Carter Reed 2(46)

“Oh.” I tensed immediately. “But her…”

“Emma,” he said quietly. His hand still held my arm, but he softened his hold and his thumb began rubbing back and forth. “Just be careful, okay?”

“Okay. Yeah.” I pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I will.”

I started to step back, but he caught the back of my head and pressed me to him again. One more kiss. One solid touch from him to me. This wasn’t about passion. It wasn’t even about comfort. This was a connection between us. I felt his need for me, and my own matched it, rising within me. It wasn’t sexual. It was primal. It was the need for both of us to be okay. My lips pressed back against him, tasting him, and then I leaned away, gazing up into his eyes.

I saw a bleakness there and my hand lifted, reacting to it. I hated seeing that. He shouldn’t feel that way, ever. I touched the side of his face to reassure him.

He nodded, but the bleakness didn’t leave.

I stepped inside to talk to my sister.





It was just her and me.

With the door closed, it felt like the outside world had been cut off. The room filled with questions, but one thing rose to the top. “Our mother?” I asked.

Her eyes widened. “Oh.”

I swallowed. “I mean, how is she?” Is she alive? Is she well? Does she know about me? So many more questions waited on the edge of my tongue, wanting to spill out. I gripped my arm and held tight, physically holding myself back.

“I—” She stopped. Her chest heaved up and down in a dramatic breath. “She’s…” She looked down for a second. “Dead. A car accident.”

I stepped back. I hadn’t expected that.

“She died when I was little,” Andrea continued. “I don’t remember a lot of it.” Her voice was strangled, and she dabbed at the corner of her eye again. “I was adopted when I was five—”

“You’re two years younger than me.” I would’ve been seven. I glanced at Carter. I didn’t meet him until I was eleven. That didn’t make sense.

“I remember you.”

“You do?”

She nodded. “I remember playing together. I liked to play with dolls. You hated dolls.”

“I did?” The side of my mouth lifted up.

“I think we played hide and seek in the house. You don’t remember?”

I frowned, shaking my head. “My past is cloudy. I don’t remember a lot.”

“I’m going to get you, girly!”

I shrieked, giggling as I ran away. “No, no, Mama!”

I shook my head. AJ’s face loomed over me next. “It’s dangerous.”

I focused back on Andrea. “I think I remember playing hide-and-seek with you, but then I remember AJ saying it was dangerous.” At the mention of my brother, a scowl formed on her face.

“AJ.” I frowned at her. “Our brother.”

“He’s not my brother, and he wasn’t yours either. He was your kidnapper.” Her eyes grew heated, and her arms crossed over her chest. “I can’t listen to you talk about him like that.”

My own eyes darkened. She couldn’t listen to me? “You might want to leave right now then. I don’t know what happened, but I remember my brother taking care of me, raising me, making sure I went to school every day. He made mistakes, but he loved me.”

Her lips pressed together and she went still, standing like a statue. “Then you and I have very different memories.”

This was insane. “You were young. Me, too. I don’t know what happened, but I should remember you. I don’t. There are lapses with both of us, but AJ did nothing except try to raise me right.”

She shook her head, blinking rapidly. “I know. I…” She let out a resigned breath. “I’m sorry. I…maybe we’re getting into too much too quickly? Maybe we should scale back. I mean—” A rueful laugh slipped out, and she gestured to Carter. “I never would’ve known about you if it weren’t for him. Carter Reed. You’re with Carter Reed. I saw you on television and fell off the couch.”

A ball of tension started to loosen inside me. She started to laugh, and I wanted to laugh with her. The DNA tests were done. This was my sister, no matter what. Whatever had happened in the past, whatever she felt about AJ, this was still my family.

As she continued talking, saying how she couldn’t believe it was me and had Kevin, her family friend, reach out to a private investigator, I realized I really did want to get to know her. She was different than me—I knew there were differences between us, but I felt a connection, too. She was like me in some ways. I wanted to find out all of them. I wanted to know everything.