Finding Life | Finders Keepers #2 ✔️

38. Lucky Lady

Blythe

Before I could continue, I had to take another deep breath. I have to thank Doctor Ronald for actually making sure that I don't feel the excruciating pain of the surgery.

Dean nods, urging for me to take my time and tell it all to him at my time. The way his eyes were just gazing up on me, holding it there, it melts the negative feelings away and let the memory stick. "When we reached to the abandoned parking lot—God knows where because I didn't exactly count the steps I was taking—she started talking to me about her life and how it's hard. And it really was, Dean. I felt bad for not trying to reach to her and I made her understand that I couldn't because I was just too damn angry.

"When I finally landed a good home, I wanted to leave all my past behind." I tell him. "It's why they let me take a new name. Antonio named me as Blythe because he felt, no matter how rough I have been through, I was still a gentle soul. It's what Blythe means. Gentle or kind. I don't know where he sees it."

"I do," Dean shakes his head at me disapprovingly. "You gave me up to make sure I'm safe. What's more kind that that?"

"I broke your heart, Dean. I could see it that night."

"You did but, in the process, you also broke yours."

"Dean, I—"

He silences me with a kiss on the forehead. "No more blaming yourself. We're together, now. It's what matters. Now, go ahead and tell me more."

Without any protest left in me, I just nod and oblige his request. "She understood that I needed to leave it all behind. She was hurt about it and that's why she came for me. We had this great connection as I was growing up with her in that orphanage before she got taken in by an abusive home. That's why after she escaped jail, she came looking for me. In a sense, I understood why she did. I was the good thing in her life and she needed me. Turns out, when she came looking for the files, she saw something."

My mouth goes dry in an instant. It doesn't go unnoticed by Dean because he's already up and grabbing the water, pressing the cold glass onto my lips for me to drink. I take a couple of gulps and he places it back.

"You can do it, Bly."

He's right. I can do this. "She's my sister. My real sister."

"What?" He gapes at me.

A humorless chuckle launches out of my lips. "I know. That's what I also thought. She also didn't believe the file that the nuns had at the orphanage and that's why when she came looking at me, she got a piece of my hair and blood when we were training and sent it to a lab to do some tests. Ninety-nine-point-ninety-eight percent match. God, I felt throwing up then and there."

"If she's your sister, why didn't she just tell you?"

And that's where shit goes to hell. "From what I've heard from her and seen, I think she has a mental illness. She talked about how she wants to be with me as her family and then the next, she'll flip her shit and tell me that I didn't deserve every good thing that I have now. She was supposed to have the good things, not me. While she was on a rampage, I tried to take the gun out of her hands. It's why I have the scratches, scrapes, and bruising. I almost got her good when she stabbed me."

I hear him suck a breath, his grip around my hand tightening.

Jerking my hand away slowly, I reach up, ignoring the soreness of my body, and press my hand onto his cheek. "Hey, I'm okay. I'm here with you."