The moment I slip into traffic, my thoughts spiral. I’ve done just fine not knowing all these years. Do I really want to change that now? Even if she is really my mother, that doesn’t mean we’ll suddenly be family.
I inhale sharply and release a long breath. Fifteen years ago, I would have ripped that envelope open without a second thought. Today, I’m not so sure. I am in a good place in my life. Well—Iwas. Things are different now.
A few minutes later, I reach their building, find a guest parking space, and take the elevator up. I leave the envelope—and that tormenting choice—in my car for later. I have to think about it some more.
“He’s alive!” Adler shouts when he opens the door, immediately pulling me into a hug.
“Can’t breathe,” I choke out, and he lets me go.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Froggy.”
I step inside and follow him into the large living area. If you didn’t already know a hockey player lived here, you’d be in the loop by now—framed jerseys line one wall, a couple of signed sticks are mounted like art, and a puck collection is displayed with far more care than most people give to family photos. I guess that’s what you get when a hockey couple decorates their home.
The space opens naturally into the kitchen, where Miles is flipping pancakes on a large griddle, the aroma of pan-fried dough warm and familiar.
“Hey! It’s about time. Where have you been, man?” Miles asks over his shoulder.
I shrug and sit at the bar. “Where’s Marissa?”
“At work.” He flips two pancakes with practiced ease.
“How are you?” Adler asks, sitting next to me.
I don’t reply, serving myself a glass of orange juice instead.
“Hope you guys are hungry,” Miles says, grabbing plates and stacking three pancakes on each.
“You’ve been MIA because of Harper, right?” Adler prods as Miles sets the plates down and joins us at the bar.
Just hearing her name makes my heart jolt. I wish I could erase the last few days. Wake up and realize this was just a long, messed-up dream.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I mutter, shoving a forkful of pancake into my mouth. It’s fluffy, buttery—comforting in a way I didn’t know I needed. I wolf it down like I haven’t eaten properly in days. Which isn’t far from the truth. I couldn’t even bring myself to eat my favorite snack to numb the pain.
“Bro, you’re scaring us,” Miles says after a beat. “You’re not hanging out. You’re not calling us back. You just announce your breakup and then go radio silent. What happened? Things seemed to be going great.”
“Yeah,” Adler adds. “Harper is a cool girl.”
I snort. “She’s a liar. That’s what.”
They exchange a look, the room going quiet.
“What do you mean?” Miles asks carefully.
I dart my eyes around the room, searching for a way out.
“Come on, man. We won’t back down until we know the truth,” Adler says, crossing his arms like he’s reading my mind.
I sigh. After another bite, I wipe my mouth and then set my fork down. “Fine.”
With that, I dive into the bitter story. How that woman, Helen, came to DC claiming to be my mother. How I specifically told Harper to let it go, and how she still investigated behind my back.
“Whoa, that’s dark,” Adler says, eyes widening. “She went a bit too far, I guess.”
“A bit too far?” I snap. “She literallystoleDNA from me.”
“But did she figure out the truth?” Miles asks quietly. “Is that woman your real mom?”
The room goes deathly quiet again, and they both watch me, waiting.
