Page 144 of The Charlie Method

Finding my biological relatives was supposed to help me discover a missing piece of my identity, not splinter it even further.

“Why haven’t you told them?” Harrison pushes.

“Because…” I struggle to find the words. “Because I’m not ready. I’m afraid of how they’ll react. I don’t want them to think they aren’t enough for me. That I’m trying to replace them or something.”

His jaw clenches. “So you’re just going to keep me a secret from them forever?”

“Of course not,” I protest, reaching out to touch his arm. But he pulls away.

“You sure about that?” His voice is sharp and full of hurt. “Because it’s sort of starting to feel like I’m just some stranger you’re embarrassed to tell them about.”

“No. Not at all!” My voice rises with desperation. “It’s not that, I promise. I just don’t know how to balance this. I’m still trying to figure it out.”

“I’m your brother.” He sounds sad now. “Your blood. That means something. Or at least it should.”

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back, refusing to cry in front of him, in front of all these people.

“Of course it means something,” I say, my voice trembling. “But they’re my family too. They’ve been there for me my whole life, and I’m going to navigate this situation in a way that feels right for me.”

Harrison shakes his head, his expression full of disappointment.

Relief slams into me when I see Blake returning down the aisle. Thank God. This was getting way too intense for my comfort.

I get it. I know why he’s upset. But he’s rushing me, and I don’t like to be rushed. I’m not ready to have that conversation with my parents. I’m not ready to know if they deliberately chose to adopt me and not Harrison. Fine, maybe I’m stalling. Or maybe I genuinely need the time to process this new relationship, this unfamiliar tie, before I open the door and let the rest of my family in. Either way, I feel like he’s forcing me to make a choice between the only family I’ve ever known and the brother I just found, and it’s unfair of him to do that.

“Are you okay?” Blake asks, studying my face.

“All good.” I’m a pro at faking smiles, and the skill doesn’t leave me today.

I must convince her, because she sits down and takes the cup I hand her without pushing the issue.

“How’s your mom—”

My voice is drowned out by the sound of the stadium announcer bellowing over the loudspeakers, signaling that the game is about to start.

The Briar players burst out of the tunnel in a blur of black and silver. Our quarterback is usually the one who runs through the paper banner, but today the entire team bypasses it, leaving it intact. Instead, the players throw their arms high over their heads to get the fans going. The crowd lets out a roar, and the hum of excitement pulsing in the stadium makes it feel like it’s a living, breathing entity.

As the rest of the team jogs onto the field, followed by their opponents, the announcer’s voice once again reverberates in the air.

“Ladies and gents, boys and girls, we have a special announcement before the game begins,” he booms. “One of our players has something he’d like to say.”

I feel Blake stiffen beside me.

“Oh no,” she moans, already sensing where this is headed.

Seven strapping Briar players start to line up on the field. Each one holds a big, white plaster board.

Blake turns to me, wide-eyed. “He wouldn’t, would he?”

A grin nearly cracks my face in half. “Have you met him?”

“No. Noooo. Make it stop.”

“Sorry, Logan. You did this to yourself.”

The first player, a behemoth linesman with a shiny, shaved head, holds up a sign that reads “I.”

“Oh my God,” I say. “This is the greatest thing ever.”

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