Finding Me Page 8

  “I made an awful mistake. No one is you, babe. C’mon, Bella. It’s always been us. We belong together.”

  I had to laugh. How stupid did he think I was? “You mean now that Heather or whoever isn’t around, we belong together? It hasn’t always been us. You outgrew us, remember?”

  Christian let out a deep sigh and dragged his hand over his face. “I got carried away. I’m human, Bella.”

  “Wait a minute.” My brain tried to absorb what I just heard and my fists clenched in response. “You got carried away? You humiliated me and didn’t even have the decency to warn me first. I asked you about it and you acted as if I was wasting your precious time. No sorry, no goodbye. You knew the hell I was going through afterward and didn’t do a thing to stop it.”

  Christian rolled his eyes and darted his gaze away from me. “I don’t want to dwell on what went wrong with us.”

  “You’re what went wrong! We didn’t just have a little disagreement. You were cold and distant for weeks before that picture posted on Facebook—the one everyone saw before me. The only reason you’re here is because Heather or whoever is still up at your old school and probably moved on before you even left campus. Please just go. We have nothing to talk about.” I rubbed my now aching forehead and turned to head back in the house.

  Christian grabbed my wrist and shook his head. “Don’t you see? No one gets me like you do, Bella. I had to lose you to really see how much I loved you. You’re all I think about.” Christian cupped my cheek but I swatted his hand away.

  “Love to me is more than being someone’s last option. I’m with someone else now. I think you should go.”

  “Someone else? Where? Up in bumblefuck upstate where you go to school?” Christian snickered. “He’s probably with his real girlfriend now, anyway. Those kind of hookups aren’t real.”

  I glowered at Christian as I stepped closer. “Maybe your hookups aren’t real. But my time with Owen surpasses anything I ever had with you. We’re done. You need to leave.”

  I turned to go back inside when Christian moved in front of me to block my door. “No. We are not done. I love you, Bella. Doesn’t all the time we spent together mean anything to you?” Christian raked his hand over his buzzed hair. He was bigger since the last time I saw him, probably from all the hard labor he did these days to pay for his tuition.

  “No, Christian.” I pushed him out of the way. “It actually doesn’t. Have a good Christmas.” I opened the screen door and stepped back inside.

  I bumped into Dad fumbling in the coat closet next to the front door.

  “What are you doing in the closet?” I pulled my brow together as I gazed at him. For the first time since I could remember, he looked unsure of himself.

  “The news announced snow for tomorrow. Just getting my boots out so I don’t forget in the morning.”

  “You mean those boots?” I pointed to his Timberlands next to the front door.

  “Oh, that explains why I couldn’t find them.” He gave me a sly grin. Like I didn’t know he was eavesdropping on every word, waiting for the excuse to pummel Christian against the white Christmas lights on the railing.

  “Keep your day job, Dad. You’re a lousy actor.” I pursed my lips at him.

  “And you’re too smart for your own good.” Dad kissed my forehead and put his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s go back inside. You have a robot to finish.”

  My response to Marc’s email stayed in my drafts folder for two weeks. I’d rewritten the same three lines about six times.

  Marc,

  I do have a lot of questions, such as why it took you almost thirteen years to ask to see me. I get back to school on January 14. If you still want to meet me, we can talk about when and where.

  Bella.

  I sure as hell wasn’t calling him ‘Daddy’ and was having trouble figuring out how to start and end the message. ‘Hi’ and ‘Love, Bella’ seemed off. ‘Sincerely’ was too formal for someone who shared half your DNA. I tried telling Mom and Dad a dozen times about Marc contacting me, but I didn’t want to upset either of them. It felt like sneaking behind their backs, but I didn’t want their reactions to cloud my judgment. I was the one with the permanent connection to this man, and it was my choice whether I spoke to him or not. Unfortunately, it was a choice I couldn’t seem to make.

  The Skype icon bounced on my screen as the familiar chime sounded from my laptop. I clicked on the incoming call and lay back on my bed.

