Chapter Five

Phoebe

"Okay, out with it. What's wrong?"

Startled out of my funk, I looked at Sarah who was rocking little Michael as she fed him from a bottle.

Her babies were getting so big.

Though not crawling yet, the girls were sitting up. It was little Mikey who refused to do anything. He wanted to be held, passed around, and he frequently made his displeasure known when he didn't get his own way.

He was his father's son.

The club nursery was one of my favorite places.

I loved everything about this room. From the whimsical pictures on the wall to the strong scent of baby powder that enveloped me as soon as I entered. Everything about this room just radiated happiness.

Only right now, it was making me feel worse.

"It's nothing, really. Just a bad day."

"I get that." Sarah nodded. "I get those days too, but you can't let whatever's bothering you stop you from living your life. Trust me. You let it win, and you will miss so much."

I knew Sarah was right.

As the youngest wife in the club, Sarah was still a child in my eyes. Smart as hell, but so very young. Yet she possessed a rare ability that most people my age still didn't comprehend.

The knowledge of owning who you were.

When Sarah stopped being what everyone else wanted and chose to be herself, she'd opened up an entirely new world for herself, where she did, said, and acted however she wanted. She didn't try to please anyone. She owned who she was and reveled in it.

The only problem I foresaw with doing just that was if I did it, then everyone would know.

The truth was a hard pill to swallow sometimes.

Plus, it wasn't just my truth.

So, instead of being honest, I lived a half-life.

For the last several years, I'd been lying to my parents, my sisters, my friends, but mainly I'd been lying to myself. Instead of leaning on my family, wrapping myself in my friends' embraces, I'd held myself off to the side and watched life slowly pass me by.

Over the years, I'd witnessed marriages, births, laughter, sorrow. I'd offered help, guidance, a shoulder to cry on when I was the one who really needed it the most.

I couldn't do it anymore.

I was so tired of being someone I wasn't.

I wanted so badly to tell Sarah, anyone, my truth, but every time I tried, I stopped, because it wasn't just my truth.

It was his, too.

And he was very adamant about no one knowing anything. Honestly, I didn't see what the problem was, but then again, he was the child of a serial killer.

I'd tried many times to make him understand that the sins of his father didn't negate his outcome. Life was a choice. He could either choose to be good or choose to be bad.

And contrary to what Shaw believed.

He was a good man.

A broken man, but good.

"I've never seen you like this, Phoebe," Sarah muttered. "It's weird, but seeing you right now, you're breaking my heart. Please tell me what's wrong."

"You are a wonderful mother, Sarah. You are kind, gentle, understanding, empathetic. Your babies are going to have a wonderful childhood all because of you."

"Phoebe, you're crying. Why?"

Wiping away my tears, I stood, lightly shaking my head and lied, "I think I have a headache coming on. I'm going to go lay down for a bit."

Leaving the nursery, I headed straight for my room when I ran into my brother. Standing there before him, he gently lifted my head and looked into my eyes, and that was all it took before I crumbled. Wrapping his strong arms around me, I let him guide me into my room and hold me while I cried for everything I'd lost and would never have.