“And the money? Is it a lot?”
“I handled the calls, the paperwork,” he said. “I read their letters. They talked about fear and pressure. They never talked about the night they left me outside.”
Harold leaned forward.
“And the money? Is it a lot?”
Julian let out a short laugh.
“Yeah,” he said. “Enough that my brain short-circuited when I saw the number.”
That hurt, but I understood.
I swallowed.
“Do you want it?” I asked. “You can be honest.”
He thought for a long moment.
“Sometimes I think about paying off my loans,” he said. “Helping you two. Doing something good with it. But every time I picture signing their name, it feels like I’m saying they’re my real parents and you’re… something else.”
That hurt, but I understood.
“They put me out there.”
Harold shook his head.
“We are not going to resent you for taking what you’re owed,” he said. “You didn’t ask to be abandoned. If you want that money, take it. We’ll still be your parents.”
Julian looked between us.
“You dragged me inside when I was freezing to death,” he said. “They put me out there. That’s the difference. And it’s not just about money. It’s about claiming my own identity.”
He turned to me.
“So what are you going to do?”
“I didn’t tell you because I was scared,” he said. “Scared you’d feel like I might choose them over you. Scared you’d worry. I thought I was protecting you.”
I reached for his hand.
“You don’t protect us by hurting yourself,” I said. “We could’ve carried this with you.”
He squeezed my hand.
“I know that now.”
“So what are you going to do?” Harold asked.
