Page 71 of Lose You to Find Me

He would have been heartbroken from how long he’d have to wait for that day to come. Science can only do so much for people like me.

Nostrils flaring at the growing anger, I clench and unclench my fists and focus back on Leon and his story.

He busies himself by organizing the ingredients laid out. “The first few adoptions fell through, and it nearly broke my beautiful wife’s heart. Seeing her like that…” The breath he releases is full of painful nostalgia as he shakes his balding head. “I never wanted to experience that again. The day we signed the papers and officially got to welcome little Jen into our lives was one of the best days of my life. Because I got to see my Annemarie atpeace.”

Peace.Maybe you don’t have to get everything you want out of life to be one hundred percent happy. Maybe you can still find peace in what you’re given. If it’s with the right person.

Like it was for Leon and Annemarie.

I grab one of the measuring cups closest to me and toy with the glass handle. “Does Jenna live somewhere else and that’s why you don’t see her often?”

When his jaw clenches, I realize it’s probably a conversation he doesn’t want to indulge me in. But before I can switch topics, he answers. “Jenna has always struggled with her history. Her adoption was closed, which means we didn’t know anything about her biological parents. When she turned seventeen, she wanted to know where she came from. We couldn’t help her, and it caused a bit of a…rift of sorts between us. As she got older, she found other reasons to resent us. We always chalked it up to teenage rebellion, but it never got better.”

Sadness settles into my chest. “But you see each other still.”

His hands pause from grabbing the graham crackers we’re somehow turning into a crust. “When Jenna found out she was pregnant with her first child, a little boy, she reached out. She told her mother and me that she finally understood that her past didn’t matter.”

He loses me. “It didn’t?”

Leon shakes his head. “No. She said family are the people who love you even when you’re a little shit. Her words, not mine. It’s true though. You can’t choose who you’re related to, but youcanpick your family. I think finally having one of her own put a lot into perspective for her about what kind of love life has to offer.”

One of my hands goes to my stomach. “If you don’t mind me asking, did you and your wife ever get angry about not having your own kids?”

My neighbor studies me, his eyes moving down to my stomach before I force my hand to move away before he assumes the same thing Caleb did. “We were sad,” he admits. “But we still got a child, even if Annemarie didn’t carry her. That doesn’t make Jenna any less ours. We’re the ones who sheltered her, fed her, and loved her. We’re lucky to have had the opportunity and privilege to raise such a wonderful woman. Not everybody gets that chance, even if they deserve it.”

Emotion that’s nearly impossible to swallow crams into the back of my throat.

“Word of advice,” Leon says. “There’s no such thing as a perfect family. Everybody fights. Everybody argues. Hell, sometimes people stop talking to each other for a while. But family is always family at the end of the day, no matter how your bond is formed. Flaws and all. That love will always be there.”

My fingers tighten at my sides before I dare picking my eyes up. “Thanks for that.”

I’m tempted to tell him about everything.

Caleb and me.

Cody.

AfterCody.

But as each second passes, I lose my courage to open up to somebody.

Leon hums. “Enough stalling. Let’s get this pie done so you can hound me with more questions before your next deadline. I have a story about that time my wife caught me with my pants down doing my business on the side of the road in broad daylight. Woman is a saint for still loving my drunk ass after that one.”

I laugh. “I’m looking forward to that story.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

CALEB

Dad’s armchair isthree feet to the right of where it normally sits, leaving me hyper focused on the indentation marks left in the carpet. The living room looks completely different ever since hospice came in with all the necessities they need to take care of Dad. Mom and one of the nighttime aides rearranged some of the furniture to make sure everyone could get around easier. There are tubes and wires and machines scattered in the corner, and the room smells like medicine and antiseptic.

I can tell all the changes are hard on Mom, but she never says a word about how the house has stopped feeling normal since everything was moved around. She puts a smile on her face as though nothing is wrong.

Dad jerks away from the woman working on his arm. “That hurts, dammit,” he barks at her.

The woman, Mary, doesn’t seem fazed as she offers softly, “Sorry, Rich. I’ll try being more careful. Only a few more seconds, okay?”

I know he can’t help his temper these days, but it doesn’t make it any easier watching him lash out at people when it’s so far from who he normally is as a person. “Owen said that they caught the guys who broke into the store,” I tell him, referring to his friend who’s a retired police officer. “A couple of teenagers with nothing better to do, I guess. They tried breaking into the bank down the street a few days ago, where they ended up being arrested.”

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