  “Hey, gorgeous. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Owen laid back on his bed in the exact same position I was in, only shirtless. My HD laptop screen made every bicep and ab appear with flawless clarity. Sweet Jesus.

  “Right back at you. Run out of clean shirts?”

  Owen chuckled and tucked his arm behind his head. “Nope, just thought I could encourage you to lose your shirt, too.”

  “My family doesn’t respect privacy boundaries like yours does. Last thing I need is my little brother storming in asking why I have my shirt off.”

  “What’s wrong?” Owen pursed his lips and leaned forward towards the screen.

  “What? Nothing’s wrong.”

  Owen shook his head and raised an eyebrow. “I can tell when something is wrong—you have the face.”

  I crinkled my nose at the screen. “The face? I have a noise and a face now?”

  Owen smirked with a shrug. “You tend to hold my undivided attention so, I notice these things. You get this little line in between your eyebrows when you worry.” Owen’s index finger pointed at the screen. “You had it when I first met you, when you were trying so hard to pretend you didn’t like me, and then all through midterms and finals. But, you didn’t have it when I left you.” The smile faded from his face as he narrowed his eyes at me. “Did something happen when you got home?”

  My indecision about whether to reply to Marc was taxing as hell. But I didn’t want to say it out loud to anyone. Even Owen.

  “Yeah, but it’s a long story. Family stuff.”

  “So talk to me.”

  My eyes darted away. This was something only I understood, and only I could decide. Until I figured it out, the knots would grow and tighten in my stomach, but no one could help me. I was in a lonely and aggravating place in my head.

  “I’m not just eye candy, you know.”

  I burst out laughing and shook my head at the exaggerated pout on Owen’s face. “I know. You’re much more to me than just that.”

  Owen’s smile grew wide as he nodded. “Right back at you. Hey, would taking off my pants make you feel better? Because I’d do that for you.” He stood and dropped the laptop on his bed. The camera was in line with the waistband of his gray sweat shorts. My breath caught when he hooked his thumbs on either side as if he was about to yank them down.

  “No, no. That’s fine. Owen, stop!”

  Owen knelt on the side of his bed and rested his elbows on the edge. “Hey, it worked for a minute.” He nodded at the screen. “The face went away.”

  “I really have a face?” I giggled.

  Owen laughed back. “You wear the weight of the world on your shoulders sometimes. Why I act like a clown just to make you laugh.”

  I laughed and shook my head. “You’re such an—”

  “Ass I know. I like making you smile. It’s a thing I have. But you feel just a little better, right? I helped?”

  He did make it better. He made me forget for just a moment, and my insides turned to mush at how from hundreds of miles away he could read me so well.

  “You make everything better. Why I keep you around.” I gave him a big smile as he beamed back at me.

  “I’m here if you change your mind.”

  I traced the outline of his chin on my screen as I let out a deep sigh. “I know.”

  “If I was there, I’d kiss you until you felt better.”

  I chuckled. “Can I get a rain check on that?”

  The side of Owen’s lips ticked up in a smirk and he threw me a wink. �
��Always, City.”

  “Is it January fourteenth yet?”

  “I wish. And you’re staying with me that night.”

  I shook my head. “Andy and Ethan will be home. They’ll … hear us.”

  “Well, then … you need to learn to be quiet.”

  “Bella!” My mother’s voice drifting up the stairs broke our sexy mood.

  “I better go, I think dinner’s ready. I’ll be on later.”

  “Okay. Speak to you tonight. Can I at least get a tank top? Cute little shorts? Give me something for Pete’s sake.”

  “We’ll see. I’ll make it a surprise.”

  “I miss you so much. I can’t wait to actually touch you.” Even over Skype, Owen’s fiery gaze made my stomach flop.

  “Right back at you.” I grinned and closed the laptop before heading downstairs to dinner.

  Joey turned to me with a mouthful of mashed potatoes when I slid into my seat at the table.

  “We have one more LEGO set to put together.”

  I shook my head at my baby brother and laughed. I built more LEGO projects in the past couple of weeks than in my entire childhood. “Don’t you have homework this vacation?”

