Page 63 of 2nd Strike
“So what's going on with Jerome?" I ask as we head east like normal sisters.
A startled expression crosses her face before she pointedly turns to look out her window. "What do you mean?"
"I may have been a little preoccupied the past few days, but I'm not blind. You've had this weird air about you ever since he showed up yesterday. Did he ask you out or something?"
She clears her throat. “Or something."
I glance over and see her smiling in a totally different way. “Are you blushing?"
She rolls her eyes and I laugh. “Come on, Meg. Fess up."
“We’ve been sort of stuck for a while. Just friends, you know?"
I stay silent, understanding that feeling all too well.
”I trust him," she says. "He's kind."
"Not to mention good-looking," I throw in, teasingly.
She punches me in the bicep half-heartedly. “He’s definitely my type. But he's such a good friend, I don't want things to get weird between us."
The Schock sisters have a terrible track record with men, and while we both have a few friends, those are in short supply as well. We have plenty of contacts and acquaintances, but true friends––ones we trust beyond a shadow of a doubt—I can count them on one hand.
Meg and I have always been each other's best friend, and that seems to keep others out. The psychologist in me knows that's probably not the healthiest scenario, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I am not, nor will I ever be, closer to anyone than I am to her.
“I’d offer advice," I tell her, "but I'm not exactly an expert, in case you haven't noticed."
We share a laugh and she falls silent, probably thinking about Jerome and where she's going with him.
For the first time in days, I feel a little less filled with doom and gloom. My sister is having boyfriend troubles, the two in the back are talking about music and acting like normal teenagers. I feel like calling my dad later and having a mundane conversation about the weather or politics.
I put my problems on hold, allowing myself a few minutes to relax as I drive us home.
A cruiser sits across the street from our duplex, still keeping the press at bay, and I'm grateful. Meg takes the boys to her side of our shared house, and I sit in my car and call Carl.
"I have your son," I tell him, my mind flashing back to eight years ago when I said the same words to him. "I have a DNA match. I know for sure he's yours, Carl."
Dead silence echoes through the connection, and then I hear very soft crying. I give the man time to process the truth.
It doesn't take long for him to pull himself together. "Who is he?Whereis he?"
“His name is Jon and he's at my sister’s." I rattle off the address. "You and Lily are welcome to come when you're ready, although you won't be granted custody until an official match is completed."
“Lily’s at the studio. She goes on air in a few minutes. I suppose I should wait for her so we can meet him together."
“That decision is up to you. I doubt it’ll be long before the truth is leaked to the press, so you may want to get over here soon. I know both boys have a lot to talk about with you."
A heavy sigh. “Thank you."
“They’ll be waiting when you're ready."
We disconnect and I let Meg know Carl and Lily should be by later. “I’ll stay at my place if you can handle it. No point provoking Lily and I might try to kill her if she smarts off at me."
"I can do it," she says, "but I’ll call you if I need backup."
Jon comes to the door and hugs me. "Thank you," he says, echoing his father's earlier statement. I try not to tear up.
Ethan follows and gives me a fist bump. "Same goes for me. I'm just hoping we can figure out who my real parents are."
