𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄

[𝟑𝟔] 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲

"We look so similar, you know that?" It comes out almost like a whisper, like I didn't mean to say it. He flashes me a small smile, nodding.

"Y-you should see the pictures of us when we were toddlers. Like twins, almost."

I look up at Calista hopefully. "Can we look at them? The pictures?"

She grins and nods in the direction of the living room.

There's a part of me that's scared to actually look at the pictures of a life I didn't know I had.

Calista and Abel know all about this. They've probably looked through these hundreds of times and admired little me while I was at home playing dolls with Ray, unaware of their existence or place in two-year-old me's life.

For whatever reason, I keep pinning the blame on myself like I should've known or something. It all feels like it's my fault; like I did something.

Of course, I'm completely aware that all of this has nothing to do with something I did, but, still. I feel overwhelmingly guilty.

Regardless, it isn't that big of a deal. Things happen, people make decisions. And while I desire to control all that lies beneath and in front of me, I shouldn't worry about things that happened years ago, no matter if they are currently impacting me.

I'll forget about how I felt about this whole thing sooner or later, so what's the point of overthinking.

I inhale only to exhale as I take a seat on the couch between Calista and Abel.

The rest of the time there, we discuss memories and thoughts. Wishes and fears we missed out on sharing over the last fifteen-sixteen years.

I learn about my birth father, my grandparents, my lineage. You know, everything that people need covered when they meet their biological family after years of being lied to.

All sarcasm aside, it was good. The whole time I had the almost irresistible urge to cry. I forced a nice smile though. There was nothing to cry about.

Well, maybe there was but I'd much rather ignore anything like that than acknowledge my feelings. Only psychopaths do that shit.

And stable people... which I, unfortunately, am not.

❛❜

As soon as we get home, dad leaves again. He says something about work but I was too concentrated on keeping my breathing even to care where he was going.

And as far as I could tell, he was in too much of a hurry to care if I was listening or not.

"Don't walk with your arm around me."

Sam scoffs, pulling me closer. My yelp is muffled when he pulls me somehow farther into his side. I shove him harshly and throw my purse on my bed as he shuts the door behind us.

"Why are you being so mean to me?" He grumbles, pulling his shirt over his head. "God, it was hot," he mumbles.

I ignore him and take off my bottoms, yanking on my pajama shorts. Sam tosses his shirt over my head and it covers my eyes. I leave it alone in spite though.

He chuckles, peeling the shirt away from my head. "You're just going to continue ignoring me, then?"

Again, I ignore him as I change out of my top and into one of his sweatshirts. I can appreciate the lack of little screaming voices telling me to stop changing in front of him.

"Really, Grace?"

Rolling my eyes, I pull my hair back into a crappy excuse of a ponytail.

I want to talk to him but I have zero energy. It's not like I expect him to immediately grasp that today was a big day and I'm drained. But I wish he could take a hint.