  “Nope!” Joey folded his arms with his nose in the air. “All done. I did a family tree!”

  “You did? Very cool!” I loaded up my plate as Joey nodded at me.

  “Yep. I can show you. I have pictures and everything!” Joey’s baby blue eyes twinkled as he chomped on a piece of bread.

  “I’d love to see it! You can show me later.”

  “Do you ever see your real dad?”

  My fork stilled in my hand and I tried to figure out how to answer.

  “Just eat your dinner.” Mom gazed over at Joey as her eyes darted to me.

  “My friend Dominic has two dads.” Joey went on, ignoring our mother. “He has a dad he lives with and one he sees on Saturdays. He gets two Christmases and two birthdays! He even makes two different Christmas lists.” He turned to me with wide eyes. “Do you make two lists?”

  I let out a sad chuckle. Two Christmas lists? I didn’t even get a card from Marc. Dominic was a lucky little boy. He had a father who made sure to stay in his life and make things special. I laughed at the sting of jealousy I felt for a seven-year-old.

  “I don’t see him for Christmas, Joey. I actually haven’t seen him since I was a little younger than you.”

  “But he’s your real dad. Why don’t you see him?”

  “I’m Bella’s real dad,” Dad grumbled from across the table. “Just eat, Joe.”

  I glanced at my little brother and my parents. His questions came from a simple place, but were on point. Why wouldn’t my father want to see me? I didn’t quite get it either.

  The blood in my veins didn’t change because Lucas acted more like my father than Marc did. At the end of the day, I was Marc’s daughter and Joey was Lucas’s son. As much as our parents tried to dance around what he asked, the truth stayed the same.

  We ate the rest of our dinner in silence. I didn’t look up, even though I felt the eyes of both my parents on me the entire time. Anytime the subject of Marc came up, my parents shut it down quickly, and then completely ignored that it was brought up in the first place. Joey wasn’t the only one in this house still treated like a baby.

  After clearing the dishes off the table, I headed straight for my room and finally made the decision I’d been putting off for weeks. It was time to face where I really came from and get some answers. I opened my email, headed to my drafts folder, and sent the email to Marc.

  My head turned to the soft knock at the door. I closed my laptop and quickly set it on my nightstand. It didn’t feel I was doing anything wrong speaking to Marc anymore, but I hated the secrecy of it.

  “Come in!” I folded my legs under me and kept my head down. I was just as uneasy about Joey’s questions, but dodging them—like they’d dodged mine for years—was pointless and insulting.

  “Hey, Butterfly. Can I sit?”

  I nodded silently as Dad perched on the edge of my bed.

  “Joey didn’t mean anything. He’s too young to understand.”

  I huffed and met his gaze. “No, I think he understands perfectly. It’s you guys that like to pretend.”

  “Pretend how, Bella?” His eyes narrowed at me and his jaw clenched.

  “Marc is my father. Joey is your son. I’m not your kid and you aren’t my real father. It’s a simple truth. Why is it such a taboo subject in this house?”

  Dad blinked before his face fell. It killed me to cut him to the quick, but it was the truth. It didn’t matter how much I wished I was really his daughter, or that I secretly wrote my name as ‘Isabella Hunter’ when I was little. Biology is definite, just like numbers. You can’t manipulate it to get a different answer.

  “Is … that what you really think?” His voice was soft as he gazed at me with glossy blue eyes—the same blue eyes that Joey had. Not the shit brown ones my real father gave me.

  I answered with a shrug and looked away. He stood from my bed and left my room. A lone tear streamed down my cheek; I bit my lip to keep it from trembling. Facing the truth really sucked sometimes.

  I was surprised to see him come back in, holding his wallet and a shoebox. He lay both on the bed and motioned for me to scoot over so he could sit.

  “I don’t think I ever showed you the pictures I kept in my wallet.” Dad unsnapped the worn brown leather and flipped to the inside. There was a picture of him, Mom, and me from their wedding day followed by a picture of both of us from the rear when I was about five years old.

