1. Billie

CHAPTER 1

BILLIE

" I t's okay. You'll be okay." Pressing my lips to my daughter's soft brown hair, I enter the emergency room at a jog.

There's no line at the front desk, thank God. Hurrying over, I lock eyes with the man behind the desk.

"My daughter is having trouble breathing." The words spill out of me faster than lightning. "She was playing outside and then she started wheezing."

The nonplussed man clicks on his computer. "Name? Age?"

"Quinn Hackett. She's six."

I try not to yell at him to move faster. I get that this is another day on the job for him and it's not like Quinn is turning blue.

But how do we know she won't be in another twenty seconds?

Fear grips my heart. I can't lose my daughter. She's the best thing that's ever come into my life.

She's all I have in the world.

The man asks some more questions, and I fumble to get Quinn's insurance card out. Meanwhile, she clutches at my T-shirt, a robust first-grader reduced to a clinging toddler.

Tears fill my eyes and I blink them back. "How long is the wait?"

"Uh…" He inspects the screen.

Just then, a nurse rushes towards me, taking in Quinn's wheezing and the fear in my eyes. "What's her name?" she asks.

"Quinn. She's having trouble breathing." I clutch her tight, feeling helpless and scared.

The nurse nods. "Let's take her back to an exam room and check her out. Does she have any allergies?"

"Not that I know of. She was playing outside when it happened." I follow behind the nurse, Quinn still on my hip.

"And could she have been stung by a bee?"

We're in the exam room, where she gestures for me to put Quinn on the table.

"Uh, no. She didn't mention being stung by anything."

Quinn sucks in a pitiful breath. "Mommy."

"It's okay." I touch her back. "They're gonna look at you now."

There's a knock on the door, and a doctor comes in. She smiles at us. "Hi Quinn, I'm Dr. Patel. I'm going to examine you, okay?"

Quinn nods, her small hand clutching mine tightly. I hold my breath as Dr. Patel listens to her chest and checks her oxygen levels.

"When was the last time she had an asthma attack?" Dr. Patel asks me.

My heart drops. "Asthma? She's never had one before."

The doctor nods, scribbling something down on her clipboard. "It looks like she's having an asthma attack. We'll give her some medication to help her breathe easier. Don't worry, she's in good hands."

I nod, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. Asthma. I never would have thought Quinn had asthma. I feel like such a bad mother for not knowing.

The doctor administers the medication through an inhaler and within a few minutes, Quinn's breathing starts to even out.

"Thank you," I say to the doctor and the nurse. "Thank you so much."

"That's what we're here for," the nurse says with a smile.

The doctor leaves the room, and the nurse brings out a toy chest. She opens it up, offering Quinn a plastic trinket.

"I can't believe I didn't know," I mumble, more to myself than anyone else.

The nurse eyes me. "You couldn't know until it happens," she says. "Does asthma run in the family?"

"I…" I hesitate and glance at Quinn, who is distracted by her shiny new plastic ring. "I don't know. Her adoption was basically closed."

It's no secret that Quinn was adopted. I've told her from the beginning that instead of growing her in my belly I went searching for her and adopted her.

The adoption hasn't caused any issues at all.

Until now.

"It's not only genetic," the nurse adds. "Environmental factors play a role."

I nod, feeling extra down now.

The nurse takes a seat next to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Don't be too hard on yourself. You're doing the best you can for Quinn, and that's what really matters."

I nod, but I can't shake off the feeling that I should have known. That I should've been more prepared for something like this.

"We can schedule a follow-up appointment with a pediatrician to discuss a long-term treatment plan," the nurse says. "And in the meantime, here's a prescription for her inhaler. Make sure you give it to her as needed."

"Thank you," I say, taking the prescription from her.

Quinn looks up at me with tired eyes. "Mommy, can we go home now?"

"Yes, baby," I say, relieved. "We can go home now."

As we leave the hospital, I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. But at the same time, I know that I need to educate myself about Quinn's asthma and how to prevent future attacks. I can't let something like this happen again.

I can't help but wonder what other surprises await us. What other things have I missed about her? I feel guilty, like I've failed her somehow.

But then Quinn tugs on my hand. "Mommy, can we get ice cream?"

"Sure, sweetie," I say, ruffling her hair.

After grabbing our cones at our favorite spot, we go into the building's shady backyard. Spotting an ant hill, Quinn immediately goes over to check it out.

Knowing she'll be occupied for at least a few minutes, I pull out my phone and call my best friend.

"Hey," Monica answers. "What kind of wine should I bring for dinner tonight?"

I clear my throat before speaking. "White. But, um, I need to talk to you about something serious."

Monica's tone changes immediately. "Of course, what's going on?"

