Seventeen, fourteen, and six years old.

Unfuckingbelievable.

I always said I had the worst luck of anyone, and with all the information Ian told me tonight, it tells me just how badly I've got it.

None of what Ian told me tonight made any sense to me, and I've been trying to process it all ever since he dropped me off.

I can't seem to grasp that my father always claimed he loved my mother dearly. And ever since I was a child, he always said how he wouldn't know what to do without her. So, if my father loved my mother as much as he so claimed, then why did he go out sleeping with other women? If he knew his actions were causing her to be depressed, why didn't he stop and live by the vows he promised to abide by when they said their I-do's? The promise to be faithful?

I don't understand it.

I don't understand any of it.

Twenty-four years, I wished to have siblings and was jealous of anyone who had them. But now, after hearing the unexpected and shocking news that I have three siblings, I'm deeply regretting that wish.

I can't help thinking about what went through my mother's mind after finding out my father fathered three other children after me. It obviously devastated her; otherwise, she'd most likely still be here. But seeing a young girl, a child claiming to be my father's needing to talk to him, had to have shattered her heart into a million pieces. She longed to have more children, and I always assumed my mother's depression was caused because of my father not being able to give her any more youngsters.

Boy, was I ever wrong...

Now it makes me wonder why my mother lied to me? All she had to say was that it was her who couldn't give my father more children.

Why blame him?

I have so many questions, yet I'm afraid to ask and hear the answers.

I know I shouldn't be upset with Ian. But I am. All-day long, he avoided questions I had. Then, instead of answering them, he beat around the bush by telling me how much he loved me, how much my father loved me. How much he wanted to see me happy. And how he had been out making sure he didn't have another hurt and pissed-off woman in his life.

Well, Ian? What you didn't want happening, did.

Because rightfully so, I'm one furious, pissed-off, and extremely hurt woman.

Instead of Ian being honest with me about what he was doing and who he was with, he chose to make sure I was in a good mood before dropping all those bombs onto me.

Who does that?

However, as observant as I am, I did notice something was off with Ian and sensed he was struggling with whatever he had on his mind. But all the same, it still hurts and upsets me with the way and how he chose to inform me about my parents.

My mind felt like Ian, and I was still on the go-kart tracks where all it wanted to do was race. And the longer I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about my mother, my father, the siblings I never knew I had, and how my father helped contribute to my mother's death, the more my mind refused to allow the checkered flag to come out—ending the race.

My racing mind, my devastated heart, and the uncontrollable tears that insisted on drenching my face kept me awake. And my body telling me it had zero intentions of falling asleep any time soon.

With a heavy, saddened sigh, I reached over to the lamp, turned it on, then slid myself off the bed and walked over to my easel.

If I can't sleep, I might as well get through the rest of the night by doing something I know that'll help take my mind off my rotten, shitty life.

I picked up the easel and swung it around to the edge of the bed. Next, I grabbed a masonite board, sanded it down, then placed it onto the easel.

As I sat, preparing the color of my paints, my mother's beautiful face came strolling into my line of vision, causing my eyes to flood, blinding me for a few minutes.

I wiped away the tears and took a couple of long, slow deep breaths to stop the waterworks that'll soon be reddening and puffing my eyes. Then, finally, the tears stopped flowing. I calmed down, and I got myself to relax—feeling the most relaxed since learning the news about my parents.

Then, without any hesitation, I got to work—painting a cherished memory I'll never forget—my mother.

I'm not going to lie; painting one of my favorite memories of my mother wasn't very easy, as my mind demanded to remind me of what my father had done. And it was angering me, as he's the last person I want to think about.

The only one who needs me to pay heed to at this very moment is my mother.

She deserves it.

I forced myself not to think about my mother's sperm donor and carried on with my painting. I dabbed the tip of the paintbrush into the paint, wiped the excess paint onto the paint board, then calmly continued stroking the paintbrush onto the masonite board.

Blend after blend. Dab after dab—stroke after stroke. The clearer my mind was becoming. And the painting of my beautiful mother was coming together just the way I remembered last seeing her happy—our last fishing trip together as a family.

