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Then he stepped forward, adjusting my form a little and encouraging me to resume the exercise with a gentle hand on my sh
oulder.
“I think that’s a great goal, Talia. You’re not shooting for less than what you want, and that’s good. Even if we don’t make that target, I admire your fighting spirit. Tell you what—I’ll do my part to get you there if you’ll do yours.”
By the time we finished our session an hour later, my entire body felt like a wet noodle. I hadn’t realized how much I was compensating for my injured leg, and how much strain it was putting on the rest of my body. Scott even identified and pointed out holding patterns I had that were leftover from the first time I’d broken my legs, ways of moving that had become so habitual I never even thought about them anymore.
He was way better than the first physical therapist I’d had. More knowledgeable, which allowed him to be tougher without risking me hurting myself.
When the Princes barged into the room to collect me, the receptionist trailing in their wake again, Mason took one look at my limp, sweaty form and seemed about ready to kill Scott. I turned to the trainer quickly and stuck out my hand.
“Thank you. That was so helpful. I’m really glad my grandpa found you.”
He took my proffered hand and shook it, a somewhat amused expression crossing his face. “You’re very welcome, Talia. I’m happy to be working with you too. The most important part of recovery is the motivation, and I can tell you’ve got that part down already. See you in a few days?”
“Sounds great. Thanks.”
I turned back to the four boys, moving slower than usual as I approached them. Mason still seemed to vibrate like a taut bowstring, but his expression held something like relief.
Cole slipped an arm around my waist as we left the training facility, and I leaned on him gratefully, letting him take some of my weight.
I felt like a baby deer trying to walk for the first time, and I hated it. But I knew from my previous recovery and years of dance training that this was how it went.
Improvement and recovery didn’t come quickly or easily.
There had to be pain before there was progress.
I had appointments scheduled with Scott every few days to start, and he’d said we would adjust as needed from there. But he’d given me some stretches and exercises to do at home on my own as well, so every night before bed for the rest of the week, I laid a yoga mat down in the living room and diligently went through each movement.
The movements themselves were easy, and there were several stretches I had to hold for an extended period of time, so I’d taken to scrolling on my phone as I let my body relax into the pose. On Friday night, bored of trying to find some connection between Adena’s family’s company and Element Investments—there was none, as far as I could see—I switched back to a search I had given up a while ago.
Adam Pierce.
I knew he wasn’t from Roseland originally, so maybe that was why the right Adam Pierce never came up when I searched for his name in connection to the town.
But I wasn’t sure what else to combine it with.
A thought suddenly struck me, and when I changed poses, I picked up my phone and found the article that mentioned the dissolution of Element Investments—the one that had a picture of Adam Pierce. I swiped the screen to zoom in and took a screenshot of his face. It wasn’t the highest quality, so I had no idea if it would work, but I plugged the screenshot into a reverse image search and held my breath as the results loaded.
There!
Several obviously incorrect pictures had popped up—including one that appeared to be of a female porn star—but on the third row down, there was an image of a young man with rich brown hair and a handsome, angular face.
It was him. The same guy. I was sure of it.
I clicked the picture and was taken to the alumni page of a school called Stonewall Academy, which was located in Haven Falls, Georgia. The text that ran alongside the image wasn’t all that helpful, but I exited out and then typed in “Adam Pierce Haven Falls”. As the results loaded, I scanned them, my heart beating a little faster as I realized I’d finally found the right Adam Pierce. Haven Falls must’ve been his hometown, where he’d gone to school before meeting my mom and her friends in college.
He must’ve had a generally unremarkable childhood, because I couldn’t find all that much information about him… except an obituary for his parents. They’d both died in a car wreck when he was nineteen years old, already away at college.
I chewed my lip so hard it drew blood as I scanned the text quickly.
His parents had died too?
Just like my mom.
Just like Mason’s mom.
It didn’t mean anything. People died all the time—it was the price everyone paid for living. There was no reason to assume any connection between his parents’ death and either mine or Mason’s. But that didn’t stop my stomach from twisting into knots as I found another picture of Adam Pierce and squinted at my phone, staring hard at the image.
