“No.” Her eyes were still somber, so I bent lower to stare at her straight on.
“I thought, damn, she looks like the perfect storm.” Her face wrinkled up in confusion, and I realized that I was royally fucking this up. “Shit, that’s not what I meant. I think storms are beautiful. Chaotic. They’re filled to the brim with power and electricity. They spark change. They inspire new growth. Storms can be scary, but I love them,” I whispered.
And I think I’m starting to love you, I wanted to say, but for now, this metaphor would have to do.
She looked around for a moment before leaning up to slowly kiss me on the cheek. I closed my eyes like the simple peck was a blowjob. I was thoroughly fucked, and I didn’t even care. “I just thought you looked like a creeper,” she finally whispered while pulling away. I stared at her face as she started laughing in amusement.
“Punk,” I chided.
“Decker?” a familiar man’s voice said, making my stomach drop. I spun around, praying he didn’t see everything that had just transpired.
“Mr. Trask! So good to see you!” I said while stretching out my hand in greeting. Lance and Mrs. Trask started to descend the stairs at that moment.
“Good to see you too, son,” Mr. Trask said with a grin. He looked like he had gained some weight since the last time I’d seen him. He’d always had a ridiculous metabolism and looked skeletal. He had tan skin and brown eyes with balding gray hair on top of his head. “This must be Blakely, I presume?” he then asked while giving me a curious glance.
“It’s nice to meet you, sir,” Blakely replied on cue. I was starting to sweat from the nerves. It was hard keeping such a huge secret when all you wanted to do was scream it at the world. We all stood in the entryway for a moment, talking about our flight and the weather. I knew I should have gone next door to see my parents, but I didn’t want to. There would be no excited greeting from Mom. There would be no proud family dinner with us sitting at the dining room table and catching up. Dad liked to take us out to five-star restaurants and show off his happy little family to convince everyone the home intruder incident wasn’t his fault.
I wouldn’t eagerly go to my childhood bedroom to reminisce over my life. I wouldn’t watch television on the couch with Mom or talk sports with Dad.
The only family I had was Lance Trask. And now, Blakely.
The only place I wanted to be was here.
“Decker, go get that plate of food on the kitchen island. I made some healthy snacks for us. Let’s all stop standing around and go sit in the formal living room.”
“Yes, ma’am!” I replied. I didn’t want to leave Blakely for even a second, but she followed after Lance with her mouth dropped open in shock as she took in the home and all its pristine, beautiful decor. As I passed by on my way to the kitchen, I watched her settle on the couch next to Lance with an uncertain huff. Once in the kitchen, I quickly grabbed the tray. It looked like cucumber bites with cream cheese. It was so quintessentially Mrs. Trask.
By the time I made it back to the living room, Mrs. Trask was already bringing out the big guns of the conversation. “Blakely, I am so sorry it’s taken us this long to meet. Your mother requested a completely closed adoption. I wish I could have had the opportunity to know you.”
I winced before setting the tray down and sitting in one of the plush, cream accent chairs by the fireplace. “I didn’t even know I had a brother,” Blakely swallowed before eyeing the cucumber snack with trepidation. “Can you tell me your adoption story? I’ve been thinking about that lately.”
My brows went up in surprise at her question. Mrs. Trask smiled. Lance put his arm around Blakely’s shoulder and pulled her in for a small side hug. Mr. Trask just started stuffing his mouth with snacks, unencumbered by the heavy topic.
“Well, we knew early on in our marriage that pregnancy wasn’t something I wanted. Adoption had always been our goal, and when we put ourselves on the registry, Jonathan and I knew it would happen when it was meant to.”
Mrs. Trask’s eyes turned glassy with emotion as she stared lovingly at her son and husband. I’d always been jealous of their close-knit family. “We were on the list for almost seven years. In that time, Jonathan built up his career as a world-renowned heart surgeon. I built up my plastic surgery practice. We had a fulfilled life but were always waiting. It was like I knew this piece of my soul was out there just waiting for me. And then we got a call about a particular boy with a heart defect.”
I watched Blakely’s eyes snap to her brother’s. “You had a heart defect?”
Lance’s lips pulled into a straight line. He was never a fan of telling others about his heart problems. It was ironic to me that a man with one of the most giving hearts I’d ever known had a defective organ pumping blood throughout his body. “I had pulmonary valve atresia. Basically, there was a valve in my heart that didn’t form correctly. It required surgery soon after I was born.”
“Jonathan performed the surgery,” Mrs. Trask stated proudly. At the mention of his name, Mr. Trask’s head popped up, and he coughed with his mouth full, spewing crumbs everywhere. Mrs. Trask continued with an eye roll. “The agency your mother worked with was worried they wouldn’t be able to place him anywhere but remembered us. Two doctors seemed ideal for a baby that needed extra care.”
Blakely reached out to briefly squeeze Lance’s hand before turning to Mrs. Trask. “I’m really thankful you found each other,” Blakely said with a tight smile. “Is the heart defect genetic?”
Mrs. Trask looked nervous to answer, but I’d never known her to be dishonest. “It’s very commonly associated with fetal alcohol syndrome. We assume that Sharron also smoked while pregnant,” Mrs. Trask whispered.
I realized then that it was time to change the subject. Blakely was turning pale and looked like she wanted to vomit. “Lance, we should show Blakely the old treehouse,” I said with a smile, drawing the attention back to me.
Mrs. Trask joined in. “Decker Harris, I doubt you’d fit into the crawlspace to get up there.”
My lip tilted in amusement. “You’re probably right. How long ago did we build that?” I asked.
And just like that, everyone switched to lighter topics. Blakely engaged in conversation, but her eyes were always vacant. Everything that had happened the last few days was starting to pile up. I couldn’t imagine what she was feeling. Was it difficult to see the contrast between where Lance grew up and her own childhood?
But my girl—fuck, when did I start referring to her as my girl?
My girl smiled as she spoke, not once treading into the dangerous waters of what led us all here to this exact moment. I’d do everything I could to keep her from drowning.
23
Blakely
“Do you like to bake?” Mrs. Trask’s voice said from behind me. I’d retreated to the kitchen half an hour ago to shake the nerves in my bones. Being here, seeing Lance’s childhood home, it was messing with me.
I wasn’t jealous, though any sane person would be. I was happy that Lance was given such an incredible life. I liked Mrs. Trask, or Katy, as she insisted I call her. She was lovely, and even though Jonathan wasn’t very talkative, he was funny to watch. It was odd that someone so clumsy and goofy could perform such detailed surgeries.