“Should?”
“It wasn’t there eight years ago.”
“Comforting.”
“Maya.”
“What?”
Another pause.
Then Ethan said:
“Leo deserves to know.”
Her hand froze on the cockpit door.
Reeves and Torres looked at her.
Maya whispered, “Know what?”
But she already knew.
Some truths announce themselves before anyone speaks them.
Ethan’s voice broke.
“That I’m his father.”
Maya closed her eyes.
Eight years ago.
The mission.
The funeral.
The morning sickness she had mistaken for grief.
The pregnancy test two weeks after Ethan’s supposed d/e/@/th.
She had never had the chance to tell him.
Maya gripped the doorframe.
“You knew?”
“Not until three months ago.”
“How?”
“Aaron found sealed medical records during the investigation.”
“And you didn’t contact me?”
“I was trying to end this before I came home.”
“Home?”
The word came out sharper than she intended.
“You don’t have a home with us, Ethan.”
