Yet Dylan was so very much Leah’s. She didn’t know if she could share him with Sophie or stand for him to know she wasn’t who he’d always believed her to be.

Was it selfish of her to deprive Dylan of his blood sister? Or would that be somewhat acceptable in this case, because Dylan already had a sister? He couldn’t mourn the lack of Sophie, because he had no inkling that anyone was missing from his life.

It made her head hurt to wrestle with the ramifications of the choices before her. Which course was moral, right, compassionate?

She didn’t know.

As the service progressed, Leah noted every whisper, glance, and shift of position the Brooksides made.

Why had she and Sophie gone home in the arms of the wrong mothers all those years ago?

Nothing she’d uncovered so far had shed light on that issue.

Essentially, mathematics was the art of solving problems. While she pondered whether to reveal herself to Trina and Jonathan, she’d begin solving the problem at the heart of her switched-at-birth story.

What had gone wrong on the day of her birth?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

When Ben found out that Sebastian planned to spend the second weekend in October in Misty River, he’d asked Sebastian to help him chaperone his club’s fundraising table at the football game. Sebastian had said he would.

But his motives had not been pure.

The fundraising tables were positioned past the ticket booth. Spectators walked toward those tables before forking in two directions to take their seats. Dylan played football. Leah would probably come to the game to cheer for her brother. Based on the location of the tables, his chances of seeing her were excellent.

He was not a saint. Nor was he as good a friend as he wanted to be.

If Leah showed, he’d pay the price for his sins because talking with her tortured him as much as it pleased him. A smarter man, a man with more self-control, would have stayed away.

Ben had left the table to get the kids drinks, so Sebastian finished unloading T-shirts from a cardboard box. Straightening, his attention pulled toward the ticket booth—

Leah.

She’d hadn’t seen him yet.

A Misty River High pennant poked out of her purse, and she carried a padded bleacher seat over one arm. She’d dressed in a blue-and-gold football jersey, jeans, and slip-on sneakers. Once again, her hair looked like she’d ridden in a convertible. It curved close to the corner of her eye on one side and was tucked behind her ear on the other side. Her face was soft in the most appealing way. Quiet contours. No harsh angles. The pale pink of her lips complemented the pale pink of her cheeks.

Her vision dashed past him, then back.