Page 69 of Don't Burn Bridges
Then, almost as one, they turned toward her.
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
“What are you talking about?” Shane asked, the smile disappearing from his face.
Tucker's gaze stayed locked on Shylo, sending a shiver down her spine. “You don't see it, do you, Shane?”
“See what?”
“The resemblance.”
Frowning, Shane shifted his gaze from Tucker to Shylo, then back again. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I've been watching you smile for years, babe.” His voice remained calm, but an unmistakable edge cut through every word as he finally looked at his husband. “I’ve studied it. I know every nuance of it. She's got it.”
“Got what? My smile.”
“Yeah.” Tucker's gaze shifted back to Shylo. “She’s your half-sister.”
The last thread of hope snapped.
She stared at Tucker, unable to believe he'd actually said the words aloud.
Silence swallowed the room.
A grandfather clock in the corner ticked off the seconds. Somewhere in the kitchen, the refrigerator hummed to life. Ordinary sounds that had no business existing when her entire world had just come apart.
Then the silence shattered.
Paige gasped. Seth swore under his breath. Chairs scraped across the hardwood floor. Shane stared from Tucker to Shylo and back again as confused voices erupted from every direction, piling over one another until none of them made sense.
She caught fragments.
“…what are you talking about?”
“…that’s impossible…”
“…Tucker…”
“...Shylo?”
She couldn't have answered if she'd wanted to. Her tongue felt glued to the roof of her mouth, and every heartbeat pounded harder than the last. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. She'd rehearsed a hundred different conversations during sleepless nights at the motel. None of them ended with Tucker saying the words for her while she sat frozen over a piece of apple pie.
A piercing whistle cut through the chaos, silencing everyone.
Shane lowered his hand from his mouth and looked at her. Not Tucker. Not anyone else.
Her.
His expression held no anger. Only bewilderment. “Is it true?”
Every instinct screamed at her to deny it.
To run.
To somehow shove the truth back into the box it had lived in for thirty years.
