“We’re searching the forest,” I rasped, my throat raw. “Wanna help?”
“You bet I do,” she said, quickly grabbing her heavy coat.
“Lisa?” I asked, my tone dead flat.
“I’ll stay with the girls,” she mumbled, aggressively avoiding my gaze.
I just nodded, entirely unsurprised. Rachel and I jumped into my truck. As I threw the gearshift into drive, she casually picked up one of the missing person flyers off the passenger seat. She let out a sharp, sudden gasp.
“Ethan, Noah’s the absolute spitting image of Grandpa Joe! That teardrop birthmark on his cheek—it’s identical. Skipped a couple generations, huh?”
I slammed both feet on the brakes. The heavy truck violently lurched to a halt in the middle of the street.
“What’d you say?” I choked out.
Rachel blinked at me, totally confused by my reaction.
“Grandpa Joe, who died in World War II. Blond, blue eyes, same exact birthmark on his left cheek. You’ve seen the old family albums, right? Noah’s his twin.”
The realization hit me with the destructive force of a freight train. Sarah hadn’t betrayed me. Noah was my flesh and blood. I spun the steering wheel hard, tires screaming against the asphalt, and sped right back to the house.
I burst through the front door and locked eyes with Lisa. She visibly shrank back against the wall.
“They find Noah?” she asked, her voice shaking violently.
“No, but I found out exactly what you are,” I roared, stepping right into her space. “You lied about Sarah! You lied about Noah not being mine!”
All the blood drained from her face. “How’d you know?” she whispered weakly.
“Doesn’t matter. Why?” I demanded, my fists clenched so hard my knuckles popped.
“I love you, Ethan!” she cried out, tears finally spilling over. “I wanted you to let Sarah go, to start over with me. I didn’t want to raise Noah, I wanted our own kid. But you kept him!”
My hands trembled with a rage so pure I thought I might pass out. I wanted to tear the house down to its foundations, but I forced myself to turn away.
“Be gone when I get back,” I said, my voice dropping to a dead, icy calm. “Don’t ever come near my family again.”
I drove back to the forest line like a madman. As I sprinted toward the search grid, my heart hammered against my ribs. I saw a cluster of volunteers smiling, pointing toward a flashing ambulance parked on the dirt road. I ran so hard my lungs burned.
And there he was. Noah was sitting on the bumper, wrapped tightly in a thick wool blanket. His face was streaked with dirt and dried tears, his small hands clutching a half-eaten granola bar. He looked so fragile, so entirely lost, yet completely unharmed.
When he saw me running toward him, his bottom lip started to quiver uncontrollably. He braced himself, instinctively shrinking back as if expecting the usual wall of coldness or a harsh scolding for ruining his jacket.
“Dad, I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice impossibly small. “I tried to come back, but I got lost.”
I fell to my knees in the dirt, ignoring the sharp rocks tearing at my jeans. I scooped him into my chest, holding him so fiercely I thought I might break him. For the first time in seven years, I didn’t see a painful reminder of loss; I just saw my son.
“No, son, I’m sorry,” I sobbed, the tears pouring down my face faster than they had at Sarah’s funeral. “I’ve been a lousy dad. But that’s over now. I swear to you, it’s over.”
I buried my face in his messy blond hair, making a silent, unbreakable vow to the universe and to the wife I had mourned for so long. I was going to love this boy with the same fierce devotion I had for Mia and Ava. I was finally going to be the father he deserved all along.
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