Page 81 of Buried Secrets

Ryan’s frown softened. “Yeah. She did. And she loved me fiercely, maybe too much sometimes. I think she was trying to make up for…” He gestured between them.

“Must have been suffocating.”

“Sometimes.” His honesty surprised her.

They ate in silence for a moment, the awkwardness settling between them like a third presence at the table. Outside, a fishing boat chugged past the harbor, heading home with the day’s catch.

“Tell me about your parents,” Ryan said eventually. “Your adoptive parents.”

“They were wonderful.” Kaitlin found herself smiling despite the familiar ache. “They gave me everything—education, travel, culture. Love.”

“But?”

“But there was always this… hole. This sense that I didn’t quite fit. They were much older than my friends’ parents. It kind of created a double whammy. My family didn’t fit in, and I didn’t fit in with my family.” She met his eyes. “You can’t understand what that’s like. You know your whole history, where your eyes came from, why you gesture a certain way.”

“No,” Ryan agreed quietly. “I can’t. But I can understand what it’s like to grow up with a mother who was only half there. Who was always looking for someone who wasn’t in the room.”

The simple statement hit harder than any defense of Marissa could have given. They’d both lost something, just in different ways.

“I’m glad she had you,” Kaitlin said, meaning it. “I’m glad she got to be a mother.”

“She wants to be your mother too. If you’ll let her.”

“I don’t know if I can do that. I had a mother. Perhaps we can be friends, but not yet.”

“Fair enough.” Ryan pushed his empty plate aside. “But maybe you and I could start with being friends. I mean, I’ve got thirty years of embarrassing stories about mom saved up, and no one to share them with.”

Despite everything, Kaitlin found herself laughing. “Embarrassing stories?”

“Oh, tons. Like the time she tried to dye her hair red and turned it orange instead. Looked like a traffic cone for weeks.” His grin was infectious. “Or when she decided to learn to knit and made me a sweater with one arm longer than the other.”

“She knits?”

“Badly. But with enthusiasm.” Ryan’s expression grew warmer. “Look, I know I got the better end of this deal. I got to grow up with her, know her. But that doesn’t mean we can’t build something now. The three of us.”

“You’re very protective of her.”

“Someone has to be.” He signaled for more coffee. “She’s got a huge heart, and I worry someone will take advantage of her. Present company excluded, of course.”

“Of course.” Kaitlin smiled despite herself.

They exchanged numbers, and Ryan insisted on paying for both their pies despite Kaitlin’s protests. As they prepared to leave, he turned to her with a look that was pure Kaitlin.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said simply. “Whatever happens with mom, I’m glad I finally have a sister.”

Sister. She’d felt alone her entire life, and now suddenly she had a brother who seemed genuinely happy about her existence.

“I’m glad too,” she managed.

They hugged briefly outside the diner, and Kaitlin was startled by how natural it felt. Same eyes. Anyone passing would know immediately they were related.

“Text me,” Ryan said as they parted. “Even if it’s just to complain about life or mom’s overwhelming need to feed everyone.”

“I will.”

Kaitlin watched him walk toward his truck. Her jealousy and resentment were still there—might always be there—but underneath it was something new. Connection.

Later, as she arrived back to her cottage with Ollie announcing she was home, her phone buzzed with a text.