Chapter 57

"Are you sure?" Jace asks, looking from my house to me. "I can speak to the professor. I'm sure it won't be a problem."

We're sitting in his van at the front of my house, with the engine running, and I can sense Jace's uncertainty in the tone of his voice. I didn't want to go to school, for obvious reasons, and Jace would've stayed home too, but he has college classes today.

"It's first thing…" Jace adds. "The test. It goes for an hour, and I can come straight back."

"No, it's okay." I turn to him. "I think I just need the day with my dad. Talk it out with him and get some answers."

"Are you sure?" he asks again.

"I'll be fine." The truth is, I won't be. But what choice do I have? I can't hide out in Jace's room forever, no matter how much I want to. The realities of my life won't change just because I choose to ignore them. I lean across the cab to kiss his cheek. "I'll text you." Then I hop out and make my way up the porch steps, wishing I was anywhere but here.

My brother is dead.

My mom is gone.

And my dad…

My dad is at the kitchen table when I enter the house, and just like me, it's obvious he hasn't slept. He stands when he sees me, his eyes tracking me from head to toe, stopping at my face—my cheek, specifically. It's not as bad as it was last night, but the aftermath of Mom's destruction still shows.

He winces, but it's all he does, and it's clear that he's hesitant to speak. Hesitant to approach.

I feel the same way.

He clears his throat, then asks, "Coffee?"

I nod, make my way into the room, and sit at my usual spot.

"I know you have a lot of questions," Dad says, setting the steaming hot mug in front of me. "And I'll answer whatever I can, sweetheart."

Tears instantly well at his words, at his gentle tone. I may not have grown up with the best mother in the world, but I always had him. Always. "Have you spoken to either of them?" I ask, and I don't know why it matters, but it does.

"No. And I don't plan to. They're dead to me, Harlow."

I nod, stare down at the coffee warming my hands. "I called her work to see what shifts she was working. She doesn't work nights like she told us. She works days, and she spends her nights with him. They live together. She calls their house home."

Dad's quiet a long moment, no doubt taking in my mother's endless lies. Finally, he asks, "How did you find out?"

I tell him the truth. Every heartbreaking part of it. And when I'm done, he sits in silence, his mind working. Eventually he says, "Your mother?—"

"Marcella," I cut in. "I don't have a mother."

Sad, sad eyes lock on mine, and he nods, smiles through his misery. "Marcella always needed to be the center of attention. It's kind of how she caught my eye, so I never really had a problem with it. The first few years we were together were great. We got married and got pregnant and everything was perfect. And then we had your brother, and that's when things changed. She was no longer the center of the universe. I tried as hard as I could to split my attention evenly, but even that wasn't enough. I could tell then that she was jealous of her own son."

I sigh, shaking my head as I stare down at the table, unable to comprehend the level of selfishness one person can possess.

"She justified her actions by saying she found someone else who gave her the attention I wasn't giving her anymore. He was a surgeon at the hospital. And when she found out she was pregnant, she told him, hoping he would whisk her away and provide a new life for her. But he didn't want that, and so she came to me. She told me the truth, that it could be either of ours, and to be honest, I left her. For a few weeks. And then I came back. For Harley. And for you. Because whether or not you were biologically mine, you were still Harley's sister, and that meant that I would love you unconditionally."

I take in his words, one after the other, and let them sink in. There are a lot of things in this world that I'm uncertain of, but my dad's love for me isn't one of them. After clearing the knot in my throat, I say, "Jace said that some parents stay together for the sake of their kids. Like maybe you were waiting until I left for college to leave her. Is that true?"

"It's a lot more complicated than that."

A sob slips from my lips, and Dad reaches for me, but I pull away. I don't want to cause him pain, but I don't understand. I keep my gaze low, my voice lower. "You need to explain it to me, Dad, because I keep going through everything in my mind, over and over, and you had all these opportunities to leave her and take me with you, and you didn't, and I don't understand why."

Dad sighs, rubbing the emotion away from his eyes. "Because I didn't know if you were mine, Harlow. And I knew that if I left, your mother would use that against me. If you weren't mine—biologically—then she could stop me from seeing you. Staying was the only way I could ensure that I was still in your life, and it was the only way I could watch over you to make sure she didn't ruin you." He sniffs back his heartache, then adds, "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I should've done better by you, but I didn't want to lose you."

I cry now, big, fat, endless tears that won't seem to quit, and I stand, too anxious to sit still. "Why didn't you want to know? Why not get the DNA test?"

"Because it didn't matter to me," he says, his voice firm. He gets to his feet and reaches for my shoulder. This time, I let him. "Look at me, Harlow," he begs, and I lift my eyes to his. Harley had his eyes. His nose. His smile. Even his frown. Everything I am comes from my mother, or at least, I thought it did. "It didn't matter to me whether your were mine or not, I knew in my heart I would raise you as my own. But I understand if you want to find out who your real father is, and if you want to build a relationship?—"

"I don't," I cut in, forcing myself to breathe through the pain.

"No?"

I shake my head.

"Why not?"

"Because it doesn't matter to me, either."

I feel so little in my dad's embrace, just like all the times he'd hugged me in the past. From scraped knees to heartbreak, to grief and absolute devastation.

The only solace I'd ever found was right here… in his arms.

Until Jace.

Dad clears the emotion from his throat, looking away to wipe his eyes. "I take it you're not going to school today?"

"No."

"Yeah, I wouldn't either," he mumbles, then runs a finger over the pendant hanging from my neck. "What's this?"

I grasp the ruby-red number five. "Jace gave it to me."

Even behind his beard, I can see a slight smile there. "It's Harley's number."

"Yeah…"

"Not his?"

I shake my head.

"He's a good man, Harlow."

"I know."

"And I'm glad you have him."

Me too, I don't say out loud, but God do I feel it. There's no way I could've survived last night had Jace not been there for me.

"Listen, I've canceled my next job," he says, "so I'll be home the next few days if you want to talk or…"

"Honestly, I'm so tired right now. I think I just need to go lie down."

Dad nods, but I can see the uncertainty in his stare.

I start to leave the kitchen, but stop at the doorway. "Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever think about how Harley would feel—if he saw us now?"

Dad's eyes drift shut. "That one thought has kept me up all night."

"Me too," I whisper, pausing a beat before exiting.

I make it to the first step on the stairs before Dad calls out, "Harlow?"

I freeze, turn to him.

"Are you okay?"

I force a smile. "Yeah."

He's silent a beat. Then, "Are we okay?"

"Yeah, Dad. We're okay." I race up to my room, lock the door behind me, and wallow in the realization that my mother and I—we're more alike than I want to admit… because lying to the faces of the men I love was easy.

Almost too easy.