Heidi unfolds her skinny limbs like a praying mantis and stands. “I’d like you to leave. Now.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

Thomas

I have to steer Sylvie through the living room and out Heidi’s front door. It closes firmly behind us. The bolt scrapes into place.

Furious, she shakes off my hands. “Fuck you!” She stalks toward the car. The guy trimming his hedges looks over.

“Fuck me?” I say, voice low. “You just blew us out of the water. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you did it on purpose!” She whirls. Moose growls, half his body now out the window. Great. Cerberus is going to attack me.

“Stay,” Sylvie tells her dog. “I did it on purpose? For the past forty-eight hours I’ve been picked at like I’m roadkill. I’ve had to defend what I do, who I am, while you and my parents sit on thrones like the arbiters of morality. Who are you to judge me?”

The man in the next yard has given up his work and now watches us. Pretty soon he’s going to call the cops. “Sylvie, calm down—”

“Calm down? I’ve had to beg for information at DHS about my life. MY life! Smile, cajole, and wheedle for the chance to find out who I was before my adoption—”

“I don’t—”

“That woman KNOWS. She knows what happened to me,” Sylvie says, jabbing her finger toward the house. “She knows what happened to my real parents. And she won’t tell me. That’s not fair! She has no right to keep my past from me! It’s MINE.”

The guy now has his phone out. I’m not sure if he’s taking a video or calling the police. “Sylvie, we need to get out of here,” I say with a nod at him.

She ignores me, face red, eyes wild. “How do you think it feels to want to know about my past and at the same time be terrified of what I’ll find?”

“I never—”

“That’s right! You’ve never put yourself in my shoes. Did you ever consider that something horrific might’ve happened to me? I could’ve been abused, molested, raped! Maybe I don’t recall it because remembering could seriously screw me up!”

Sylvie pants like she’s run a race, fists ready to hit something, someone. I close the distance between us. Blows rain against my chest. When they weaken, I pull her close. She struggles for a second then goes slack, her face pressed against me.

Voice muffled by my down jacket, she says, “Mom thinks I’m literally going to hell. Dad is ashamed. I loved them, still do, but I’m not allowed to exist, be their daughter, unless I choose their world. But their world isn’t right for me. I don’t fit.”

I hold her tight as her body shudders and wonder how she’s kept it together this long.

“And you’ve spent the past year working to destroy my reputation and career!”

“Sylvie—”

“You think I’m scum—”

“I don’t,” I murmur into her hair. Sylvie leans back, face tear-streaked. I don’t let go, can’t help it. On impulse, I lean down and kiss her and she kisses me back. Electricity surges, mouths hungry, bodies pressed tight. If we were back in the hotel room . . . “Let’s go,” I say, voice rough.