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  “Before I came along, she and Caven were living a blissfully quiet life. She might not have a mom, but peace and safety are a hell of a lot more than Hadley and I ever had. She’ll grow up one day. Only”—my voice cracked with emotion as I did the math—“fourteen more years before she can do whatever she wants. With Hadley on her birth certificate, she’ll always have a link to me. And if she wants to find me, I’ll be there waiting and ready to tell her all about the other side of her. If not…” Oh my God, why does doing the right thing hurt so fucking bad? “Well, then, at least I know she’s happy.”

  “Willow, honey. Come on. We can fight this.”

  “No. No more fighting. Someone has to win here. After everything we’ve been through, someone deserves to be happy. I want it to be Caven and Rosalee.” My chin quivered, but there were no more tears. Resolve settled heavily in my veins. “He’s a good man. She’s safe with him. What more could I possibly ask for?”

  Beth let out a sigh and then pulled me into a hug. “Please tell me you realize that this isn’t the end for you. You’ll find a man and start a family of your own one day. You can adopt a whole herd of babies. And, until then, you have me. I’m a way better sister than Hadley anyway. She didn’t even like wine.”

  I laughed, but it was sad even to my own ears. Pain in the ass that she was, I missed my sister. I missed my mom. I missed my dad. I missed my grandpa.

  And most of all, I missed Caven and Rosalee.

  It was over, but as selfish as it made me sound, I didn’t regret any of it.

  It had been the happiest four months of my entire life.

  I had pictures of her.

  Memories of her laughter.

  Silly art projects to remind me how lucky I’d been.

  And, now, I knew what loving a man was supposed to feel like.

  I didn’t know if I’d ever find that with anyone else. The rational side of me told me I would. The broken shards of my heart weren’t clinging to much hope. But I’d had four incredible months with Caven. So what that he’d spent over half of them glaring at me from across his dining room table. That had all been erased the second his lips had touched mine.

  It was enough.

  It would have to be enough.

  “Get me the paperwork. I’ll sign whatever he wants me to.”

  CAVEN

  “Did you know it was Willow?” I rumbled into the phone as I watched Rosalee run through the sprinkler.

  It took nine damn days for my brother to finally call me back. And when he did, it wasn’t necessarily by choice. I’d called Jenn, sent text messages, and finally tracked him down at work, leaving a message that he had twenty-four hours before I would beat down his door in Pennsylvania.

  “Did I have my suspicions that she was a woman named Willow? Yes. But did I think she was the girl you met in the mall named Willow? Hell no.” He sighed heavily into the phone. “I spent three years before you went off to college begging you to tell me about what happened inside that food court. All you ever gave me were a bunch of grunts and door slamming. How was I supposed to know?”

  “You still could have said something though. You at least knew she wasn’t Hadley.”

  “What did you want me to say? ‘Oh, by the way, I’m not sure the woman you’re fucking is actually your baby mama’?”

  “That would have been a start.”

  “You were in too deep to see anything but her. I saw the way you looked at her. If I came to you with no hard evidence, you would have told me to fuck off. I see it every day on the job. You can’t make people believe the worst in someone when all they’ve ever shown them was the best.”

  I scoffed. “She’s shown me plenty of bad.”

  “No, she didn’t. Hadley did. The woman who came back was the Crown Princess of Perfection. She didn’t push the custody shit with Rosalee. She asked your permission for everything. She made you comfortable, and then she made you happy. Rosalee loved her. You loved seeing Rosalee love her, so you turned into some kind of puppy on a chain. And I’m not going to lie, Caven. I didn’t exactly hate seeing you happy, either.”

  “Bullshit. You hated her.”

  “Yes. Her. Because she was playing you for a fool. So I told her my theory. Worst case, I was wrong and she got pissed. What the fuck did I care? Best case? I was right and I saved you from heartache down the road. And I was right. I could see it the minute I brought up her twin sister. But all that aside, I like the idea of you having a woman. You can put your dick wherever you want, but maybe next time, let me give the stamp of approval before you bring her home to meet the kid? Yeah?”