We were sitting in a boat with Minnesota's northern pine, birch, and sugar maple trees swaying in the background. The sun was shining down on her, and it was enhancing her intense dark-brown eyes and her glowing sun-kissed-colored skin. Her long, deep chestnut-brown-colored hair breezed in the air with a fishing rod resting across her lap. She was beaming and was happy as can be as she proudly held a forty-inch northern for the camera, excitedly showcasing her catch of the day.

That's one thing I miss about my mother—her captivating smile.

I put the finishing touches on my mother's face, then stared at my work, making sure it was picture perfect, and seeing it was to my liking, I set the painting to the side to dry.

I was more than awake, and since my eyes weren't ready to rest, I started on another project, and I was painting portrait after portrait until the sun began to rise.

It was now six in the morning; I was still wide awake and shedding tears. And because I was scheduled to work in two hours and in no mood to face anyone, I picked up my phone and texted Hannah.

Me: I'm sorry this is last minute. But I wanted to let you know that I won't be working today.

I set my phone down but quickly picked it up after changing my mind and sent her another message.

Me: Actually. I plan on not working for a few days. Sorry...

I didn't want to tell her about what happened over a text and figured I'd inform her later about why I won't be working. But knowing Ian, I'm sure he already filled her in on how the ending of our night went, as it didn't end pretty.

Howbeit, Ian acted like he expected the night to conclude the way it did, and he took my choice of words with a grain of salt, saying he'd give me a few days before checking to see how I was doing or if I needed anything.

Hannah: There's no apology needed, as I already figured you wouldn't be making it in today. Please take all the time off you need. Just remember that if you need anything, I'm always here.

Just as I figured, Ian updated Hannah.

Me: Thanks.

Me: Oh, I forgot to ask if the pole shed's unlocked. I need my car.

I watched the three dots on my screen bounce around, stop, then after about a minute, they began bouncing again.

Hannah: It's locked, and I'm over at my boyfriend's place. Did you need it right now? And can I ask where you plan on going?

I leaned my head back, sighing. Yes, I want my car right now. That way, I can get out of here and go wherever my car decides to go. Which would be far, far away from here...

Me: I would've liked to have it right now so I can get the hell out of paradise and to where I belong—hell.

Hannah called instead of responding by a message, and because I didn't feel like talking, fearing I'd break down on her, I let it ring.

After rejecting her fourth phone call, she gave up. But then I got a message.

Hannah: Please answer. I need to hear that you're okay.

Of course, I'm not okay.

Me: No.

Me: Let me know when you get back to the resort.

I think the reason I've allowed myself to get as close to Hannah as I have isn't because of Ian, but because she reminds me a lot like Skye. Hannah's down-to-earth, giving, humble and kind, caring, funny, and genuine. And since she's become such a great friend, where I know I can tell her anything and everything, I worried about telling her more than I wanted and tossed my phone on the bed, ignoring the rest of her messages.

The next thing I knew, I hit the wall, and I was out like a light.

***

I'm not sure how long I was asleep, but when I opened my eyes and turned my head towards the window, I noticed no sunlight shining through the curtains as the sun usually does during the afternoon hours.

Then I noticed my entire trailer was dark.

I rubbed my eyes, then my face, and then dug my elbows into the mattress and pushed myself up. While getting my eyes to focus, I heard the loons singing, the crickets chirping, the frogs' mating calls, amongst other bugs communicating, coming through the windows. And hearing those sounds made me realize I slept all day.

Shit...

A cool breeze entered the room, touching the warmth of my cheeks, awakening me further as the unmistakable aromas of summer filled my senses. Then a massive gust of wind burst through the windows, alerting me rain or a storm was ready to hit. As the air traveled and swirled throughout the room, a familiar, refreshing, soft, and sweet aroma scent tantalized my sense of smell—fresh-cut flowers.

I turned on the light, then headed down to the kitchen, flipping on the light switch as I walked by. Then, I stopped when I saw bouquets sitting on the counter, kitchen table, and coffee table, angrily groaning. Damn it, Ian. I told you to leave me be.

