My heart bursts from pride, and I scream along with the rest of the team and their families, my hands stinging from how hard I clap them.
“Emma, Emma, Emma, Emma,” the team chants, lifting her up on their shoulders. Yet, her head is swiveling to look back at the other team, their shoulders slumped. Despondence polluting the air around them. There’s a slight frown on her face, almost as if she feels guilty for beating them.
It’s all I need to see to know that she will never be like our parents.
I just hope that if I do meet her, she’ll see that, too.
My heart is pounding in my throat, and I’m just wondering at what point my body decided it would function better there instead of my chest.
It’s clearly gone rogue, along with any coherent thought as Layla and her parents approach.
Cage and I are standing outside the field gate, where throngs of people spill out as everyone leaves for the night. The warm August air is suffocating, and I wish I had brought a mini fan to keep me from sweating through all my clothes.
I doubt being a sopping mess will make an excellent first impression .
Layla and her parents emerge from the doors, her blonde strands matted to her sweaty forehead and a bright smile on her face as her dad, Colin, shakes her shoulders with excitement. Her head tips down, and that grin slips ever so slightly.
It’s very little encouragement, considering I’m point two seconds from bailing, but it’s enough to keep my feet planted until Layla is only a few feet away.
The world tilts on its axis, slowing to a halt as our eyes clash. I’m not sure if we’re moving in slow motion or if she really has stopped walking. Regardless, there she stands, two feet away, and staring right at me.
“Emma?”
Layla’s head snaps to Margot, who is staring at her with concern, her gaze darting between her daughter and me.
“You okay?”
“Uh,” she stutters, but then refocuses on me before she can muster a better response.
“Emma, who is that?” Colin asks.
I bite my lip, my brain rolling over how to introduce myself. My real name? My fake name? Her sister? Does it even matter?
My mouth opens, then snaps shut, and I shift on my feet uncomfortably. This was a mistake. A huge mistake.
I have no place interfering in her life. Who cares if there’s a small part of her missing? It’s better than finding out your parents tried to sell you in the sex trade after they sold me.
That’s like—so much trauma.
I go to turn, but Cage grabs my biceps, preventing me from running away .
“Who are you?” Margot is directing her question toward me now.
“Uh.”
My response isn’t any more informative than Layla’s was, except I actually know the answer.
I clear my throat and try again, “Her sister.”
All three of their spines snap straight, but while wariness and suspicion clouds over her parents’ vision, Layla narrows her eyes in contemplation, as if she’s trying to recognize me from memories almost a decade old.
“Excuse me?” Margot snaps, stepping forward, her tone sharp and irate. “What makes you thin—”
“I gave her to you,” I say, my voice cracking. Fuck, it hurts so much to say it aloud, even if it was the best thing that I could’ve done for her. It just fucking sucks I couldn’t be that. Cage’s hand cups my bicep, gently squeezing to remind me he’s here. It’s enough to power on. “Ten years ago. I left her on your doorstep with a name tag and birthdate.”
She and Colin blink at me in astonishment, a range of emotions flashing through their stares. I doubt they told anyone that; it certainly wasn’t released to the public.
“You gave me away?” Layla asks, her voice soft and tinged with hurt. It's the first time I've heard it up close and directed at me. It's enough to move me to tears, though I manage to hold them back.
I chew on my lip, contemplating how to answer, only to settle on a shaky nod. I can’t trust my voice not to crack and for a tsunami of an explanation to burst free. I know I need to take it slow with her—if she decides she wants to know me—but I hate that she feels like I abandoned her because I didn’t want her .
“Why?” she asks.
“Maybe this isn’t the best place for this to happen,” Colin intervenes, glancing nervously between his wife and me. They’re both on edge. Uncomfortable. And for good reason.
Maybe I should’ve sent her a message on some social media app instead, but that felt so… impersonal. Dirty.
I don’t want Margot and Colin to feel like I’m sneaking behind their backs. Like some weird predator trying to gain Layla’s trust without their knowledge.
I want to do this the right way. Maybe this wasn’t the best way, but at least her parents won’t be kept in the dark.
“You’re right,” I rush out. “I guess I didn’t really know the best way to go about this—”
“You should’ve come to us first,” Margot states firmly. She’s aggravated, and her protective instincts are fully engaged. It’s understandable, but keeping my voice even takes effort.
“Probably. But I didn’t want to become a secret to her or a reason for you two to have to keep one if you tried to decide for her. I’m not here to try and take her away or cause any trouble. I chose you two for a reason, and I have no plans to undo that decision.”
“Then what do you want?” Layla asks, cocking her head.
“To know you,” I say, meeting her baby blue eyes. “That’s all. If that’s not what you want, I’ll respect that. But I just wanted it to be you who decides.”
Colin scoffs. “We get a say, too. She’s only fifteen—”
“And she’s going to grow up eventually,” I remind him, my own tone sharpening. “She won’t be fifteen forever. Just ask yourself if you’d be preventing her for her own sake or yours. ”
He looks slightly offended by that, but it doesn’t make it any less accurate.
Swallowing back the bile threatening to spew from my throat, I take a few steps forward and hand Margot a piece of paper with my number written on it.
“Go home and talk about it as a family, yeah? Then call me when you all decide. I’ll respect your decision regardless.”
Hesitantly, she takes the slip from me. I spare Layla one last glance before turning and taking off.
“Hey!” Layla’s voice stops me, and I turn enough to give her my eyes. “What’s your name?”
I swallow, and for a brief moment, I consider giving her the name that I gave myself when I took her away from our awful home. But I want her to know the real me. The version of myself I’ve been fighting to find again since I became a ghost all those years ago.
“Molly,” I rasp. “My name is Molly.”
Then, I pivot and hope to God that this isn’t the last time I’ll ever hear her voice.
Cage entwines my hand with his, squeezing tightly.
“So, the little ghost finally materializes. Welcome to the rest of your life, baby.”
Molly
One Month Later
2022
Even the tip of Cage’s dick in the back of my throat doesn’t deter my thighs from seizing around his head. His tongue swipes through my slit, targeting my clit with perfect precision and skill.
I’m sitting on his face and leaning down his body, sucking on his cock until his own thighs tense with pleasure.
We’re competing on who can make who come first. Whoever the winner is gets to fuck the other in the ass, and I’m determined to win. Yet, less than a minute in, and I’m on the verge of losing.
I take him down the back of my throat again, evoking a deep groan from his chest and causing him to pump his hips, forcing me to swallow him impossibly deeper .
I gag, but even that doesn’t diminish the burning need to explode. Squeezing my eyes shut, I bob my mouth up and down his length
Epilogue (SPLIT)
with vigor, sucking and licking while using my hand to twist around the flesh that my mouth can’t reach.
In retaliation, he sucks my clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it with a speed my brain is incapable of comprehending. The only thing it can grasp is how fucking amazing it feels.