  “It’s hard to get a stamp of approval when it takes over a week to get in touch with you.”

  He groaned. “Give it a rest, little brother. I already told you I didn’t have any cell phone service while I was camping.”

  “You were camping for four days.”

  “Oh, right.” He chuckled. “I forgot you talked to Jenn. Yeah. Okay, fine. All the other days, I was trying to avoid this bitchfest.”

  Yep. That was Trent. My life was in shambles and he was trying to avoid a bitchfest. He cared just enough to corner a frightened woman who he thought might be scamming me, but not enough to have a conversation with me about it.

  “Right,” I drawled before shooting a placating smile at Rosalee as she aimed the sprinkler in my direction. Luckily, it was far enough away not to reach the deck, where I was sitting fully clothed and not particularly interested in joining in her water day. “Anyway, she signed the paperwork. It’s done.”

  “I cannot believe you’re going to let her walk away scot-free. This has fraud and prison time written all over it.”

  “Yes. Just what I want to tell Rosalee one day. My dad killed your grandparents, which ruined your mother’s life, led to your conception, then her death, and then I had your aunt put in jail for pretending to be someone she isn’t because she loves you. No, thank you. My conscience is currently full. Willow can take a number and wait for her spot to come available.”

  “You didn’t do any of that shit though. People make choices, Caven. Willow made hers.”

  “Kinda like the choice we made not to tell the cops about those pictures after the shooting?”

  “Shut your fucking mouth,” he hissed. “We did what we had to do after he left us to clean up his mess. You think for one second we’d have the lives we do now if they knew what a sick fuck he was?”

  “He killed forty-eight people. I think the general consensus is he was a sick fuck.”

  Frustration seeped from his voice. “I’m not talking about this shit with you again. He’s dead. He got a fucking bullet in the chest. The whole fucking world can sleep better knowing he’s gone. The rest of it doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “It might for the families.”

  “You know what? Fuck you. I’m done having this conversation. Your life is falling apart and you’re trying to take it out on me for decisions we made eighteen years ago. Go take your bullshit out on Ian. I gotta get back to work.”

  I clenched my teeth. I wasn’t being fair. But with all the shit about the mall and Malcom coming back up recently, I was once again struggling with the decision we’d made not to tell the police about the pictures I’d found that morning after the shooting.

  But Trent was right. That maniac was dead.

  He ended the call without so much as a goodbye.

  As I set my phone down, I attempted a sigh of relief, but there was no solace to be found in any of this.

  Hadley…Willow…whoever… That woman had no rights to my daughter. But for all intents and purposes, I’d taken away her last blood relative.

  I should have been celebrating, not feeling like an asshole. But then again, guilt was my forte.

  I’d taken off over a week from work to stay at home with Rosalee, and each and every day, she’d asked about Hadley. I’d put her off by telling her that Hadley was sick. Christ, I didn’t know how I was ever going to explain this to her. Al
ejandra had been badgering me to tell her the truth, but I didn’t have the right words. I wasn’t even sure the right words existed.

  Our story was too complex. Too traumatic. Too depressing. Too much for me to handle, much less my four-year-old daughter.

  But it was the betrayal that I couldn’t seem to get over. Given enough time to mull it over, I felt like a part of me understood why Willow had done it. I’d lie, cheat, and steal my way back to Rosalee if someone tried to keep her from me. But I couldn’t get over the fact that she’d done it to me. A person she claimed to love. What a load of bullshit. Lies upon lies upon lies until the truth became an abstract concept. I wasn’t sure I would ever get over that.

  But then I looked at Rosalee. And I remembered the terrified and bleeding little girl who told me that she’d forgive me.

  My father had killed her parents and she’d forgiven me.

  And there I was, fuming because she wanted to know her niece.

  But fuck, she had not handled it in the right way.

  After hearing what Ian had to say about the journals, I’d been too big of a coward to read all of them.

