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"A lot can happen in two weeks. A lot can happen in an instant. You only get one life, Brynn. If music is what you need to do, then do it. Everything else will work out."
"You make it sound simple, but it feels selfish."
"Your sister will survive. She can find a manager for the store. You can keep in touch with her. You can be supportive."
"I owe her, Kade. I don't think I would have survived after my mom died without Dani. She was everything to me. She was only born twenty-two minutes before me, but she has always been my big sister, my second mother. We are incredibly close. Sometimes, it feels like we're one person."
"But you're not. You're two individuals who can love each other and still have their own lives. Maybe I don't completely understand the bond of twins, but perhaps it's not the bond that makes you want to choose safety over risk. Maybe that’s just what you want to choose. And if that's the case, then that's fine. It's your life. You get to decide what you want."
"I don't think I've ever made a decision without thinking about Dani."
He met my gaze. "Maybe it's time to start."
"Maybe." I wasn't entirely sure I could ever be as free to choose as Kade thought I should be. But I didn't want to talk about it any further. "We should probably get back to the house."
Kade nodded and called the server over to request the check. We headed down the street a few minutes later, arriving just minutes before the locksmith showed up.
While Kade worked with him on the locks, I went up to my mother's bedroom to start cleaning up. The destruction felt even worse in this room, as if a horrible rage had been completely unleashed. Everything was ripped and broken. Devastation was everywhere I looked. I couldn’t bear to see my mom's clothes slashed into pieces, especially the dresses she'd bought from our boutique. It felt too personal. I left the closet and moved over to the desk, where everything from inside the drawers had been dumped on the floor.
The file folders were mostly filled with receipts and bills for utilities and online retailers. Nothing seemed particularly important. My eye caught on a folder that had slid under the desk. I opened it to find a half-dozen envelopes, all addressed to the same place in Brooklyn, New York. As I picked up one of the envelopes, it felt like there was something inside. Opening it, I was shocked to discover five one-hundred-dollar bills.
I looked back at the front of the envelope. There was a return address label with the name Children's Support Network and my mother's address. As I read the name of the addressee, my jaw dropped in surprise.
It was addressed to Louise Beckham. Kade's last name was Beckham. That couldn't be a coincidence. Kade had said his relationship with my mother had started through art.Was that a lie?My heart raced with more questions. I felt like I was standing on the edge of another cliff.
CHAPTERELEVEN
"The locksmith is done,"Kade said.
I jumped at the sound of his voice.
"I have keys for the front and back door," he added as I turned to look at him. "The locksmith gave me two sets. You should keep them both until your mom is out of the hospital. He also changed my locks, and I have an extra set that your mother can have as well."
"Okay."
He walked into the room, his gaze narrowing as he gave me a concerned look. "What's going on? You look shocked."
"I found this." I handed him the envelope, watching his face closely as he read the address. A look of puzzlement ran across his face.
"What is this?" he asked.
"I don't know. But there's five hundred dollars in cash inside." I paused as he opened the envelope to look at the money. "Is Louise Beckham related to you?"
"She's my mother," he said, his frown deepening as he pulled out the cash. He stared at it for a long minute. Then his gaze moved back to the envelope. "I've seen this before when I used to get the mail for my mom. She told me she was getting some financial support from a nonprofit group that helped single mothers."
"The Children's Support Network?"
"I guess that was it. But the address is here. It's this house." He shook his head in confusion. "I don't understand why your mother was sending my mother money."
"Neither one ever told you?" I asked.
"No, never," he said vehemently.
"There are several envelopes in the folder, all pre-addressed to your mom. But you haven't been a child in a long time. What are you—thirty?"
"Thirty-one," he said, his jaw turning to stone. "This makes no sense."
"Welcome to my world, where nothing makes sense."
