Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
“Does your mom know?” he demanded. “And how?”
“I ordered it online, and—” she started.
“Let me guess, scrolled a few years past your actual birthday?” he interjected, folding his arms across his chest. “This isn’t Seconds, Juniper.”
“If companies didn’t want kids to break the rules, they’d make them a lot harder to get past,” she countered, folding her arms in his mirror image. “I just stuck a cotton swab in my mouth and shipped it back.” She slid her phone out of her back pocket and opened an app, then showed it to Hudson. “See? And of course Mom doesn’t know. She’d lose it. She says I have to wait until I’m eighteen to find my birth family, which is totally unfair.”
“I never should have gotten you this phone,” Hudson muttered, taking the device and looking through the app.
“Like I wouldn’t have figured out another way? It’s not like the school library doesn’t have computers, and Uncle Gavin gave me a prepaid Visa card for Christmas.” She threw a glance my way every few words.
“Smart girl,” I admitted despite our current circumstances.
“I’m your girl.” Juniper stared up at me with complete and total certainty. “It makes sense. You gave me to your friend’s sister. Occam’s razor and all that.”
“Occam’s razor. They teach fourteenth-century philosophy in elementary school out here?” I asked Hudson.
He opened his mouth, but Juniper ran him right over.
“I’m in the gifted and talented program.” She enunciated every word, clearly insulted. “And it’s a really good school district, which is why Mom didn’t move inland with Grandma and Grandpa.”
“Noted.” I swiped my hand across my forehead to keep salt water from dripping from my hair into my eyes.
“Look, one of my friends was adopted too. We talk about it all the time, and obviously I know how to use the internet. Point is, I’m not mad at you for placing me for adoption—though I do have some questions that are statistically proven to help minimize the time I’ll need to spend in therapy.” She nodded. “And really, I love my mom; she’s pretty great other than not wanting me to dance, but if you tell her that I should, then she’ll listen to you.” The hope was back in her eyes.
My shoulders sagged, and I did the one thing I swore I’d never do again, and looked to Hudson for help.
His brow furrowed in the second our gazes locked, and then he sank to his knees in the grass and braced his hands on Juniper’s upper arms. “June-Bug, you know I’d never lie to you, right?”
“Right.” She glanced between us.
“Allie—Alessandra—isn’t your biological mother.” He delivered the blow gently, and a part of me that could have thrown him off the cliff a few minutes ago softened. “It would be impossible.”
“You don’t know that.” Her voice broke.
“I do.” He nodded. “Your birthday is May fourteenth, just a few days ago, and I saw her a couple of months before you were born. She was here for spring break, and she wasn’t pregnant.”
“Maybe you didn’t notice,” she argued, then looked up to me like I would correct him.
“I’ve never had a baby.” I shook my head slowly. “I’m so sorry, but I’m not who you’re looking for.”
“I don’t believe you.” Her brow knit, and red crept up her cheeks. “We have the same birthmark!”
“Stork bites are common—”
“And they can be genetic! I looked it up online!” She twisted out of Hudson’s hands and grabbed her backpack, yanking on the zipper. A few seconds later, she retrieved a softball-size white box wrapped in plastic. “Just take the test, and then I’ll believe you.” She held out the box to me. “It’s the fastest on the market. I checked.”
“I’m sure you did.”
“You can’t ask her to do that.” Hudson stood and swiped a hand through his hair.
Some nervous tells never changed. If he had his hat on, he’d be shaping the brim.
“She can’t say yes if I don’t ask. Isn’t that what you said?” She glared up at him.
Gravel crunched in the driveway, and we all turned in time to see Anne pull her blue Mercedes sedan into the carriage house.
I was so busted.
“So will you do it?” Juniper asked, undeterred by my sister’s arrival.
“How long have you been planning this?” Hudson asked her.
“Four months,” she replied, staring at me. “Will you do it?”
“I’m not your mother,” I said softly.
“Prove it.” She shook the box and I took it because it seemed like the only polite thing to do. Victory flared in her eyes, and I blinked, struck again by the weirdest sense of déjà vu. I had to have met this girl somewhere else.
“Absolutely not.” Hudson grabbed the box before I had a firm grip on it. “We’re done. Go get in the truck.”
“Uncle Hud—”
“Now, Juniper.” I knew that tone well. It left zero room for any argument, and from the immediate sag in her posture, she knew it.