  But I’d read one.

  One about Willow.

  According to her sister, they had once been best friends. Willow was the smart one. The pretty one. The kind one. The honest one. She made friends wherever they went but preferred the quiet of being at home. After the shooting, she diligently went to therapy and tried to drag Hadley with her. In her own words, Hadley referred to herself as the bastard of the family despite being a few minutes older than Willow. She was bitter that Willow had “had it easy” during the shooting. Angry that she’d found “ways to deal with the aftermath of that day at the mall.” And resentful that Willow was able to carry on with her life while Hadley was still stuck in that cabinet for years to come.

  And all of this was just on paper. I couldn’t imagine how often she’d taken her emotions out on Willow. Or how hard it must have been to fight for a survivor who didn’t want to survive.

  I ached for them.

  For both of them.

  But most of all, I ached for…

  “Daddy?” Rosalee called, trotting toward me.

  “Right here, sweet girl.”

  She snagged her towel off the chair beside me and then held it out to me in a silent order. I wrapped her like a burrito, only her wrinkly little toes sticking out, and then settled her in my lap.

  Her bright, green eyes peered up at me as she asked, “Is Hadley coming over today?”

  I flinched. With the ink drying on the paperwork, Hadley would never be coming over again. I pretended like that didn’t feel like a punch to the gut.

  I needed to tell her. I needed to find words and break her heart—quick like a Band-Aid.

  But she was four. She shouldn’t have to deal with this kind of bullshit. Her only concern should be rainbows and butterflies and how she was going to afford her llama farm one day.

  That wasn’t her life though. That wasn’t any of our lives.

  And it never would be.

  I could give it to her easy. Offer her the bare minimum of facts and ease her into the cold, hard truth as she got older. Just my luck, the first of the five Ws was who.

  “No, baby. She isn’t coming over anymore. Not today. Not ever again.”

  “What?” she shrieked, fighting out of her towel. “Why not? Is she still sick? We should take her some soup. We should take her some of Ale’s soup. Hers is better than yours.”

  Alejandra also had better parenting instincts than I did, because I now had to explain that Hadley had never actually been sick.

  “She’s not sick.” I shifted her in my lap, her wet bottom soaking through the towel to my shorts. Okay. I’d started; now, I just had to keep going.

  “Is Hadley dead?”

  My back shot straight. “What? No!” Well, technically, yes. But… “Why would you ask that?”

  “Because Jacob’s grandma got sick for a really long time and then she died. He said they planted her in the ground like a seed.” Her red brows furrowed. “Is Hadley going to be a flower?”

  I made a mental note to bribe Jacob’s father to take a job out of the country before once again gathering my nerve. “No. She’s not dead. As far as I know, she’s at her house right now, painting pictures or doing whatever she does. But we still can’t see her. I need to explain to you a few things about that and I need you to really listen because it might be hard for you to understand, okay?”

  “Sure,” she chirped, already wiggling in my lap.

  I had about three minutes before she got bored of talking to me. I had to make them count.

  Dread pooled in my stomach. Once I told her, there was no going back. No pretending. No ignoring. No figuring out how to build a time machine. Nothing. Once this clusterfuck hit her ears, it couldn’t be unsaid.

  Even if there was a part of me that would always wish it could be changed.

  “The lady who comes to teach you art, her name isn’t really Hadley. Her name is Willow and she’s your mommy’s sister.”

  A slow smile split her face. “I have a mommy?”

  My stomach wrenched. “You had a mommy, yes. Her name was Hadley.”

  “Hadley is my mommy!” she shrieked.

  Technically, the answer was yes, but she wasn’t talking about the real Hadley.

  “No,” I stated firmly. “Her name was Hadley, but she died, kind of like Jacob’s grandma.”

  Her smile fell so fast that I could almost hear the crash.

  “But I’m sure she loved you and was sad that she didn’t get to meet you.” I wasn’t sure if that was true or not. But it seemed like the right thing to say at the time.

