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No.My courage curls into a ball. I am not havingthatconversation right now, and certainly not with a girl I barely know.
The infusion of strength that flooded me after sharing with John rolls out like a tidal wave that’s done its thing and shifted back to sea. I brandish my hand, and, sorry, but I glare her into silence.
She shrivels back into her seat and doesn’t say another word for the rest of the drive.
Chapter 29
Hollie
The list of helps John has provided me since we met is about to reach a second page.
I’m certain he anticipated my dread of dropping Reagan at her house. I worried the entire drive if her mother would berate me. For all I know, she would have had John not stood like a rock by my side. If she had gripes, his presence shut them down.
Once we leave the Boswell home, the morning sun bright and unwarrantedly cheerful, he slips into persuasion mode, laying out a convincing argument for Jacob and me staying with him until Monday, after the police interview, when, hopefully, we have a better read on the whole threat situation.
My answer comes easily. Yes.
John could become a fixture in my life if I’m not careful.
Caution is overrated, I’m coming to learn. I’ve lived nearly my entire life that way, and I’m exhausted.
When we arrive at his home, he tells Jacob to use the guest room, says he’s not a daytime sleeper no matter how lousy the prior night was.
Jacob thanks him politely, then turns to me. “We need to talk, Mom.” He’s not disrespectful, just adamant.
The knot in my stomach cinches down, like someone’s pulling both ends of the rope. The cocking of John’s knee and the narrowing of his gaze show his disapproval—but this conversation is long overdue.
Nowit is.
I follow Jacob into the guest bedroom, praying all the way.
∞∞∞
An hour later, I release a long, long breath. The deed is done. Jacob knows the truth. Well, he’s known for a few weeks, turns out. Now, he has finally heard it from me, the person who should have told him about his history in the first place.
After I finished my abbreviated-as-much-as-possible story, Jacob delivered absolution.“I understand now why you lied to me when I was little…and I forgive you.”
The conversation ranked as pretty much the second-worst experience of my life.
But it’s done.
“I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“I really do get it, Mom. But I still wish you’d been honest.”
Does he realize what that would have meant? Andwhen? When he was in second grade and cornered me with a direct question on the car ride home from school? When he was eleven and his innocent self was slowly learning the ways of the world?
Once he quit asking, I couldn’t have broached the subject if I’d wanted to. I counted my lucky stars that the questions had stopped.
But now…now, I’ll no longer exist under the fear that our relationship teeters on the precipice of the truth.
I also know how he found out. Clever kid. A box-DNA test. Mailed results and online research. Naturally, his genetically-linked DNA was in the system, and his procreator was all over the news once upon a time. Finding information was sadly simple.
I press my fingers to my forehead.Ugh. How did I never consider the possibility?
Well. The test did my job for me, and then I came along for the cleanup. Jacob’s behavior shift this fall has come into stunning focus.
For now, there’s relief, yet the future feels fuzzy. He bristled at the suggestion of counseling. I don’t see how he can’t need it.
