All of them.

Layer by layer.

Naked and exposed.

And hear for the first time if the real me—all of me—was still worth loving.

It didn’t feel right to sit. There was too much adrenaline in my bloodstream, too much sorrow in the air. The winter nipped at our skin, and Rosie was covered head-to-toe, as she should be.

“Let’s take a walk,” I said. She coughed a little.

“I’ll only slow you down. I can’t do long walks.”

“You never slow me down. You give me time to appreciate my surroundings.” My balls protested again. Stupid balls didn’t understand that making her happy would benefit every part of my body. Them included.

We strolled downhill, past lush green knolls, dodging low hanging branches and untrimmed vines that had begun to invade the cleared path. Her hands were tucked inside her coat and mine were in my pockets.

There was never a good time to break the kind of shit I was going to tell her, so I did the Band-Aid thing and went straight to the point.

“My biological mother left me to die in a Walmart bathroom when I was three hours old.” My tone was blasé. She continued slugging ahead, her muscles tensing at my confession. “She was a crackhead. The minute she found out she was knocked up, she took off, left her family in the countryside and disappeared somewhere in the gutters of Birmingham.”

Rosie was a smart girl. I knew she was bound to suspect something was going down.

Maybe she thought I was a deadbeat dad who fucked off once things got too real. Yeah, that wasn’t an option. I always wrapped up Dean Junior. I had personalized condoms, for fuck’s sake. The only person I didn’t use a condom with in my entire life was Rosie herself. I’d never felt another woman’s pussy, flesh-to-flesh, before her.

“I didn’t…” She tried to gulp all the oxygen she could get to stop herself from crying. “Please, continue.”

“I was found by the janitor. My mother, Nina, was found a couple blocks down the road, buying cigarettes. Her dress was covered in blood. When they took her to the hospital, she called her sister to help her deal with the legal trouble she had gotten herself into. Nina’s sister is my mom, Helen.”

“Jesus.” Rosie’s lips trembled, and so did the fingers she covered them with. A part of me, the logical part, I guess, acknowledged that it was fucked up that none of my friends knew I was adopted. But this, right here, was exactly why I wanted to keep it that way.

I was powerful.

I was imposing.

I was a motherfucking god.

These looks of pity and hushed whispers of sweet words did nothing to soothe the gash Nina created when she dumped my ass. Only reason I was willing to tolerate them now was because it was Rosie who was giving them to me. I would take any emotion from her. Even pity. Even hate. Anything, as long as it’s not indifference.

“My mom—my real mom, Helen, the one who raised me—decided to adopt me. I think Eli was game because…” I gave it some thought, a chuckle escaping my lips. “Well, because he is pussy-whipped, I suppose. He really loves my mom, you see. Nina didn’t want me anyway. She had a lot of shit going on in her life. I don’t even resent her for that. I mean, it’s pretty screwed up to leave your newborn in a public restroom, yeah. But that’s not why I hate her guts today. Not really. By the end of the first day of my life, we were all at the same Birmingham hospital. Nina signed my birth certificate and didn’t include my father’s name—she said she didn’t know, and honestly, it wasn’t that surprising to anyone in her inner circle—and my parents started filling out the paperwork for the adoption.”

“Oh, Dean. I’m so sorry. So, so sorry,” Rosie repeated herself. We were still walking, which was good. I didn’t want to have this conversation with the unnecessary discomfort of eye contact. Already, it felt like the truth was being ripped from my mouth like teeth, one by one. She took my hand, squeezed it in hers, and I drew in a breath, feeling the pressure in my lungs as they filled.

“My dad accepted a job offer in California, and they moved. Mom got pregnant with my sisters. And I looked so much like my family that no one bothered to ask. People just assumed I was Helen and Eli Cole’s son. We never bothered to correct them—because why the fuck, you know? It worked. We got away with it, and the lie became so big, so fucking huge, it was too late to backpedal and expose it to the world.

“It’s not like my family ever made me feel different. My sisters know. My parents always treated me the same as them, so it’s not like my adoption mattered to anyone.” I paused, scowling. “Well, anyone but me. My mom was under the false illusion I could bond with Nina. My dad believes that everyone deserves a chance—well, he would. He’s a lawyer. His job is to defend criminals. Either way, they always made me go and visit her in Alabama. Every summer until I was eighteen. That was the deal.”