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35
PAIGE
Rowan’s arms are a vise grip around my body. It’s been like this for minutes, and I’m not about to tell her to let go.
“I’m sorry,” I say for the billionth time.
When Rowan releases me, her eyes are wet. I feel close to tears myself. “You have to stop apologizing. You did what you had to do. Or Misha did. Either way, there was a reason.”
“You’re mad at me, though, aren’t you?”
“No,” she says a little too quickly. Then she sighs. “I was just so heartbroken when I heard, Paige. Getting the call from you was a shock. It made me feel like all that emotional trauma I went through was kinda a ‘gotcha’ moment. Which I know it wasn’t! But that’s how it felt.”
I don’t try to justify myself or give her more excuses. I’ve done all that already. So I just nod and accept her feelings as they are. “It must have been horrible.”
“The thing is…” She shakes her head. “No, never mind.”
“No, tell me.” I lead her to the chaise in the corner by my office window and pull her to the seat. “Please.”
She gives me a self-conscious smile and runs her fingers through her long blonde hair. It looks inches longer since I last saw her. Maybe I’ve been away longer than I thought.
“I’ve never really told you about my parents, have I?”
I shake my head.
She nods. “I think it’s because, if I don’t talk about them, I can pretend like I had a nice, normal family. The kind of dad who volunteered to be the softball coach. The kind of mom who baked cookies for the bake sale and picked me up on time every single day.”
I put my hand on hers. “I wouldn’t know how to relate to a person who had parents like that.”
Rowan laughs. “Here’s to the resilient kids of shit parents.”
Both of us descend into laughter. When we recover, the atmosphere has changed distinctly. It’s calmer now, ready for conversation and healing.
“My father was abusive,” she says without mincing her words. “Emotionally and physically. I used to hide under the staircase and watch while he hit my mother. If I interrupted, he’d hit me, too.”
My mouth drops open. “Oh my God, Rowan.”
She shakes off my horror as though she’s embarrassed by it. “The thing is, I was about six when my mother died. It was just my father and I after that. It was… well, it was what you would expect.”
She doesn’t go into details, and I can’t bring myself to ask.
“About a year before you and I met, I got a call from this girl. She said her name was Grace and she claimed that she was my half-sister. Apparently, my mother… She didn’t die. She left.”
I stare at Rowan in shock. “No…”
She nods sadly. “I confronted my dad about it shortly after I got that call. He told me that, when she left, he decided she was dead to him, so he just told me as much. I didn’t think there was anything worse than losing a parent so early. Turns out, it’s preferable to discovering that your mother abandoned you without thinking twice about it.”
“Oh, hon, you don’t know that.”
“Don’t I?” Rowan challenges.
I check myself. This is not the time to try to justify Rowan’s mother’s choices. “Have… have you spoken to your mother?”
“Fuck no!” she says. “I hung up on Grace, too. She called a few more times, but I didn’t pick up. I think she’s got the message now. She hasn’t tried to contact me in months.”
Rowan exhales slowly, and I get the impression that maybe a small part of her is disappointed that she hasn’t gotten a call recently. “I guess learning that you weren’t really dead brought it all back.”
“Shit, I can imagine,” I gasp. “I—”
