Page 105 of Brittle Heart

“Hey, fuck, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have woken you,” I apologize.

“Carolina? What’s wrong?” Sophia asks, sounding more awake now.

“Did you see what the blood type was for the blood that was tested for my parents?” I ask her.

“Uhh… yes. I think they were both O positive, why?” she says.

“It’s not them!” I nearly yell.

“Lina, what do you mean?” she asks.

“It can’t be them! I don’t know what their blood type was since I never asked when I was a teen, but Chiara and I are both A positive.”

I hear some rustling on her end before she responds, “And are we sure you guys aren’t adopted or anything? I had this one guy in my biology class in high school who found out like this, he—”

“No, I’m sure. Chiara and I are spitting images of my mother. And I have enough of my father’s features to know he’s mine,” I tell her.

There’s a moment of silence on the other end before she speaks again. “So you think the case has been tampered with?”

“Yes! This is what I’ve been telling everyone for five years, and now there’s proof,” I exclaim, my emotions bouncing all over the place.

“Okay, don’t jump to conclusions just yet. I know you want this badly, but we need to stick to the facts,” she cautions. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow. I’ll check some things and maybe ask some colleagues for their input.”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“See you tomorrow, Lina.”

CHAPTERFORTY

Carolina

To avoid sitting on the cold concrete, I let my backpack fall to the ground before taking a seat. It’s lunchtime, but the winter chill is still in full force.

“I was at the shelter, and you weren’t there,” I say to Howie, handing him a burger package and a Coke.

“Thank you,” he replies, giving me a nod. “It may sound dumb, but I missed this place. The shelter is warm and all, but…”

“But it’s not home,” I finish his sentence.

He huffs. “Home is something I haven’t known for a long time.”

“Same,” I admit, and he glances over at me.

“How is your arm?” he asks.

“Better,” I reply with a slight shrug, trying to downplay the situation. However, the angry red hue of the skin around the cuts is hard to overlook. Despite my best efforts to protect the wounds, they seem to have become infected, making the area tender to the touch.

Changing the subject, I say, “I got my first paycheck last week. The NYPD pays well.”

“That’s nice, Lina. I’m proud of you. But you don’t have to get me a Coke just because you earn more now,” he says, taking a sip. “Although I do appreciate it.”

I smile. “I should get you something warm to drink in this cold weather, but you only like Coke, so…”

He chuckles, “It’s fine. But you didn’t tell me that to brag, did you?”

I smirk. “Maybe a bit. But no. They offered me a job after college, and if they pay their interns well, they’ll surely pay their full-time workers even better, right?”

“I still hear you just bragging. Justified and well-deserved, but what are you saying, kiddo?” Howie asks.

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