The Match (Wilde, #2)(85)



Vicky stopped.

“Right,” Silas said. “So?”

“Mom didn’t give birth to him.”

Silas frowned. “What do you mean?”

“She hadn’t been pregnant. Mom and Dad left for like a week. On vacation, they said. Then they moved us from our home in Memphis to the middle of nowhere and suddenly we had a new baby brother.”

Silas started to shake his head. “You don’t remember it right. You were young.”

“We weren’t that young. Kelly and I—I should tell her I’m telling you this. How could I forget to do that? I should have Kelly here. I can call her maybe. Put her on FaceTime. She can verify—”

“Just,” Silas interrupted, raising both his hands, “just tell me what happened.”

“Like I said, we had a new baby brother. Suddenly. Out of nowhere. When we asked Mom and Dad about it at first, they just pretended he was ours. They finally admitted Peter was adopted, but they said we had to keep it a secret.”

Vicky told Silas the rest of the story, the same way she’d told it to Wilde inside this very house not all that long ago.

“That makes no sense,” Silas said when she finished. He’d started pacing in the exact same way his sister had a few minutes earlier. Genetics. His big hands formed fists. “If Peter was adopted, why not just say so? Why would our parents pretend he’s their own?”

“I don’t know.”

“It makes no sense,” he repeated.

Wilde, who had stayed silent, finally asked a question. “Did you suspect, Silas?”

“Huh?” He frowned. “No.”

“Even a little? Even subconsciously?”

Silas shook his head. “I’d have believed the opposite more than this.”

“What do you mean?” Vicky asked.

“That I was the one adopted, not Peter.” Silas’s voice was soft. “Peter, he was the favorite.” He held up a hand to stop Vicky from speaking. “Don’t pretend otherwise, Vicky. We both know. He was the golden child. In your eyes too. He could do no wrong.” He shook his head again. A tear ran down his cheek. “I don’t know why I’m upset. It doesn’t change anything. Peter is…or he was…still my brother. It doesn’t change how I feel about him.” He looked toward Vicky. “Or you. It was all so hard on you. Dad was absent so much. Working late at the school, taking trips with friends. Mom was half in the bag most of the time. You got us ready for school. You made us school lunches.”

Vicky was crying now too.

“I don’t get it,” Silas continued. “They had three kids they barely wanted. Why would they adopt another?”

No one had the answer. The three stood there for a moment in silence. Then Silas turned to Wilde and said, “Hold up. If Peter was adopted and you matched Peter, then, well, we aren’t related, are we?”

“That’s right,” Vicky said. “He has no obligation to us. We aren’t blood.”

“Except,” Wilde said, “we are related.”

That surprised them. Then Vicky said, “You mean, like, because an adoption still counts as family? I guess in that case, but genetically—”

“Genetically,” Wilde said, “we are related.”

Silence.

Vicky said, “Do you want to explain what you mean?”

“Silas, you said you signed up for MeetYourFamily-dot-com, right?”

“Right.”

“And they gave you a user number?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember it?”

“Not off the top of my head. It began with a three-two. But I can look—”

“Was it 32894?”

He looked surprised. “That sounds right.”

“And you said you matched someone at twenty-three percent?”

“Wilde,” Vicky said, “what’s going on here?”

“That’s right,” Silas said.

“And when you reached out to the match, did you give your name?”

“Sure. Why not? I have nothing to hide.”

“And the person you matched didn’t reply?”

“No.”

“The person you matched,” Wilde said, “was your brother Peter.”

Neither spoke. They both just stared at him.

“Aren’t siblings like fifty percent?” Vicky asked.

“Yes,” Wilde said.

“Oh my God,” Silas said. “Now it all makes sense.”

Vicky turned to him. “It does?”

“Perfect sense. It’s what I suspected when I first saw the match. I just didn’t think it was Peter.”

“Could you explain to me?” Vicky asked.

“Twenty-three percent,” Silas replied. “That’s a half sibling.”

Vicky still looked confused.

“Come on, Vicky,” Silas said. “It’s Dad. Dad messed around. He knocked someone up. Don’t you see? DNA doesn’t lie. Dad got a woman pregnant. With Peter. Mom and Dad decided to raise him on their own.”

Vicky started to nod slowly. “Dad got a woman pregnant,” she repeated. “Mom took him in. It explains so much.”

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