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CHAPTER SIX
Nothing could have prepared Tara for the shame and guilt washing over her as she watched the Mills family run out of the big house the moment they heard Owen’s truck drive up the long, winding mountain road to the stone lodge on the Colorado mountain hill.
Tara slumped in her seat while Owen hopped out of his side, opening Frankie’s door to grab her in his arms so she could meet her father’s family. The loud laugh of Adam Mills, the firstborn of five siblings, boomed through the front shield window.
From an outsider looking in nothing would seem out of the ordinary; just another sunny September day at Mills Bed & Breakfast with not only guests coming and going, but also their entire family milling around the big house.
Tara never understood the need to willingly hang out with family—maybe because she never knew with her mom if she would start a fight about nothing. And luckily, she barely remembered anything from the time her father had lived with them. She could however, vividly bring up the time he needed a place to stay after he got out of prison. Tara had been sixteen when they fled Detroit in the middle of the night, leaving a bloodied and unconscious Eric Houston behind on the kitchen floor.
He showed up out of the blue in this picturesque town two years later. Tara’s mother had left their apartment above Jenny’s Mountain Bistro that morning to go to work four towns over, leaving Tara all alone at Eric Houston’s mercy.
A knock on the passenger window brought her out of her musings. She brought a hand to her chest as she eyed Owen’s mother, Lauren, standing on the other side of her door. Her heart pounded against her chest, as she tried to read Lauren’s mood.
Her first instinct when Lauren opened her door was to pull it shut again. Tara shot out her hand to do just that, but reconsidered last minute. She wasn’t an eighteen-year-old girl anymore. Not only was she twenty-four now; she was also Frankie’s mom. Frankie deserved better than a mother who hid in the truck while she would meet her father’s family for the first time.
Tara unbuckled her seatbelt and squared her shoulders. Before she could fully exit Owen’s truck, Lauren reached inside.
“Come here, Tara,” Lauren said, already pulling her in for one of her signature tight hugs.
“We’ll have a talk later. After you two are settled in,” Laura said before she let go.
Tara mumbled, “Okay.”
Frank half-heartedly waved at her from a distance, clearly not intending to come up and hug her like his wife did.
Tara understood and waved back. Instead of chasing her all over town, the Mills’es kept things civil as they refrained from causing a scene. Even Mason and Lily, two of Owen’s siblings she feared the most to give her a little piece of truth, kept their mouths shut. They hadn’t greeted her, though. Lily’s frosty glare even had chills running up her spine.
Tara shifted on her feet, her eyes following a leaf blowing in the wind. She had made her bed and now she literally had to lay in it. She wondered if Owen still had that room up in the big house next to the side entrance and if she would stay with Frankie in a room nearby.
It would be hard facing his family’s disapproving looks day in and day out. But there was no going back now. Deep down, Tara felt relieved that they finally knew about Frankie and vice versa. This reunion had been long overdue.
“Hi, Tara. How are you?”
The first person to ask her how she felt during all of this had to be none other than Owen’s younger sister, Chloe.
Chloe hugged her just as tight as her mother had done, and Tara felt like she could breathe for the first time after stepping out of Owen’s truck.
“I’m so sorry, Chlo.”
Chloe shook her head and whispered, “I know. I wish I could tell you that it’s okay, but I would never lie to you. For now, all that matters is that you both are safe and here with us.”
“Thanks.”
Tara took in the twenty-one-year old, and smiled while pointing at Chloe’s hair. “You still wear it pink.”
“I want pink hair, Mommy!”
Tara picked up Frankie who already shot out her hand to grab a strand of long, pink hair of Chloe.
“It’s okay,” Chloe said with a soft smile when Tara started to pull Frankie away from her hair.
“Why does your hair look like a pink doll?”
Chloe’s cheeks pinked just like her hair, as she probably hated how everyone was looking at their interaction. Even though Chloe was three years younger than her, Tara had always clicked the most with Chloe. Perhaps because they both didn’t felt the need to make themselves heard like some of these other Mills’es.
“My brother once colored my hair this way and it kinda stuck. I love it,” Chloe said.
“My dad did that?”
