“That’s okay,” Reid says. “We can block her number and you never have to worry about her calling you again.”
“Why the hell did she even try calling me in the first place?”
He scoffs. “Probably wants some bullshit kind of closure to make herself feel better.”
He’s probably right.
And it’s so unfair I want to scream.
Why does she get to decide to disrupt my life after everything else she’s done?
I know she was fifteen when she had me, but she stillchose her family, her community, her religion, over the shame that my existence brought her. I didn’t choose to be born into her world.
Just like I didn’t choose to be taken out of it.
But I can choose this.
I grab my phone and pull up the unknown number. It’s right there at my fingertips. The ability to shut her back out and leave her in the past.
But why is there an inkling at the back of my head telling me not to block her? To maybe keep that line of communication open, just in case?
I don’t need closure with her.
I don’t needanythingfrom her.
And yet…
My head feels like it could explode from all of the racing thoughts and heightened emotions. If anyone can help me try to make sense of this, and not judge me for anything regarding the situation, it’s the man holding me.
“I know you said you visited your mother’s grave, and that was enough for you,” I say, needing to get his insight. “But have you ever thought about getting closure with your father?” He’s never mentioned his father in any of the rare times he’s opened up about his childhood. And even from what I remember when we were both at the foster house, he never mentioned a dad.
Reid’s entire body freezes, his arm growing rigid around my shoulders and skin turning cold. I crane my head to look up at him.
“I tried that,” he says stiffly. “Didn’t go too well.”
27
Reid
Past
Iarrive in Lancaster a little after 5:00 pm.
The open house listing sits on my phone, blaring at me from the cupholder. If only the GPS knew what it was directing me toward.
All my life, I never thought I would try to find him. Figured if he didn’t give a shit about me, I shouldn’t give one about him.
But I suddenly have a lot of time on my hands while the band is on hiatus for Nikolai and Hayden to recover mentally from the horrors they witnessed at the beginning of summer.
To go from touring nonstop, always with my brothers, to sitting in an empty house with my calls always going to voicemail…maybe it’s made me go slightly insane.
Because why else would I be here, pulling into the driveway of a small, ranch-style home in Pennsylvania.
There’s only one other car parked here. Hopefully it’s his.
As soon as I turn the car off, I force myself to get out. If I sit, I’ll think. If I think, I might turn around and fly back to LA.
I’m here. Rip the bandage off.
