Page 60 of Broken Secrets
When the final whistle blows, the sound hits me again. We’ve done it. League champions. The culmination of four years of early morning practices, weekend tournaments, and dreams that seemed too big for a small California beach town.
My teammates converge on me from every direction, lifting me up off the ground while the crowd goes wild in the stands. The world tilts sideways as they hoist me onto their shoulders, and I can hear Maya’s voice above everyone else’s, screaming my name like she’s announcing the winner of the lottery.
“Livvy! Livvy! Livvy!”
The chant spreads through the student section, then to the parents, until it feels like the entire stadium is calling my name. I raise my arms above my head, drinking in this moment of pure triumph, letting the joy wash over me like warm water.
Derek appears beside my human throne, grinning so wide his face might split in half. “Not bad for someone who was worried about her heart condition.”
“Not bad yourself,”
“We did it,” he says, and there’s something in his voice that makes me realize this means as much to him as it does tome. We’re not just teammates; we’re partners in every way that matters.
The team finally sets me down, but the celebration continues around us. Coaches shaking hands, parents taking pictures, the opposing team congratulating us with the kind of grace that makes high school sports beautiful despite all the pressure and politics.
I look toward the parent section to find Mom and Robert, wanting to share this moment with the people who’ve supported my soccer dreams since I was eight years old running around in oversized cleats.
I spot Mom easily enough; she’s crying happy tears and clutching Robert’s arm like she’s afraid she might float away from excitement. Robert has his camera up, documenting everything with the dedication of a professional photographer.
But there are two other people with them.
Two people who shouldn’t be there, who couldn’t possibly be there, who I must be hallucinating because the adrenaline is making me see things that aren’t real.
Except they are real.
Jeremy stands beside Robert, wearing a nervous smile and a blue button-down shirt that brings out eyes. He’s taller than I expected, with graying hair at his temples and the kind of weathered hands that come from twenty years of electrical work. But there’s no mistaking those eyes, that jawline, the way he holds his left shoulder slightly higher than his right, all the genetic markers I’ve been studying in mirrors my entire life.
And beside him, practically bouncing on her toes with excitement, is Emma.
My sister. My actual, biological, half sister. She’s wearing a hastily-purchased school t-shirt and jeans, like she grabbed whatever was available for this unexpected trip.
Time slows down in that weird way it does when your brain can’t quite process what your eyes are seeing. The celebration continues around me, teammates hugging, parents cheering, the band playing our fight song, but all I can focus on is those four people in the stands.
My mom, who two days ago was crying about how she’d kept me from my father for eighteen selfish years.
My stepfather, who’s been more of a dad to me than most kids get from their biological fathers.
My biological father, who I’ve wondered about every day of my life but never expected to actually meet.
And my sister, who reached out to me on Instagram and changed everything with five simple words:“Hi, I guess we are sisters.”
“Liv?” Derek’s voice cuts through my stunned silence. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I point toward the stands with a shaking finger. “That’s him. That’s Jeremy. And Emma. They’re here.”
He follows my gaze, and his expression shifts from confusion to understanding to something like protective concern. “Your dad and sister? Here? Now?”
“I don’t understand. Mom said she supported whatever relationship I wanted with them, but I thought that meant phone calls and maybe a visit this summer. Not… this.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what she meant.”
The crowd starts to thin as the initial celebration winds down, but Jeremy and Emma remain in the stands, clearly waiting for me to notice them. Emma waves when she sees me looking, her enthusiasm uncontainable even from fifty yards away.
“Go,” he says. “Go meet them. I’ll catch up with you after I deal with all the team stuff.”
“Come with me?”
“Are you sure? This is kind of a family moment.”
