Page 2 of Unexpected Hero

He’s about to die.

I don’t have the luxury of time to come to terms with this before I need to say goodbye.

My so-called parents divorced a while ago, and Mama and I aren’t on good terms. Soon, I’ll be all alone in the world.

With only the memory of a life chock full of lies to keep me company.

Unless I’m not alone.

A seed of hope implants itself in my gut. My birth mother died shortly after having me, but what about…

“Papa, what about my birth father?”

His face sours, and his lips pinch tight. He simply shakes his head, unable to hold my stare.

My chin wobbles. “He didn’t want me?”

Papa looks at me through shimmering brown eyes. “Nah, sweetie. It ain’t that. He went to Afghanistan to fight. I don’t think he knew you existed before…” His words trail off, sadness surrounding us both.

“He was in the military?”

“Yeah. The Army.”

“He died when she was pregnant with me?

He nods solemnly.

“So I probably don’t have siblings.”

“No.”

Returning to my seat beside his bed, I settle into my cold new reality. Both parents dead before I was even a week old.

And twenty-four years later, I’m about to lose another one.

He reaches out to me, palm facing up. The tubes from his IV are tangled around his arm. I grip his hand and squeeze gently, careful not to aggravate the bruises visible through his paper-thin, aged skin.

“I’m so sorry, Lettie bear. Will you be okay?”

I nod, sucking in a cleansing breath. “I will. It’ll take some time, but I’ll make peace with it eventually. I love you, Papa. But I really wish you had told me sooner. It’s not like I would have loved you less.”

“After I’m gone, don’t let this ruin the relationship you have with your mama. She loves you.”

A hundred snarky replies die on my tongue, all of them with the same sentiment.

She has a funny way of showing it.

Are you sure about that?

If that’s love, I’ll pass.

You don’t treat someone you love the way she treated me.

But I hold them back because he doesn’t need to worry about me and Mama. It’s not his fault she’s grown cold these last few years.

Knowing I’m not her real daughter sheds light on some of her treatment of me. The little snide comments that reeked of resentment. The periodic outbursts. Nothing I did was ever good enough.

Now I know why. Because I killed her real daughter.

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