Page 27 of Finding Their Place

Lionel’s smile flatlined, worry pulling his eyes into a frown at my lack of greeting. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” I bit the word out, my chest aching, blunt fingernails digging into my palms at my sides.

Tina came into the living room, drying her hands on a dish towel. The light in her eyes at seeing me faded just as quickly without doubt from the unease that had to radiate off me like blinding sun rays. “Wyatt? What are you doing here?”

“Did you lie to me? This whole time? My entire fucking life?” My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard.

I rarely cursed in front of them—color leeched from Tina’s face.

“What’s going on?” She glanced at Lionel before turning back toward me and closing the distance between us. “Wyatt?”

I held up my shaking hand to stop her from entering my personal space, nausea rising up the back of my throat. “That’s not the name I was given at birth, is it?” I barely managed to rasp out.

Tina swayed, the towel dropping from her hands, and Lionel got up from his chair to grasp her elbow before she fell over.

“Sit,” he murmured, leading her to the couch. He settled beside her, clutching her hand. Both had paled, their eyes gone wide.

Their immediate lack of denial twisted my insides into a tight knot, and I clenched my jaw to keep from cursing again. The sense of betrayal rose to choke me. Anger, bright and life-giving lit inside me, and I grabbed hold of it so I wouldn’t break down.

Armor of anger.

I had a deeper understanding of Haley in that moment and couldn’t fault her for clinging to an emotion that would keep her head afloat.

Lionel swallowed audibly and found his voice first. “Your mom couldn’t have children—”

“Tina’s not my mom!” I snapped out, uncaring of being insensitive.

“How can you say that?” Tina cried, but Lionel shushed her, pulling her against his side.

“We tried for over ten years and couldn’t conceive. Adoption was our only final option.”

I’d been a last choice for them.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Wetness gathered in my eyes, hazing the vision of them, and I clenched my fists tighter to keep from breaking down.

“You were—are—our son regardless of our not sharing blood. We didn’t want you to deal with the trauma that I did as a child.”

I reeled back like I’d been slapped. How many secrets had they kept from me? “You were adopted too?”

Lionel nodded.

“The fuck?” I tipped my head back to escape their stares, blinking away tears and taking note of the popcorn ceiling Lionel and I had repainted over the winter. We’d laughed. Drank beers. Dripped one too many splotches of white on Tina’s hardwood floors we’d installed three years earlier. Even though weight lay heavy on my shoulders, it felt like I free-fell through uncertainty. “I—I can’t process this… Fuck.”

I lowered my focus onto the two people I had trusted the most and inhaled until it hurt. “Were you aware I had a twin sister?” I asked, my voice no more than a ragged whisper.

They shared a look, and the agony on their faces said it all. That ache in my chest turned to a twisting knife, and I swallowed hard.

“You fucking lied to me.” My inhale stuttered on a near sob. “I—I don’t even know who the hell I am anymore.”

“You’re our son,” Tina cried, tears rolling down her cheeks.

On paper. I wanted to lash out but couldn’t find my voice through the thickness closing off my throat.

“Wyatt—please.” Lionel motioned toward the recliner he’d vacated to comfort his wife.

He’d chosen her, caring for her emotions over mine.

My thoughts, my feelings, scattered on a brisk breeze. I had to leave before I lost my shit.

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