I take a deep breath before continuing. "Quinn was just diagnosed with asthma."

There's a brief silence before Monica responds. "Oh no, Billie. I'm so sorry. How is she doing?"

"She's okay now. We just left the hospital and she's excited to get some ice cream," I say, watching Quinn from afar. "But I'm worried about her, and I'm worried about what other surprises might be waiting for us down the road."

"I can understand why you're feeling that way," Monica says, her voice full of concern. "But you need to remember that Quinn is still the same wonderful kid she's always been. And you're doing everything you can to take care of her."

"I know, but I can't help but feel like I should've known about this before. Like I should've been more prepared," I say with a sigh.

"Girl, you have such bad mom-guilt that it's crushing."

I laugh. "Yeah."

"Hey, you know what?" she says. "I just heard about something the other day. It's this genetic testing app that's been getting a lot of buzz. It's supposed to be really accurate and easy to use. Want me to send you the link?"

I hesitate. "Genetic testing?"

"Yeah, you get your results right on the app."

I watch Quinn follow a butterfly around the yard, her ice cream dripping down her hand. "What sort of results?"

"What you're talking about — medical predispositions. But also, you can find family on it." She pauses. "Oh."

"Yeah." I cringe.

Monica clears her throat. "Would it really be that bad if you found some of Quinn's relatives?"

I swallow, trying to ignore the knot that forms in my stomach. "I don't know. I mean, what if they don't want anything to do with us? Or what if they have expectations or obligations or—"

"Stop, stop," Monica interrupts. "You're getting ahead of yourself. You don't even know if you'll find anyone. And if you do, you can take it slow. You can assess the situation and decide what you're comfortable with."

I let out a shaky breath, realizing that she's right. "Okay. Okay, send me the link. Thank you, Monica. You're the best."

"Of course, Billie. Anything for you and Quinn. And hey, I'll be over soon with that white wine. We'll have a good dinner and forget about all this stress for a little while, okay?"

I smile, feeling grateful for her unwavering support. "Okay. See you soon."

After we hang up, I download the app and fill out the required information. Once I submit a sample, the company will begin analyzing Quinn's DNA and searching for any potential relatives. I try not to think about the possibility of discovering someone who is biologically connected to her, but my mind can't help but wander. Would they look like her? Act like her? Would they want to meet her?

Monica is right. I can't live in a world of what-ifs.

And I need to think of my priority. Quinn's health.

I finally feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe this app could give me some answers, some peace of mind.

I watch Quinn a little while longer, marveling at her boundless energy and infectious laughter. She deserves the best possible care and protection, and I'm determined to give her just that.

The butterfly Quinn has been watching leaves the yard, and my daughter comes over to me. Her ice cream cone is nearly gone, and she throws it in the trash.

"Mommy, can we play a game?" she asks, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Sure, sweetie. What game do you want to play?"

Quinn thinks for a moment before grinning widely. "Let's play hide-and-seek!"

I laugh. "Okay, but we need to stay in the yard. Don't leave it. You go hide and I'll count to ten."

Quinn runs off to find the perfect hiding spot, and I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. As I count, my mind wanders back to the genetic testing app. What if it really did find a relative of Quinn's?

What if it found her dad?

A chill runs through me. There was no father listed on her birth certificate, and her birth mother said he didn't want to be involved.

Which is beyond sad. After my own relationship past and then ending up raising a kid as a single parent, I really feel for Sara, Quinn's bio mom.

The poor woman. She didn't even live to see Quinn reach three months old.

Every time I think of her, I think of the man who turned his back on her and Quinn and rage fills me.

What if this app points us straight to him? Gives us his name?

What would I do then?

Suddenly, I hear a giggle and realize that Quinn must have found a hiding spot. I finish counting and begin to search the yard for her.

As I walk, I can't help but think about my own biological family. My mom and dad were barely around when I was growing up; I left home at eighteen and we've had limited contact ever since.

Which is fine.

Kind of.

It's not that I miss them. I just wish I had parents who gave a damn about me.

And a partner to share life with.

There's another giggle, and I reach a big oak tree in the corner of the yard.

I peek around the trunk, but see no sign of Quinn. I lean my head against the tree and close my eyes, listening for any sounds that might give her away.

It's in that moment, with the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves above me, that I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and see Quinn standing there, grinning from ear to ear.

"You found me, Mommy!" she exclaims, throwing her arms around my neck.

I hug her tightly, savoring the feel of her small body pressed against mine.

"You're a great hider, baby girl," I tell her.

Her big blue eyes are bright and her smile is wide. And in that moment, I know that everything is going to be okay. We'll navigate this new chapter together, just like we have everything else.