  “I don’t remember this one. Is that the Butterfly Garden?” I could tell by the oversized caterpillar statue I loved to sit on every time we went to the Bronx Zoo.

  “That is the first day we met. Your mom snapped that picture because she said you took my hand, walked away, and we ignored her for the next hour.”

  I remembered meeting Lucas for the first time at the zoo all those years ago. Mom said I made him stay in the Butterfly Garden for hours and he called me Butterfly ever since.

  “I’m surprised you still have it.” The next picture was Joey’s newborn photo. He was swaddled in the typical blue striped hospital blanket with sandy brown wisps of hair sticking out from his cap.

  “I always keep these three pictures with me because they were the three best days of my life.” He swallowed as he put the wallet aside and opened up the shoebox. I recognized some old pictures I’d drawn and some more photos. “This was the night I took you to the father/daughter dance when you were a Daisy scout.”

  I smiled at my blue velvet dress and Mary Jane shoes. “I remember that dress. Why did you keep the pictures I drew?”

  Dad shrugged. “When you have kids, you’ll understand. Your teacher gave me these the night of the dance. This picture is of us when I taught you to swim, and this one is just of me and why I was your favorite person. I used to keep them up in my office but when you left for school, I took them down and kept them here.”

  I squinted my eyes at him. “Why did you do that?”

  He shrugged back with a sad laugh. “I guess I’m getting sentimental in my old age. I understood why you wanted to go so far from home, but I missed you. This was the night you went from being a little girl I loved to my daughter—and you’ve been my daughter ever since.”

  Guilt tore apart my insides as I gazed at the hurt on his face. Every skinned knee, every school play, every heartache, he was always right by my side—and made it clear there was nowhere else he’d rather be. Maybe I didn’t have his last name, but I had his heart; a heart I just crushed.

  Oversized tears streamed down my cheeks as I leaned forward and cried into his chest. “I’m so sorry, Dad.” I was sorry. I’d always hate that I’d never have the biological connection with Lucas I’d craved ever since I could remember. My recent contact with Marc only made that all the more raw. The resentment of being a Christensen and not a Hunter made me overlook the one
connection I did have with Lucas. He’d always loved me as his own, and that was the only one that ever mattered.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” Dad murmured as he rubbed my back. “Don’t cry.” He pulled back and wiped my tears away with his thumbs. “But, please, don’t ever say you aren’t mine.”

  I nodded and he kissed my forehead. “And come downstairs. You’ll be back at school soon enough. When you aren’t Skyping what’s his name you can spend time with your family.”

  I laughed and wiped the wetness off my face with the back of my hand. “Owen, Dad.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” He gave me a wink before he stood. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Dad. I’ll be right down.” Dad gave me a small smile and left the room.

  I hated that I hurt him, and hated that in spite, I opened up a Pandora’s Box that would hurt him even more.

  I was the naïve one. There were no simple truths.

  Owen

  “MY BABY BOY IS TWENTY-ONE! Where did the time go?”

  I smirked at my mother as she planted a kiss on my forehead at the dinner table. She was a little bit of a thing; I passed her in height by the time I entered middle school. But, that didn’t matter. Since I was their only child, I was still her baby boy. Both Mom and Dad spoiled me in different ways, but the dimples only worked with Mom.

  Our house was huge, much too big for only the three of us. It left little doubt that more children were planned, but never came. It was something they didn’t discuss, and the extra rooms served as dens, exercise rooms, and offices. My friends always joked about having parties in our mansion. Mom pushed for a twenty-first birthday party here, begging for months and promising they’d spare no expense. Dad, with all his grumbling, would look the other way at us drinking as long as we kept it contained and no one drove home. A year ago, I would have said yes without question. This house would be packed to the gills with people and a thumping bass of music all night long. Now, however, I wasn’t feeling it. The one person I wanted to share my birthday with was on the other end of the Eastern Seaboard.

  “Stop fussing over him, Caroline,” Dad growled but gave me a smirk. “Your baby boy is a young man. No sense in coddling him.”