Dark Hearts (Light in the Dark 3)

I eat while Jace works and then I hang out at the bar.

I wait until he gets off and we head out together.

When it’s nice out, Jace walks to work, but since it feels like Antarctica he’s been driving so we pile into his truck.

I yawn, exhaustion taking over as he pulls out onto the street.

It doesn’t take us long to arrive at the apartment and we head straight inside.

I shower and change into my pajamas and climb into Jace’s bed. My eyes are heavy and I struggle to keep them open.

“Come to bed,” I plead, patting the empty space beside me.

“In a little bit. I want to look for a little while.” Jace picks up his laptop and sits on the couch.

I sigh. Every night since the fateful dinner Jace has been scouring the internet, searching for more information on the birth parents. They must be perfectly normal people because so far, his search hasn’t turned up much.

“Are you sure?”

He nods, already zeroed in on the screen.

I’m too tired to fight him and fall right to sleep.

“I found them!”

I jolt awake at the sound of Jace’s exclamation.

“Huh?” I blink the sleep from my eyes.

“Nova.” His eyes shine. “I know his name.”

That gets my attention. I hurry out of bed and to the couch.

“You know his name?” I repeat.

Jace nods. “Greyson. His name is Greyson.”

I start sobbing. I can’t help it. All these years of not having a face or a real name for him has been hell. But now I finally know.

“How’d you find him?” I ask.

“His adopted mom has a Facebook. It took me a while to find it because it’s connected to her maiden name—Sarah Evans, instead of Sarah Hollis. But I found them, and, Nova, you’re never going to believe this.”

“What?” I ask around my tears, not sure I can handle any more news.

“They live in Boulder.”

I stare at him, dumbfounded. “No,” I say in disbelief.

“Yes.” He nods. “He lives forty minutes from here.”

“I can’t believe this,” I cry, my hands shaking. I feel like I’m coming down from an adrenaline high.

“Believe it. Do you want to see a picture of him?” Jace asks, fighting back his own emotions thanks to the onslaught of mine. “He looks like you.”

I clutch my chest. “I-I d-don’t know,” I stutter. “I’m scared.”

He grabs my hand. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”