Chapter 2 - The Man Mom Said Was Dead
Gary recovered first.
“Get out.”
The stranger didn’t move.
“This isn’t your house.”
Gary’s jaw tightened.
“It is now.”
The man looked past him toward Mom.
“Is that what you told them, Diane?”
I turned sharply.
Mom’s name was Diane.
Very few people called her that anymore.
“Mom, who is he?”
She wouldn’t look at me.
Gary stepped forward.
“You need to leave.”
The stranger reached slowly into his jacket.
Gary flinched.
But he only pulled out a folded photograph.
He placed it on the kitchen table.
I stared.
Mom.
Much younger.
Holding a baby.
Beside her stood the stranger.
And in his arms—
another baby.
Twins.
I looked at Ethan.
Then myself.
No.
The dates didn’t fit.
The stranger pointed at the baby Mom was holding.
“That’s Brooke.”
The room disappeared around me.
“What?”
Mom finally spoke.
“Don’t.”
I looked at her.
“Is that me?”
She closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
My knees went weak.
Gary swore under his breath.
The stranger continued.
“And I’m Michael Reeves.”
The name hit me strangely.
Not familiar.
But not entirely unknown either.
Then I remembered.
A locked drawer in Mom’s bedroom.
Old insurance paperwork.
A death certificate.
MICHAEL REEVES.
Deceased.
Seventeen years earlier.
I stared at him.
“You’re dead.”
His expression changed.
“No.”
I looked at Mom.
“You told me my father died before I was born.”
Silence.
Michael looked devastated.
“She told you I was your father?”
I could barely speak.
“Are you?”
Mom finally snapped:
“Enough!”
Ethan grabbed my hand.
Gary moved toward the phone.
Michael blocked him.
“Don’t touch anything.”
Gary laughed.
“You think you can walk in here after seventeen years?”
Michael’s voice dropped.
“I’ve spent seventeen years trying to find them.”
My blood ran cold.
“Them?”
He looked at me.
Then Ethan.
“You and your brother.”
I stared.
“Ethan is my brother.”
“Yes.”
Michael’s eyes moved to Mom.
“But not in the way she told you.”
Mom’s face collapsed.
Gary suddenly lunged for the photograph.
Michael caught his wrist.
“Don’t.”
Gary froze.
I saw fear again.
Real fear.
Then Michael looked directly at me.
“Brooke, your mother didn’t tell you I died because she was grieving.”
May you like
He took a breath.
“She told you because she needed you to stop looking for me.”