  She stared at me, almost emotionless. I hadn’t expected her to crumble at this news. For kids, missing something they never had was a hard concept. I had a feeling losing her beloved friend and art teacher was when the emotions were going to come into play.

  “So, the thing is, Willow, the lady who was teaching you art, she lied to us. And it was a bad lie. So, we can’t see her anymore.”

  I waited for the fallout. Braced for the tears when her mind finally wrapped around my words.

  Instead she gasped, full-on soap opera mode. “Hadley knew my mommy?”

  “Yes. But remember, her name is actually Willow. They were sisters. Twins, actually.”

  Another gasp. “Twins like Molly and Gabby?”

  I nodded.

  Gasping wasn’t enough that time. She palmed either side of my face, squishing my cheeks together as she often did when she got excited, and then yelled, “My mommy looks like Hadley!”

  I pried her hands away. “Rosie, baby, listen for a second. Her name is Willow.” Why did I have to keep saying her name? It felt like a rusty blade from the past each and every time. But if I was being honest with myself, it was a rusty blade from the present too. I missed her.

  Hadley.

  Willow.

  Whoever the fuck she was.

  I missed her.

  Rosalee hopped off my lap. “Can we go tell Hadley? She’s going to be so excited.”

  Shit. This was going downhill fast. It was time to stop this runaway train. Blunt. And to the point. That’s what kids understood. “We can’t see Willow anymore. She lied to Daddy about a lot of stuff. I’ll get you a new art teacher. I’ll—”

  “What? Why? You lie all the time. You told me I didn’t even have a mommy. Just a daddy. And you told me that you rescued a seal on Rosie Posie Day.”

  I sat up straighter in my chair. She had a point. “I did do that. I was trying to protect you though. Except for the seal. That was a joke.”

  “Maybe Hadley was joking.”

  “She wasn’t.”

  She planted her hands on her hips. “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes. I do.”

  “You could be wrong. Did you ask her?”

  “Sweetie. Rosie. Listen. There are good lies and bad lies. Hadl—Willow told bad li
es. The kind that are not a joke. The kind that are not funny. The kind that could hurt people. I get that you liked her. I liked her too. But—”

  “What kind of lies?”

  “Bad ones.”

  She stomped her foot. “Like what?”

  I sighed. “It doesn’t matter. It’s my job to protect you. And—”

  “What kind of lies!” This was yelled at exactly one decibel below a dog whistle.

  There it was. The confusion. The surprise. The anger. The rage. All the emotions I’d been feeling since I’d found out that the woman I was in love with was…well, not the woman I thought I was in love with. But this time, the hurt was ten times more potent because the emotions were ravaging my baby.

  I scooted to the edge of my seat and plucked her off her feet, settling her on my lap again. “She told me she was your mommy. She tricked me so she could spend time with you.”

  Her eyes lit. “But that’s a good lie. Uncle Ian does it all the time to spend time with me. He told you he needed my help at the bank, but we really just went to get ice cream.”

  “Yes, but Ian was joking, and he’s not a stranger. He’s Daddy’s best friend.”

  And then she backed me into the corner that I knew existed. The one that had a blinking neon sign over the top of it. The one that had two stools and a craft table. The corner that had absolutely nothing to do with me and the betrayal I felt.

  “But Hadley is my mommy’s sister. She’s not a stranger.”

  “Rosie.”

  Big, fat tears rolled from her eyes. “She draws really good. And she’s fun. Please let her come back, Daddy. Please.”

  I didn’t have much of a heart left, but it was breaking all the same.

  Her bottom lip pouted. “When I lie, you just put me in timeout. Maybe you can put Hadley in timeout and she can come over next time.”

  I wanted to say yes. I wanted to take it all away from her.

  I’d caused this. I’d allowed it to happen. I’d let my defenses down, assumed that the cloud of chaos was done with me. I put my trust in a woman and ended up with not one, but two broken hearts—three if you counted Willow’s.