.”
His possessive growl sends shivers through me, and I passively let him straighten our clothes. I stay lying on theseat, unwilling to sit up and look around. Unwilling to risk that strange anxiety.
“Baby,” he whispers, and bundles me into his arms. I close my eyes as he pulls me up and cuddles me. His lips press against mine and I sigh into the kiss, letting it soothe me. “Sweet boy, I know this must be frightening, but I need to tell you something.”
“Okay.” I keep my eyes closed and rest my face against his chest.
“I went looking for your birth family.”
I don’t flinch, don’t tense. Don’t react at all. I just keep breathing. My ass hurts so fucking much, and it keeps me from floating away into nothingness. So I’m present, fully aware, but somehow…unsurprised.
Did I recognize our surroundings? Is that why I was feeling so panicked and angry? Was my subconscious trying to repress these memories?
“Your mother and your grandmother are both inside an apartment here. They never stopped looking for you. I didn’t tell them I had you with me, just that I had some questions for them. We don’t have to go inside. I can send Yosef to ask a few questions.”
“Wh–” My voice falters. “What if they…”
When it’s clear I’m not going to keep talking, Young-gi offers me something else. “This might sound strange, but if you’d like, I can have Yosef tell them you died. They can get closure that way, and you’ll never have to reopen that door.”
I pull back so I can look into his eyes. He’s so serious and somber, his mouth so stern and his eyes so warm.
“I’ll go,” I whisper. “But I don’t…I don’t remember them much.”
“Such a brave boy,” he says, kissing my face. “It’s alright. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I know I should’ve toldyou, but I wanted to give this back to you, and I knew you would tell me not to if I didn’t keep it a secret.”
He’s right. If he’d asked me, I would have told him I didn’t want them found. I’d walked around Chicago before, but I’d never seen anything familiar. Or at least, I don’t think I did. Maybe I was kidding myself, even back then. I’ve been terrified all this time. Such a fucking coward–
“I have soap in the glovebox,” Young-gi warns, like he can read my mind. My sore ass throbs and I wince, shaking my head.
“I don’t need it.”
He hums, but doesn’t argue or rush me. He lets me sit there and tremble for a while, until finally I work myself up and jump out of the car in one burst of movement. The sun is shining down on the street, on the building in front of us. It’s an older complex, but not a dump. Windows have cheerful shutters, there are potted plants near the cracked sidewalks. Cars are parked in a row down the quiet street.
I look around, and my stomach swoops while my heart gallops. “I don’t remember this place.”
“That’s okay,” Young-gi tells me, putting his hand on my lower back. “You don’t need to remember anything. This is about moving forward. The man that you killed doesn’t deserve to be the one that keeps you from ever making new memories with your family.”
Well, when he puts it like that…
I let him lead me around the building to some side stairs. I’m looking all around, and that’s when I see it.
A blue dumpster, off to the side, near a back-alley entrance. A few of the apartment doors open into that alley, and their windows overlook it.
I’m in a daze as I walk to it. Without even meaning to, I walk right up to the door I remember from my dreams. It was alwayscracked open in my dreams, so she could hear me. Her window curtains were always pulled back, so she could watch me.
I stare at the door, overwhelmed.
“We don’t have to,” Young-gi whispers to me, wrapping himself around me from behind, offering comfort. “Your safe word still applies, even here. Always. It’s up to you.”
“I’m–I’m green,” I whisper back. “Are they in here?”
“I asked them to be in your mother’s apartment upstairs. So I doubt it. Let’s go up.”
Part of me wants to stay, to go inside this apartment. I never had dreams about the inside, so I don’t know what it looks like. But there is a deep, yawning hole inside me that suddenly hurts, suddenly wants to be full of memories. Maybe if I could just see inside, I’ll remember something–
