Cait hustled into the boutique coffee shop wearing ripped jeans and a unisex white t-shirt.

Casual.

Understated.

And forgettable. Not flashy colors or loud prints. She wanted to walk in and disappear. Fade into the obscurity of hipster LA. She found a small table near the window—round and splattered in paint to match the boho chic vibe of the space. Exposed pale brick, industrial lights in wire mesh, and reclaimed wood counter stuffed with upscale baked goods like lavender lemon donuts and dark chocolate smoked sage brownies.

Both of which screamed her name, but her stomach was too tangled in knots to even contemplate food, or coffee.

"Excuse me."

Cait pulled her eyes up to the man standing by her table. And nearly fell out of her chair. Lean framed, but still carrying plenty of muscle, Stephen Bak showed up for their coffee meeting dressed like he'd just come off a magazine cover for young and trendy. Like her, dressed in ripped jeans and a deep neck t-shirt, and long black hair stylishly tousled.

A neat goatee hugged his narrow jaw and highlighted a sulky mouth. Rich brown eyes caught the sun and transformed to liquid amber. The same shape and color as her own. They also had the same nose.

Her brother was stud.

"Sorry I'm late." He slid into the seat opposite her and pressed his hands to his thighs. Knees spread to hug the table because his legs were too long to tuck underneath.

"No, it's fine." Cait squirmed. Cleared her throat. "So do you live here in LA?"

"Moved here six months ago from London," he said. Fingers drumming. Laughed. "Sorry, this is weird."

"No." Yes. Really weird. Sweat bloomed on her chest. Beneath her arms. Shit. Why was there no AC in this coffee shop?

"Look..." Stephen leaned in and pressed his hands to the table. They were large. Twice the size of hers. Jesus. Bro was a giant. "I've been in touch with our birth mum for the last four years. Started the search soon as I was old enough to start looking. Now I'm tracking down the rest of us."

"The rest of us," Cait whispered. "How many of...us is there?"

"Eight."

Cait's eyes popped wide. "Eight?"

Stephen answered with a tense laugh. "Yeah. I need coffee. You fancy one?"

"No. I'm fine."

"Cool." He shot out of his seat so fast Cait almost bounced out of hers. His long legs ate up ground and he reached the counter in a handful of strides. Five minutes later he slunk back down with a large paper cup capped with a plastic lid. "They're crazy fast here. Got you a brownie. And a cappuccino. Sorry. Looked like you need something."

She did. She really did. The fact that he picked up on it somehow maybe her eyes blister and her throat ache. "Thanks."

"They're bringing it tableside in two minutes once the milk is up to temperature," he said all in one breath. "Wow. Sorry. I dunno why this is so weird."

"I'm glad I'm not the only one mildly freaking out," Cait admitted with a laugh. "How many have you tracked down so far?"

"Including you?" Stephen arched a brow, listed off on his fingers like a child struggling to calculate double digits. "One."

Cait snorted. "Shit. What made me so lucky?"

"Vogue." Stephen answered. "That spread you did last month was huge in London. Then I saw your face and thought...is she? I did a bit of digging and I discovered your parents, Astrid and Wolfgang Emerson adopted you when you were two from Seoul. The rest all kinda fell into place after that."

"Ah-ha." Part of the price of success—the loss of anonymity. It hadn't occurred to her before just what that might mean. The changes it could bring to the boundaries of her life.

A server popped up next to their table and set down the brownie on a clear glass plate. It was rich and dark brown with a sage leaf, crisped in brown butter and a knob of salted whip cream. The cappuccino, dusted with nutmeg and a foamy white heart, steamed in a bowl cup.

"So, since you know so much about me, why don't you tell me a bit about you?" Cait suggested. Flipping the table around, so to speak.

Stephen wiggled with a thought, cracked a smile. "Video games. Finished up my graphic design degree. Now I'm interning at a mid-level company, waiting for a chance to roll up the ranks to designer."

She listened intently as he told her all about school and the company he worked for. The different kinds of programs he'd help design and some of the bigger projects he was pushing forward.

"This time next year I could have my own booth at San Diego Comicon."

"You're such a nerd." Breaking off a chunk of brownie, she popped it into her mouth. And internally moaned at the explosion of rich, bitter chocolate, smoky sage and salty-sweet cream. "You don't look the type."

"My childhood was all sneaking comic books under the covers or glued to the telly with play station. It's all I'm good at. All I think about."

Cait certainly could appreciate that. "I get it."

"Yeah, I guess you do." Stephen loosened his shoulders, wiggled them out a bit. "I bet you're wondering why I decided to find you after all these years."

Sipping her coffee, Cait shrugged. "It's natural, I guess. You saw a connection. Got curious."

"Mum's sick." Stephen amended. "Yeah, about two months ago we found out it was cancer. Ovarian."

"Wait, what?"

"I know, right? Anyways, the doctors are optimistic but it put a lot of things into perspective for me. And I go to thinking—about life, family, which I why I started the search for the rest of us. And thought it would be brilliant if we could all be there for her, yeah? Maybe it would give her a reason to fight harder and beat this thing."

Cait blanched. Cold. She shivered against the hard slap of it. Even though sun streamed through the windows—flashed across her skin, she was so cold. Goosebumps raised the hairs on her arms. Her neck. Why didn't she bring a jacket?

"You look pale," Stephen commented.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"Look, Stephen..." Cait pressed a shaking hand to her chest. "I was okay with this being a simple hi, we're related coffee kind of one off thing. But I don't—I'm not interested in looking backwards."

Stephen straightened in his seat, eyes narrowed. "She's our mum."

"No. No she's not. I have a mom. I have a dad. And they live in Paris. They raised me all my life. They're my family."

"Not all of your life, Cait. And we're your family, too."

"No." She rose from her seat. Shouldered her purse. Clutched it like a shield. "No, you're blood. And that's different. I'm sorry, but I can't do this."

"Cait, I—"

"Please don't contact me again." Turning for the door, Cait ran.

**AN**

As promised, here's  a new Cait scene. After dropping that CRAAAZY bombshell, I hope you guys enjoyed finally meeting Stephen Bak. This was a tense chapter for me to write and it took a lot longer to pull these words out and to get into Cait's head. 

I realized, for someone like her - knowing she was adopted, but never feeling the need to look backwards and sort out where she came from really shaped this chapter. Discovering her fears, her insecurities and doubts about what might happen if she really opens that door.

Hope you enjoy it, and - yes - more will be coming soon LOL

Eshe is touching down in Spain to give Shayne a little Sisterhood loving.