I sat there, every muscle braced for impact. Caden ramped up again, crowding every thought. He didn't want patience. He wanted truth and more than that, he wanted Tash and the girls.
Don't blow it, I told myself. Keep it together. Just be honest.
I heard her footsteps on the side gravel a minutelater. She hesitated at the threshold, then slipped inside. I didn't breathe for a full second, too busy cataloging every detail of her like my body thought she might vanish again.
She looked the same as ever. Hair pulled back, subtle earth tones, eyes bright and unreadable. She wore a fitted jacket over field clothes, and her boots still had traces of damp along the treads. She scanned the bakery in a heartbeat, not nervous exactly, just alert.
Her gaze landed on me, and her whole body tensed.
"Hey," I said gently. "Come on back."
She nodded, lips pressed tightly closed, and let me lead her into the office. Up close, I could see the strain around her mouth. Even with the exhaustion in her eyes, she was beautiful in a way that hit too deep, the kind that made my chest feel unsteady.
I shut the door. No one else would come in, but I needed a barrier between us and the whole damn world.
She stayed standing, hands in her jacket pockets, and waited.
I didn't waste time. "I know who the twins are. The second I saw them, I knew. You don't have to explain."
She went pale. "How?"
I dropped into the chair, rooting around the top drawer. My hand hit the envelope of pictures I'd printed yesterday. I slid the picture across the desk, face up.
"My mother," I said. "She confessed to paying you off after I spotted you three at the parade. I told her about the girls, and she finally told me everything."
Tash stared at the photo. Her eyes went glassy behind her lashes.
There was Mom, age around sixteen, hair wild down her back, a stubborn set to her jaw. The resemblance was uncanny. It shone through even though the shot was faded and almost sepia.
"Wow," she breathed.
Tash touched the edge of the photo with shaking fingers. She dug her phone out and snapped a picture, then clutched the phone to her chest.
I gripped the desk, fighting off a surge of heat under my skin. "You know what pisses me off?" I said, teeth clenched. "I missed sixteen years of their lives, not to mention the nearly year you were pregnant. Every damn day. Because nobody told me, I don't even know both of their names."
She shut her eyes and let out a trembling breath. "Fiona and Meredith. I tried to find you. I swear. I told your mother because I couldn'tfind you anywhere. I didn't know where you went to college, what you were studying, if you even stayed in Tennessee."
I blinked. "You truly didn't know? All this time?"
She shook her head. "Nobody knew. I asked around, tried to get your last name from people at the party. Finally tracked down someone who remembered your last name, but by then, your mom said you'd moved away for school. I asked her to give me your number. She said you didn't need the stress. She said you couldn't have kids, that you were infertile, that I shouldn't upset you with something impossible."
Her hands fisted around her phone. The tears weren't falling yet, but her eyes glittered.
"She gave me a check," Tash whispered, "told me I'd be better off. I didn't touch the money for a year. I only use it now to pay the income taxes on it. The rest is in a portfolio, saved for the girls. For college or emergencies. I kept every cent. I wanted to bring them to you instead."
I pressed my knuckles to my lips, furious and helpless all at once.
"What else could you have done?" I asked, desperate to rewind time somehow. "How'd you even keep looking?"
She set the phone down and braced both palms on the desk. "I came back, even though I'd signed thatstupid paper of your mother's. I came to Laurel Gap after the twins were born. Drove straight to your old house, where I'd talked to your mother. It was boarded up. No sign of anyone. No mail, no neighbors who remembered anything. I tried the internet. Years of it. Social media, alumni sites, even the white pages. Nothing. It's like you never existed."
Caden howled at the reminder. I didn't blame her. After hunters killed my father and uncle, my family became obsessed about erasing ourselves. Mom switched houses every few years, always under shell companies, always paying in cash. Even utilities got run through dummy names.
I tried to explain. "It's not you, it's us. We move around. We keep a low profile."
She gave me a sharp look. "Why?"
The truth wanted out so bad I tasted copper.
