Page 28 of Whatever It Takes

“You…remember me?” is all I manage to say.

“Yeah.” His lips rise, and my heart warms. “The day I met my birth mother is one I really can’t forget.”

“Oh…” That was the first time he met my mom? I mean,ourmom. My eyes drop for a second. She really did abandon him then…

I take a quick glance at Ryke. His lips are parted in surprise, eyes a little wide as they go from me to Loren and back to me. I wonder if he knew anything about me. If he knew I existed out there, or if Loren just kept it to himself. Because my mom told him to leave Ellie and me alone.

“Do you want to talk over coffee?” Loren asks. I whip my head back to him, a chill never disappearing.Coffee.“Maybe in the break room?”

I nod over and over, and the tears just keep rising. I blow out another breath, my strained shoulders loosening.

He wants to talk. He’s not going to kick me out. He’s not going to tell me toget lost, kid.I feel likeI’m reaching out to someone who’s not only clasping my hand but drawing me closer, so I don’t fall backwards on my own.

For the first time since I left home, I feel safe.

* * *

I’m in the break room of Superheroes & Scones.

I can’t believeI’mhere—and yes, I’m slightly shaking. My arms tremble, and my legs have glued together. I wonder if the jitters are from the coffee Loren handed me, the only thing I’ve consumed today. Or maybe it’s nerves—from being in the presence of a famous person for longer than one minute. Or from being related tothishuman being.

I cup the coffee mug, afraid to drink more and have a panic attack at Loren Hale’s feet.Please don’t do that, Willow.

He sits next to me on the bright blue couch. The break room is pretty typical: a microwave, small kitchenette, tables and chairs, a few racks of comic books, and a single bathroom.

Lily, her son, her bodyguard, and Ryke all disappeared upstairs to—well, I’m not exactly sure what leads upstairs. The point is: we’re basically alone except for a couple of employees eating sandwiches at a back table, sitting beneath anIron Manposter.

I think we can speak freely enough, but if Loren is cautious, I’ll follow his lead and be cautious too.

“I…” I begin but realize I’m unsure of where to start.

Loren’s confidence radiates and practically dwarfs what little I have in this moment. He keeps an arm on the back of the couch, rotated towards my body. “How’d you find out about me?” he asks, discovering a place to start.

Now I have to figure out how to explain everything. I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, having trouble holding his gaze. “My parents divorced about a year ago.”

“I’m sorry.” He sounds a little cross, not towards me really, but maybe that’s his normal tone of voice? Everything seems to come out harsh, but it doesn’t always match his expression.

I guess if I looked at him, I’d have a better interpretation of this moment.Willow Moore, that little turd, can’t even look her own brother square in the eyes—will definitely be my eulogy.

I shrug and push up my glasses that keep slipping down my nose. “Ellie had her sixth birthday about a month ago, and it was the first time my parents were together since the divorce.”

The fight starts to flood me: the balloons littering the linoleum floor, the way my father passed me coldly and never looked back, the half-eaten cake and my mother gripping the counter. My chest tightens, and my eyes burn again.

“I heard them fighting in the kitchen,” I nearly whisper, “about how my mom had a son, and she…abandoned you.” I clutch my mug harder and finally look up.

He scratches his neck, appearing a little more uncomfortable than he has been. “I had my father, so it was okay.” His throat bobs.

I wonder if Jonathan Hale is nice. Just based off tabloid rumors, I’d sayno.(They’re so awful I really hate to repeat them.)Disregarding those, all I have to go on is the fact that he slept with an underage girl—my mom,ourmom—and got her pregnant.

He doesn’t sound that awesome, but if he raised someone as cool as Loren Hale, then maybe he’s not entirely bad.

When he swallows, he asks, “Did you confront her about it?”Did I confront my mom about her abandoning you?

I just picture my mom turning her back on me, trying to bury this. I see her never chasing me upstairs. Never chasing me outside. I see her in a new horrible light that I can’t shake. It hurts…

“Yeah,” I say softly, “right then. I asked her about it, and it took some screaming for her to really tell me the truth.”

My voice nearly dies by the last word. I wipe my eyes beneath my glasses, hoping these tears won’t overflow.