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I couldn’t even remember how many times Dad had to come rescue me from some fucked up domestic disturbance. She was an alcoholic, and a mean one at that. When I was a kid, I obviously believed my mom was innocent and was the one on the receiving end, but it was my dad who slipped one night and told me the truth.
He’d told me about the times when she’d get drunk and hit him with things. He never hit her back, but he pinned her down on the floor one night until she tired herself out. She’d thrown one of the grates from a gas stove at his head, hit him in the face, and broke two of his molars out.
Dad didn’t want to leave her, but he didn’t want to hurt her either. He was easily three times her size, and if he’d fought back, it would have hurt her. So, he did what he thought was best. He thought it was the safest option for them both. It wasn’t long after that when she left for good.
It was years later, and I was seventeen when he finally told me that. I realized why he never let her come back, even though he loved her as much as he did. I was always convinced he’d love her and want to rescue her until the day he died.
Silent tears spilled out onto my cheeks when I realized he’d done just that.
My mom was a complicated woman, and when she was my mom, she was the best. She didn’t deserve to die. She needed help. She needed therapy to fix the years of bullshit she went through as a kid, and she needed AA and whatever else could help with the alcoholism. And my dad…
That man spent his whole adult life trying to support my mom and save her from herself. He worked his ass off to raise me alone, and he did a wonderful job. He made me strong. Took me to all kinds of classes so I could learn how to fight and defend myself. He taught me how to use weapons. He taught me to be strong and independent.
For their lives—along with those of all the others lost that day—to be taken so violently, so abruptly… My blood boiled.
My hands clenched into fists on the armrests, and my jaw tightened. If I ever saw that woman again—Angelaor whatever-the-fuck her name really was—I’d kill her myself. They didn’t even get a proper funeral.
I was given five minutes.Five. I was surrounded by six men in suits as they took me to my parents’ graves. When they saw the white lilies laying on each of their plots, they immediately tried to take me back to the car, but I demanded to stay.
I ran forward and grabbed those lilies from both graves and shredded them. Loud, angry screams tore from my throat as I stared down at the remains of those flowers scattered across the still settling earth containing my parents’ corpses.
After carefully lowering myself to my knees, I’d placed one hand on each of their graves. “I love you,” I’d said as I sobbed. My face was still contorted in anger, but I did my best to focus on them. “I know there were many things you didn’t tell me. Why, I don’t know, but I assume it must have been hard. You had your reasons, and as I learn more, I will try to keep an open mind.”
I’d turned to my dad’s grave then. “I know you did your best, Daddy. I know you raised me the best way you knew how. You were one of two boys with no sisters. It couldn’t have been easy for you having a little girl, but you did it. You made me strong, and I will never forget that.”
It hurt, but I’d leaned closer, as if I wanted to tell him a secret. Honestly, it was, because I didn’t want any of the men surrounding me to hear what I had to say. “I don’t know how, but I will find a way to find the people who did this. You have my word. They won’t get away with this.”
Groaning a little, I’d leaned back to my original position, placing one hand on each of their graves. “I love you both. When all this is over, I’ll come back. We’ll have a proper funeral. Actually, a party. I know you’d rather have a party in your honor than a depressing funeral.”
I’d placed a kiss on each of my hands and placed my hands on the ground one final time. “Goodbye,” I’d said before losing all resolve and crying.
After that, two of the men helped lift me to my feet, and they once again surrounded me as they walked me back to the large, black SUV and took me straight to the airport. It all happened so fast, and even staring out over the beautiful Midwest as it passed below us, rage burned in my blood.
I knew I’d find a way to make good on that promise, but for the time being, I needed to adjust. I needed to adapt. If I couldn’t get through a single day without dwelling on everything, I’d never get my head back on straight.
At that moment, I decided I’d allow myself the rest of the flight to mourn. To be sad. The moment we land, I’d begin my new life—whatever that may mean.
But once all this was over, once those assholes were caught and either killed or in prison for life,thenI’d mourn for real. I’d go home and have that party I promised them.
Until then, I was going to lay low, keep my nose out of trouble, do my best to stay under the radar, and not be noticed by anyone. If I managed that, I might be able to avoid anyone finding out who my biological father was, which would keep me out of an even bigger spotlight. And as long as no one recognized my face from the news, I’d be good to go.
Hopefully…
Hopefully this wouldn’t be so bad.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Ativan had worn off enough that my anxiety returned on the drive to the Avery home. After leaving the hospital earlier, I was taken to my house to pack. Again, I was given a time limit. Thirty minutes to pack—even with someone doing it for me while I gave instructions—and say goodbye to the only place I’d ever really lived was not enough.
The only thing that kept me on task was knowing that once the life insurance came in, I’d be able to pay it off, and Rick had agreed to keep it out of foreclosure until then. Apparently, the bank account and bank card in my name had more than enough money in there to do just that.
When the bougie limo slowed, my eyes widened, and my jaw fell slightly open as we pulled onto a long driveway with beautiful dogwoods lining both sides. With the center screen down, I could see ahead to a massive house. It had to be at least ten thousand square feet or more. Why on earth would anyone need a house that big? I didn’t even know senators made that kind of money, but then again, I hated politics.
How convenient my birth father was a politician given that hatred.
The end of the drive was a hollowed-out circle with a large fountain in the middle. As the car rounded the fountain, it slowed to a stop just in front of the steps leading up to the home. Several people waited there with smiles on their faces, though two faces didn’t have them—Harper and a woman who I assumed was her mother. They looked too much alike to be anything else, and both had resting bitch face down to a T. The RBF wasstrongin that family. Neither looked happy to see the car.
Fan-fucking-tastic, I thought.