Then I noticed a piece of paper with writing on it lying on the table. Feeling curious to see what Ian had to say, I walked over to the table, picked up the note, then sat on the chair after seeing it wasn't Ian who brought my flowers.

It was Hannah.

Tawny,

I know you're upset, and you have every right to be. Just please don't push me away. No matter the situation, I'll always be there for you. Even if or when my brother decides he misses being a shitbag and puts that damn stick back in his ass, I'll be there for you—right by your side. But I have a feeling that'll never happen because I see how much you've changed, Ian.

The love I see in Ian's eyes whenever he talks about you is something I have never seen his eyes do with any of the other women he had in his life. Not even with that bitch he once called his fiancée, Alexandra.

Sorry, I didn't mean to bring her up...

Anyway, I'm sorry you found out about your mother from Ian and not your father. That was something he couldn't keep a secret and felt you needed to know the truth. And I can honestly tell you; it was the hardest thing Ian's ever had to do.

You're a good person, Tawny. So do me a huge favor and quit giving people straws; it'll stop them from sucking the life out of you.

Your friend,
Hannah

P.S.) I parked your car outside your trailer and hung the keys up by the door.

Leave it to Hannah to be serious and funny at the same time.

I set the note down, looked out the window, and watched the rain falling from the sky, debating about leaving. As much as I'd like to hop in the car and drive wherever the open road takes me, there are still unanswered questions I need to know.

So, I guess that means I know where I need to go.

It didn't take long for me to pack, and once the rain stopped, I grabbed the keys hanging by the door, then hurriedly rushed out the door and to my car.

Only, it wasn't my car.

I looked around, feeling bewildered when I saw no other vehicles around. I raised my hand toward the outdoor light, looked at the keys, and got even more confused after realizing they weren't mine.

What the hell did you do, Hannah?

I hit the unlock button on the key fob, then sighed when I heard the locks of the doors open. Apparently, she didn't want me driving my piece of shit car. But the question is, who's Mercedes is this? I've never seen anyone here drive anything like this. Hannah drives a Tahoe, Ian only has sports cars, and their mother drives a BMW.

I didn't feel right taking a vehicle I didn't know and stared at the SUV, wondering what to do. Then something Hannah said in her letter came to mind. Your car is parked outside your trailer.

Ugh.

This better be another one of Hannah's vehicles and not mine.

It started sprinkling, so to not get my things wet, I quickly loaded the back of the SUV then got into the driver's seat. The next thing I saw was a note taped to the dash above the steering wheel.

This time, the letter was from Ian.

My beautiful sugar lips,

I hope you don't mind, but I couldn't help but cringe when I saw Hannah get your car out of the pole shed. There's no way I can allow you to drive a hunk of junk like that anymore. So I got rid of it and bought you this. Please don't be upset and accept this gift from me, as it's something you're owed and need.

I love you.

Love,
Ian

***

"Can I help you?" the older woman behind the counter asked.

"Ah, yes," I quietly responded, then nervously said, "I'm here to see Roman Kincaid."

"And you are?"

"Tawny Kincaid. His daughter," I exhaled.

Her eyes lowered to the computer, but then they quickly darted upward to mine, sounding surprised and almost as if I weren't supposed to be here. "Tawny?"

"Yes."

"Just a second," she said, picking up her phone and hitting one of the buttons on the telephone base. She turned her head as she quietly spoke to the person on the other end. She turned back around, hung up the phone, then smiled. "Roman's doctor will be right out to speak with you."

Suddenly, a terrible feeling roamed through me.

The longer I stood waiting for the doctor, my nerves revved into higher gear, with my mind thinking bad thoughts about what my dad may have attempted to do or did. Ian mentioned my father wanted to be here for me but also said he wished to be where my mother is. I also thought he may have told the doctor he didn't want to see me after opening to Ian. Which, if that's the case, too fucking bad. Because he owes me an explanation.

All I want is the truth, and to hear what he told Ian, said to me.

A man in a white coat walked over to me, extending his hand. "Tawny Kincaid?"

I took his offer on a handshake, answering, "Yes. I'm Tawny."

