Chapter 1
I thought the hardest part of prom night would be getting my father to approve of my boyfriend.
I was wrong.
The real nightmare began when Dad looked at Marcus for the first time and dropped the glass in his hand.
It shattered across our kitchen floor.
Marcus and I both jumped.
“Dad?”
He didn't answer me.
He just stared.
Marcus shifted awkwardly beside me in his black suit, one hand still holding the small box containing my corsage.
I had warned him my father could be intimidating.
I hadn't warned him that Dad might look at him like he'd seen a ghost.
“Mr. Bennett?”
Marcus gave a nervous smile.
“I'm Marcus Hale.”
Dad's face went pale.
Not slightly pale.
Completely drained.
His eyes moved over Marcus's face.
His forehead.
His jaw.
Then his eyes stopped near Marcus's left eyebrow.
Marcus had a tiny crescent-shaped scar there.
He had told me he'd gotten it falling from a bicycle when he was five.
Dad lifted one shaking hand.
“Where did you get that scar?”
Marcus frowned.
“Bike accident.”
My excitement disappeared.
“Dad, what's going on?”
He ignored me.
“What is your mother's name?”
Marcus glanced at me.
I shrugged helplessly.
“Rachel Hale.”
The moment he said it, Dad grabbed the kitchen counter.
I heard him whisper something.
“No.”
My chest tightened.
“What?”
Dad looked at Marcus again.
“Rachel Anne Hale?”
Marcus's smile vanished.
“Yes.”
“How do you know my mom?”
Dad didn't answer.
Instead, he walked out.
“Dad!”
He disappeared down the hallway toward his bedroom.
Marcus turned to me.
“Is he okay?”
“I don't know.”
That was the truth.
My father, David Bennett, was not a dramatic man.
He was the kind of person who could receive terrible news, sit down quietly, and start making a plan.
My mother used to joke that if the house caught fire, Dad would calculate the shortest exit path before remembering to panic.
But now I could hear drawers opening in his bedroom.
Something fell.
A cabinet door slammed.
Marcus whispered, “Maybe I should leave.”
“No.”
I grabbed his hand.
“Not until he explains.”
Dad returned carrying an old photograph.
His hand trembled so badly that the picture shook.
He placed it on the kitchen island.
Marcus looked down.
Then froze.
“Oh my God.”
I leaned closer.
The picture was faded.
A young woman stood beside a younger version of my father.
She had long dark hair.
A bright smile.
Her arm wrapped around his waist.
Marcus pointed.
“That's my mom.”
My stomach dropped.
I looked at Dad.
He closed his eyes.
The photograph looked at least twenty years old.
Dad looked barely older than Marcus.
Rachel looked young too.
Happy.
Very close to him.
“What is this?”
My voice sounded smaller than I wanted.
Dad pulled out a chair and sat.
“Emily…”
“No.”
Something in his tone frightened me.
“Just tell me.”
Marcus remained completely still.
Dad looked at him.
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“When is your birthday?”
“August twelfth.”
Dad's face changed again.
I felt Marcus's hand tighten around mine.
“Why does his birthday matter?”
Dad pressed both palms against the table.
“Because I knew Rachel.”
Marcus stared.
“How?”
Dad looked at me first.
Then Marcus.
“We were together.”
Silence.
My mind rejected the words.
“What do you mean together?”
Dad swallowed.
“We dated.”
Marcus gave a short nervous laugh.
“My mom never mentioned you.”
“I wouldn't expect her to.”
“Why?”
Dad looked down.
“Because we didn't end well.”
I pulled out a chair.
My legs suddenly felt weak.
“When?”
“Eighteen years ago.”
Marcus stopped breathing.
I heard it.
He released my hand.
“No.”
Dad looked up.
“We were together for almost a year.”
“No.”
Marcus backed away.
“My dad is Michael Hale.”
Dad's expression softened painfully.
“Is he?”
Marcus stared at him.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Marcus.”
I reached for him.
He stepped away from me too.
Dad stood.
“Your mother and I broke up in November.”
He swallowed.
“The following August…”
Nobody needed him to finish.
Nine months.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I looked at Marcus.
Then my father.
Same dark brown eyes.
I had never noticed.
Why would I?
Marcus had always seemed like Marcus.
But now that Dad stood beside him, every similarity screamed at me.
The shape of their mouths.
The way one eyebrow lifted when they were confused.
Even the dimple on only the right side when Marcus smiled.
I had that dimple too.
I felt sick.
“No.”
I whispered it.
Then louder.
“No.”
Dad reached for me.
I moved away.
“You're saying Marcus could be…”
I couldn't finish.
My boyfriend.
The boy I had been dating for seven months.
The boy I had kissed.
The boy I had planned to dance with tonight.
My brother.
Marcus shook his head violently.
“This is insane.”
Dad nodded quickly.
“Yes.”
Marcus stared at him.
Dad corrected himself.
“I mean, we don't know anything.”
“You just implied you're my father!”
“I said it's possible.”
“Possible?”
Marcus's voice rose.
“You can't say something like that and call it possible!”
I started crying.
I didn't even realize it until tears hit my dress.
Tonight had been supposed to be simple.
Pictures.
Prom.
Dancing.
Maybe staying out too late.
Instead, my entire life had tilted.
Dad rubbed both hands over his face.
“I never knew Rachel was pregnant.”
Marcus looked furious.
“She wasn't alone.”
“What?”
“My dad raised me.”
“I understand.”
“No, you don't.”
Marcus's eyes filled.
“Michael Hale is my father.”
Dad nodded slowly.
“Then I hope he is.”
The front door opened.
My mother walked in carrying a garment bag.
“Emily, I found the shawl you wanted and—”
She stopped.
Mom looked at the broken glass.
At me crying.
At Marcus.
Then at the photograph.
Her face changed.
“David?”
Dad closed his eyes.
Mom stared at the picture.
“You kept that?”
I looked at her.
“You know?”
Another silence.
My chest tightened.
“You knew about Rachel?”
Mom placed the garment bag down.
“I knew your father dated someone before me.”
“Did you know her name?”
“Yes.”
Marcus whispered, “This can't be happening.”
Mom looked at him closely.
The moment she really saw his face, her expression shattered.
“Oh my God.”
That was the worst reaction possible.
I turned away.
“I need air.”
Dad followed me toward the door.
“Emily.”
“Don't.”
“We need to wait for facts.”
I spun around.
“You should have had facts seventeen years ago!”
His face tightened.
“I didn't know.”
“How do you not know someone you dated had a baby nine months later?”
“She left town.”
Marcus snapped.
“My mother didn't leave town. She moved thirty minutes away.”
Dad stared at him.
That clearly surprised him.
“She told me she was moving to Chicago.”
“Well, she lied.”
Marcus pulled out his phone.
“What are you doing?”
I asked.
“Calling her.”
Dad moved.
“Marcus, maybe we should—”
“No.”
Marcus's voice became cold.
“You've had eighteen years to wonder.”
He pressed his mother's contact.
“I'm not waiting another minute.”
Rachel answered on the fourth ring.
“Hey, honey. Prom pictures already?”
Marcus looked at Dad.
Then me.
His voice shook.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“Do you know a man named David Bennett?”
Silence.
So complete I heard the refrigerator humming.
Marcus's face collapsed.
“Mom?”
Rachel finally breathed.
“Where are you?”
Marcus looked directly at my father.
“At his house.”
A sharp inhale came through the speaker.
Then Rachel said three words.
“Don't leave there.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“Why?”
May you like
Her voice broke.
“Because I should have told you years ago.”
