Liam stared down at the letter in his hands.
“My dad is really gone?”
“Yes,” she said.
She handed me one last item.
A worn pregnancy test.
The one I had given Jordan all those years ago.
“He kept everything,” she said. “After our mother got sick, she gave the letters back. He was going to try again.”
That night, driving home, Liam fell asleep in the passenger seat, one hand resting on the box of letters.
At a red light, I looked over at him.
For the first time in eighteen years, I understood the truth.
I had spent nearly my entire adult life believing I was the girl who had been abandoned, the girl who wasn’t worth staying for.
