Page 37 of Time for Change

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No, don’t apologize. You don’t owe us anything. I’m just…wow. I’m so shocked, yet not. I mean, with how absent she was with me and Jameson growing up, it never crossed my mind she’d have more kids but, apparently, I was wrong.” BJ reaches into the box and retrieves a fork, then stabs it into her cinnamon roll and takes a big bite. “Can I see it?” she asks, still chewing her food.

“See what?” I ask, confused.

When she swallows, she replies, “The picture.”

“Oh. Uh, sure,” I respond, getting up and moving to my bedroom. I note Jameson standing in the exact spot he was last night, arms crossed over his chest as he listens.

After retrieving the framed photo, I return to the kitchen and hand it over. BJ smiles down at the image, and after a beat says, “This is the first photo I’ve ever seen from my childhood.”

My heart squeezes in my chest as I slip back onto my chair. “I don’t have any either.”

BJ turns those light brown eyes my way, a kinship of sorts, an understanding shining back at me. She looks back down at the picture before glancing back at Jameson. “I hope it’s okay if I ask, but can I get a copy of this sometime?”

My throat is thick as I nod. “Yes, of course.”

She gives me a small smile, replacing the frame on the table and grabbing her fork again. “So, Jameson says you’re about to turn twenty-one, right?”

“Yes, in March.” I pick up my bear claw and take a small bite. The sugary pastry explodes with flavor in my mouth, and suddenly, I feel famished.

“Well, with that math, she must have gotten pregnant right after I moved out. I left after my high school graduation too, though I had spent as much time at Jameson’s as I possibly could. We literally haven’t seen or heard from her since. I don’t remember your dad, but I try not to remember much from that time in my life.”

“I was born in Roberts. I’m not sure if she and my dad moved directly there after leaving Stewart Grove or whether there was a stop in between, but I was born at Riverside. I never knew any family members, never met anyone other thanfriends.”

Both Jameson and BJ simultaneously snort. “Friends.I remember plenty of those in and out of the house,” BJ says, a touch of an edge in her voice. “And your dad?”

“They never married, and he left when I was about six. At least that’s what my mom said. I don’t remember. He married my stepmom, Shelly, and I went to his house on the weekends, but it wasn’t much better than my mom’s.”

We take a few bites in silence, and despite there being a heaviness in the air around us, it’s not entirely uncomfortable. Sure, I can sense Jameson’s eyes on me, but even that feels encouraging.

When I’ve almost finished my pastry, I blurt out, “I can get a DNA test. You’re probably going to want one.”

Before BJ can respond, it’s Jameson who speaks up behind us. “Not necessary.”

I risk a glance back, not sure what I’ll see. I’m definitely not expecting to find him a bit more relaxed than he’s been since he found the photograph on my counter. “What?”

He looks to BJ for a moment, and that faint smile of his crosses his lips. “You’re the spitting image of Beej. You have…our eyes.”

It’s not the first time I’ve noticed the resemblance, but I also wasn’t sure if it was mewantingto see it.

“You really do,” BJ adds with a wide grin. “And the shape of our face is the same. I think our mouths too.”

I nod. “My hair is brown like my dad’s, but I resemble the woman who birthed me.”

BJ snorts a laugh. “The woman who birthed me. I like that.”

I sigh and shake my head. “This still feels surreal. We have so much to talk about.”

“It does, and we’ll get there,” BJ replies, reaching over and squeezing my hand. The warmth is foreign and feels…good. She looks over her shoulder and asks, “Do you have any more questions?”

He takes a moment before asking, “What do you want from us?”

Isn’t that a loaded question.

My throat gets tight with emotion once more, and I find myself blinking a few times to keep any moisture at bay. “I guess I just want to know you. I’ve spent twenty years of my life without anyone but two parents who always valued everyone else before me. It’s probably not what you want, but—”

“It is,” BJ quickly assures me.

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