Tom took out an oversized envelope. In it was a picture, and when Rick took it in his shaking fingers, his heart constricted.
It was the picture from the photo album. The one with Roberta and Graham and Rick and Marian behind them. But instead of reading “Meeting our son” on the back it read “The last clients of Foster House.”
“We found that in a box of things Marian left to Abby,” Tom said quietly. “Your birth date is June fourth, right?”
Rick’s temper roared to life. “Wait a minute,” he said, standing up. “You knew I was adopted?”
Even Jess looked surprised, but he wasn’t sure why. He turned on her. “How much did you tell them, huh? I thought this was just about the necklace?”
His accusation hit her hard and she paled. “The adoption was the only thing I could think of that connected Roberta and Marian.” She stammered. “But they already knew anyway, because Marian left the picture.”
He stared at her incredulously. “And you never thought to tell me any of this?”
“You said you didn’t want to know about your birth family,” she replied, but her voice shook.
“Oh, that’s a convenient answer, and not worthy of you, Jess. How long have you been telling yourself that lie?” God, how it hurt. After all the secrets they’d shared, that she’d keep this from him.
He turned on Abby and Tom. “And you two. Yeah, I knew I was adopted. But guess what? I never hired an investigator. I never put my name on any damn list or tried to find anything out because Roberta Sullivan is my mother.” He was starting to lose control and he gulped in a breath in a futile effort to calm down. “Jesus. It’s bad enough that you knew and didn’t say anything. But for you…” He looked at Jess. Her eyes were wide and her lips were trembling. Hurt mingled with the anger he was feeling at the moment. “For all of you to go behind my back? It wasn’t your place. It wasn’t your call.”
He hated the helpless feeling rushing through him right now. Over the last several months, he’d screwed up a lot. He knew that. But he’d made his own decisions. He’d started to call the shots in his life after so many things had been taken out of his control. Kyle. Losing his hand. His mother. Only to have the people he counted on most strip that away from him again.
He’d honestly thought his world couldn’t crumble any more when one final thought struck him right between the eyes.
“When did you get that envelope?”
Abby’s gaze flickered away and Tom looked confused. “Excuse me?”
“When did you get it?” He’d raised his voice but seemed unable to lower it.
“In July,” Abby whispered.
July.
“Rick…” Abby started to speak but Tom reached over and took her hand.
“We thought about talking to you about it, but then with Roberta being so sick, it didn’t seem like the right time.”
“The right time?” Rick exploded. “The right time for whom?”
“We wanted to protect you,” Abby pleaded, her eyes reaching out to him. “You were struggling so much…”
He felt like his skin was shrinking and he might burst through it. “Oh, so you kept it from me for my own good? Poor unstable Rick. He can’t handle the truth. Well, news flash, all of you. I knew the truth. And I didn’t give a shit.”
“Hang on,” Tom said, standing up, his own anger flaring. “Last summer your mother was dying and you were getting arrested for public drunkenness every time you turned around. What kind of friend would have dropped that photo into the mix and left you to sort it out?”
“Right, because everyone else always knows what’s best for me,” he answered angrily. “I never thought you were the self-righteous type, Tom. Or you either, Abby.”
Jess pulled on his arm and he turned to her. Her face was white and he felt a spear of guilt shoot through him and then got angry at that, too, because she made him feel weak. “And you. I tried to tell you last fall that I needed to do things on my own time. But oh no, Jess knows best, right?”
“Rick, that’s unfair,” Jess interjected. “You’ve been through so much. I didn’t think it was right to ask you to handle anything more…”
Rick cut her off. He was so hurt, so angry, so confused, that he couldn’t sort through any of his emotions. It was all too much. “I get it,” he snapped. “Poor Rick is too broken, too fragile, to handle anything difficult. You want to know what’s unfair? Try all of you trying to play God with my life like I’m nothing more than a puppet.” He wrenched his arm away from Jess’s hand. Everything in the kitchen held for a single, charged moment.
And then he knew he had to get out of there.
Rick grabbed his jacket from the coat tree on the way out the door. He was halfway to his destination before he realized he’d left Jess behind without a ride home.
CHAPTER 21