Page 180 of Shy Girls Can't Fake Date

I gasp. “Oh my gosh.”

“It was so bad I needed a blood transfusion. The doctors asked my parents to donate, but neither was a match.” He takes another deep breath. “Obviously, that raised some questions. It was soon after that I learned I was adopted.”

My jaw drops, and I can’t even utter a syllable to describe my shock.

Parker chews his lip, apprehensively waiting to continue.

“So...” I falter as the fog lifts from my mind. “Umm, is it just you? I mean, are all your brothers adopted?”

He shakes his head. “We all have the same dad. I just have another mom.”

I gulp, feeling an ache deep in the pit of my stomach. My forehead builds with sweat as I fathom the part where he didn’t know about this.

Parker tilts his head. “Are you okay?”

I sit back, wide-eyed as I wipe my brow. “Yeah. Why?”

“Because you look ready to puke.”

“No,” I rush. “Oh my gosh, no. Parker, I’m sorry. I just... I don’t understand what this means.”

Parker sits back on the bed and exhales slowly. “My real mom died after I was born.” He averts his eyes as he adds, “And I mean, straight after I was born.”

My hands raise, trembling, to cover my nose and mouth.

Parker leans forward and pulls a framed photo out from under the bed. “This was her. I still can’t believe I went years without knowing she existed.”

I lower my hands, taking in the striking eyes and familiar smile of the woman in the photo.

“She has your smile,” I murmur.

Parker sets the photo down between us.

I shut my eyes tight, trying to make sense of this. “How did you not know about her?”

“My parents said it was too hard.”

I stare at him with a mixture of confusion and simmering anger.

Parker draws a finger around the frame. “I dunno. They said they tried, but it was always too hard. When we were kids, Kurtis and I always wanted to be the same. Apparently, anytime they sat me down to tell me about my mom, I’d get upset. Either that, or Kurtis would want to be part of the conversation too.”

I clench my fists, keeping my anger in check. I need to be calm so Parker can tell his story, no matter how outraged I am at his parents.

“They said they wanted to tell me when I got older.” Parker shifts, looking away from the photo. “I know it really hurt my mom to admit I wasn’t really hers.”

“I get that this is a tough topic,” I say, my resolve crumbling, “but you have a right to know your own history. Why didn’t they tell you sooner?”

“I guess they didn’t want to confuse me.” Parker stares at the photo. “But it would’ve been easier, seeing this face as I grew up, and knowing she existed.”

I clutch my chest, feeling a break in my heart. “Of course, it would’ve been. I’m so sorry. I had no idea you were struggling with something like this.”

Parker shakes his head. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m fine.”

“You can feel bad. It’s okay. You don’t need to put on a front.”

He hikes a knee on the edge on the bed and rests his elbow on top. “I hated finding out in the hospital. It was like I instantly didn’t belong. And then the next year, William was born. No one said it, but it felt like I wasn’t allowed to bring it up. They didn’t want to hear about what I was going through because there was a new baby to look after.”

“No way,” it puffs out of me.

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