“I’m . . . um, sorry,” Zac mumbled, staring shyly at his toes. “I shouldn’t -”
“It’s okay,” Tracy said quickly. Seeing the young blond boy still shifting uncomfortably, she added, “Zac, really.”
He succeeded in looking up at her and smiling. “Yeah,” he managed to say.
Everyone was quiet. Isaac and Taylor both seemed to be holding their breath. Tracy rolled her shoulders back and slowly stood up. “You guys practice. I’ll go sit in the living room or something,” she murmured, heading out of the room.
She made her way into the living room and sat down on the couch. A shaky sigh escaped her lips. Adopted. Saying the word out loud seemed to finalize it somehow. Her sister had told her a few months ago, yet Tracy had never managed to say the word aloud. She hadn’t confronted her parents about it; her sister had told her not to. “What good will it do?” she’d asked when Tracy suggested it. “And what if they deny it? They might not let you talk to me anymore if you tell them you know. Just leave it alone,” her sister had typed. “Just leave it alone.”
She couldn’t wait to meet her sister. They had planned this meeting shortly after Tracy learned she was adopted. And the entire “Hanson” plan hadn’t come into form until a month prior . . .
Tracy was aware of another presence in the room. Taylor stood in the doorway, avoiding her eyes. “You okay?” he asked quietly.
She nodded. “Fine.”
He crossed the room cautiously, at length, taking a seat beside her. “I’m sorry if Zac -”
“No,” she said quickly. “Zac didn’t do anything. I just . . . You three seemed so uncomfortable because I’m -”
This time, Tay cut her off. “No.” He shifted on the couch slightly. “We just weren’t expecting that, I guess. That’s all.”
Tracy gave a small smile. “Yeah,” she agreed quietly. She looked up and force herself to look into Taylor’s eyes; for him to look into hers.
And Tay did look. He couldn’t help it. Those strange-neat green eyes mesmerized him; even more so now that he was looking into them in real life. He was positive now that Missy was Ally; the resemblance was too uncanny. Now if he could just bring himself to tell her who he was . . .
His eyes traced her facial features: her eyelashes, her cheek bones, her nose, her lips. She had such a soft mouth. How come he had never noticed that before? In all the hours he’d stared at her picture, he’d never noticed it.
Unconsciously, he moved his fingertips to the side of her face. She didn’t flinch; instead, she seemed to move toward his touch. Without another thought, Taylor moved his face in toward hers.
Their lips touched.
Both sets were slightly parted but closed slowly as they met each others. Taylor continued the kiss, parting his lips again.
Tracy brought her hands up and rested them on the back of his neck, her fingers lacing through his hair. She kissed him back.
And then, suddenly, she pulled away. It was wrong. She couldn’t - couldn’t - feel this way about him. She pulled herself to the edge of the couch, her back to Taylor.
“Missy,” Tay murmured. She didn’t move. He scooted toward her and rested a hand on her back. Involuntarily, she leaned toward the warmth of his palm. “I’m sorry if I -” he began.
“No,” she said quietly. “Tay, please don’t.” Quickly, she stood up, looking around the room feverishly. Finally, her eyes landed on the door. “I have to go,” she said, walking to it.
“Missy,” Taylor called, frozen to the couch. “Look, I’m sorry. You don’t have to go -”
She fumbled with the locks a few times before successfully unlocking the door. Without so much as a glance backward, she darted out the door. Moments later, she was gone; all that was left of her was the sound of her feet hitting the pavement.
Next Chapter
The Index
The Window Seat
