Page 35 of Broken Secrets
“Emma,” she whispers, and the name comes out like she’s testing how it sounds after years of not saying it aloud.
“Your half sister,” Robert says quietly, his voice steady in a way that suggests he’s been preparing for this conversation for years. “Jeremy’s daughter.”
Mom’s hands start to shake. She sets her coffee mug on the side table with trembling fingers, the ceramic rattling against the wood. “How did she, when did she…”
“Tonight,” I say, still standing in the doorway because sitting down feels too committed to this conversation. “She sent me a message on Instagram about an hour ago.”
“An hour ago.” She repeats the words like she’s trying to make sense of them. “She just… contacted you out of nowhere?”
“Not exactly out of nowhere. She said she’s known about me for over a year. She found some things of Jeremy’s and he toldher the truth.” I watch Mom’s face crumble with each detail. “She’s been wanting to reach out but wasn’t sure if I’d want to hear from her.”
Robert clears his throat. “Maybe we should all sit down and talk about this properly.”
I finally move from the doorway and perch on the edge of the armchair across from them, but I keep my feet flat on the floor, ready to escape if this gets too intense.
“What did she say?” Mom asks, her voice barely audible. “About Jeremy. About… us.”
“She knows the basic story. About you and Jeremy being married, about Lilly, about why we left Michigan.” I study Mom’s face, watching for her reaction. “She said Jeremy talks about me. That he’s followed my soccer career through the school website. That he’s wanted to reach out but didn’t know if it was his place.”
She makes a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “His place. After eighteen years, he’s worried about his place.”
“Alexis,” Robert says gently, his hand finding hers on the couch.
“She seems really nice,” I continue. “Genuine. She told me she’s always wanted a sister, and when she found out about me, she couldn’t stop thinking about what I might be like.”
“And what did you tell her?” Her voice is getting louder, but there’s an edge to it now. “About us? About our life here?”
“I told her the truth. That you’ve been protective of me. That it’s complicated.” I lean forward in my chair. “She understands that this situation is messy. She’s not trying to cause problems. She just wants to know me.”
She stands up abruptly and starts pacing to the window and back, her arms wrapped around herself like she’s trying to hold herself together. “This is what I was afraid of. This is exactly what I’ve been trying to prevent for eighteen years.”
“What, exactly?” I ask. “Emma reaching out? Me finding out I have a sister who actually wants to know me?”
“I was afraid of you getting hurt!” The words explode out of her. “I was afraid of you building up hopes and expectations only to have them crushed when you realize you’re not their priority!”
Robert stands and intercepts her pacing, his hands on her shoulders. “Honey, maybe you should sit down.”
“I can’t sit down. I can’t,” She breaks free from his grip and resumes pacing. “Do you understand what this means, Robert? If Emma is reaching out, if Jeremy’s been talking about Olivia, then they’re going to want contact. Real contact. They’re going to want to meet her.”
“And would that be so terrible?” Robert asks quietly.
The question stops mom in her tracks. She turns to stare at him, and I can see the panic in her eyes.
“Yes,” she whispers. “It would be terrible. Because then Olivia will see what she’s been missing. She’ll see Jeremy being a father to Emma, see their perfect little family, and she’ll realize that we’re just the consolation prize.”
“That’s not true,” I say, but she continues like she hasn’t heard me.
“She’ll see how easy and natural it is for Jeremy to love Emma, and she’ll wonder why he never fought harder for her. She’ll start to question everything about the life we’ve built here, and she’ll realize that maybe I was the problem all along.”
“Mom, stop.” I stand up, needing to interrupt this spiral before it gets worse. “That’s not going to happen.”
“How do you know?” Her voice cracks. “How can you possibly know that?”
“Because you’re my mom,” I say simply. “You raised me. You were there for every scraped knee and bad grade and heartbreak. Jeremy might be my biological father, but you and Robert are my family.”
Robert’s face softens, and he nods.
“But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know where I came from,” I continue. “It doesn’t mean I’m not curious about Emma or Jeremy. I spent my entire childhood making up stories about my father, wondering what he was like, if he ever thought about me. Now I know he thought about me. Now I have a chance to actually know him instead of just wondering.”