A warm smile formed on his face. "It's nice to meet you finally; I'm doctor Creighton, Roman's clinician." He let go of my hand, then pointed down the hallway. "Before we head to Roman's room, I'd like to talk with you privately."

My heart abruptly stopped.

And it was because of the doctor saying, Roman's room and not to see your father. So, as doctor Creighton held open the door to his office, wanting me to enter, I refused to take another step. And it was because there was something I needed to know. "Is my father still here?"

"Yes, he's here."

My brows drew together. "Is he alive?"

He nodded. "Yes, he's alive and well."

As mad and hurt as I am with my father and the extreme hatred I've been feeling towards him, I didn't know why I felt relieved, but I was. Hearing he was still alive, I walked in, over to the empty chair waiting for me, and sat. "By you saying he's doing well, does that mean he has no more urges to use any more?"

Doctor Creighton walked around his desk, sat, then folded his hands as he looked at me. "Your father hasn't used since he was admitted here, and he has no intentions of using ever again. He knows the risks if he goes back to using. He's also mentioned that he needs to get better on numerous occasions. For you."

Oh, how nice of him... for me... I mocked, using my inner voice.

I sat tall, crossed one leg over the other, folded my hands together, then rested them on my knee. "Ian mentioned you told him you were ready to release him?"

"Was," he said firmly. "I was ready to release him. That was, until the other day."

"Right. His famous escape."

The doctor looked down at the folder he was holding when he first approached me, then looked up. "I no longer feel he's ready to go home, not quite yet. However, after Ian found your father and brought him back, I did another evaluation and concluded his withdrawals are still there."

"They weren't before?"

"If they were, he hid them well."

Knowing this first hand, I rolled my eyes. "That's one thing he's good at, is hiding things well..."

The doctor's eyes grew serious; he rubbed his chin, then picked up the folder, standing it on the desk. "Listen, Tawny. I know you're here to see your father, but before I allow you to do that, I'd like to go over some things with you about Roman. Some issues he's been displaying, and some things that have been said."

It's not like I'm in a hurry to go anywhere else. And I'm not in a hurry to visit with my dad, either. But I am curious to hear what the doctor has to say. "Okay."

"Roman's irritability, mood swings, and the intense fear of being around a large group of people have subsided immensely. Those issues I'm no longer worried about. I am concerned about his thinking process and sudden confusion, along with the intense sadness he's been displaying since Ian returned him." He paused, then a look of confusion crossed his face. "He kept saying he needed to go where Clara was during the evaluation. Can I ask who Clara is?"

I swallowed hard, then breathed, "Clara is my mother."

Doctor Creighton opened the folder, grabbed a pen, then made a note, saying, "I assumed that was his wife, but I wanted to ask since there were some other names he mentioned to me on other occasions."

I wonder who those other names are? His mistress or mistresses? His other children? Afraid to hear who they were, I didn't ask. Instead, I asked, "Is this why you've decided to keep him longer?"

"One reason, yes. Another reason is that Roman mentioned diazepam. He said he needs his prescription since he hasn't been able to sleep."

I closed my eyes. "He's never been prescribed valium before. That was my mother's prescription."

His brows furrowed as he flipped through the paperwork inside the folder. "I see nothing written in here about that." He looked up. "Do you know if he's ever taken them?"

Shit.

I did give him one once. That way, I could go out with Skye without him bothering me all night.

"I only know of one time," I embarrassingly admitted, not wanting to lie. "And that would be my fault," I admitted again, before explaining my reasoning. "Please don't think bad of me; it wasn't something I wanted to do due to his history; I was just extremely desperate that night."

"It's not something I would have done," he scolded, "but you're young, and I completely understand the situations he's put you through... With that said, I'd like to keep him here a little bit longer. Since he's been showing signs of depression and fearing losing everyone in his life, I felt the need to inform you that I brought in a therapist to work with him. Once I know, he's back to reality and where he should be, with no suicidal thoughts and zero urges of any kind. Then, I will give you and Ian a call. Anyway, I know you're anxious to see your father; I just needed a couple of clarifications and to let you know where your father stands before bringing you to see him."

I hope you enjoyed the chapter!!🤞🤞