Steve had an affair with my mom.
I want to throw up just thinking about it, and I almost wish none of us had read the letter. But a part of me is glad we did. For so long, I blamed myself for Mom’s death, wondering if my fighting and my recklessness was what drove her to suicide. East thought it was his pill addiction that sent her over the edge.
At least now we know the truth. Mom killed herself because of guilt over her affair with Dad’s best friend. And she thought Dad was cheating on her, too. Steve had led her to believe that.
Fucking Steve. I hope I never again have to lay eyes on that man in my life.
“Ella!”
The bastard’s ears must’ve been burning because he suddenly appears on the courthouse steps.
“Oh shit,” East mutters.
The twins echo his curse with more colorful ones of their own. I entertain the idea of throwing Ella over my shoulder, diving into the car, and speeding away. But I hesitate too long because Steve’s already making his way across the parking lot.
Dad takes a menacing step forward, placing himself between Ella and Steve. “You should go,” he commands.
“No. I want to talk to my daughter.” Steve leans around Dad, pleading with Ella. “Ella, listen to me. I was drugged up the other night. I think Dinah must’ve put something in my drink. You know I’d never hurt you. And I didn’t hurt Brooke, either. You misunderstood everything I said that night.”
Pain flickers across her face. “Really? That’s the story we’re going with?”
“You have to trust me.”
“Trust you? Are you kidding me? You killed Brooke and tried to pin it on Reed! I don’t know who you are, and I don’t want to know.”
She wrenches the car door open and climbs inside. The slamming door puts all of us in motion. The twins and Easton get into Sawyer’s Rover, while I join Ella in Dad’s car.
Dad remains with Steve, but their angry voices are muffled behind the closed windows of the Mercedes. I don’t even give a shit what they’re saying. I trust Dad to tell Steve to go to hell, where he deserves to burn for eternity.
Ella peers at me with sad eyes as I gently put an arm around her. “You guys were rough on me when I first arrived,” she starts.
I wince at this. “I know.”
“But you all came around, and I…I had a family for the first time.” Tears drip down her face. Her hands are clenched in her lap, white around the knuckles.
I cover them with my palm and feel the warm tears fall on the back of my hand.
“When Steve arrived, I gave him a hard time, but secretly I thought it was kind of cool that he was so excited to be a dad. His rules were ridiculous, but the girls at school said it was normal, and sometimes it made me feel like he really cared.”
I swallow around the knot in my throat. Her words are so full of pain, and I don’t know how to take it away.
“I thought,” she continues between gulps of air, “sometimes I thought that my mom was wrong to haul me around the country, running from one bad relationship to another. I thought maybe it would’ve been better if I’d grown up with Steve. An O’Halloran, not a Harper.”
Oh hell. I haul her into my lap, placing her wet face in my neck.
“I know, baby. I love my mom, but I think bad thoughts about her, too, sometimes. I get that she couldn’t live with herself, but she should’ve tried. Because we needed her.” I stroke Ella’s hair and press a kiss on her temple. “I don’t think being angry or resentful that our mothers let us down is disloyal.”
Her small body heaves. “I wanted him to love me.”
“Oh, baby, something’s wrong with Steve. He’s not capable of loving anyone but himself. That’s his flaw, not yours.”
“I know. It just hurts.”
The driver’s door opens, and Dad climbs in. “Everything okay back there?” he asks quietly.
His eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. I remain silent, because I know it’s a question for Ella.
She shudders and sighs and then lifts her head. “Yeah, I’m a mess, but I’m going to be okay.”
She slides off my lap but keeps her head on my shoulder. Dad backs out of the parking lot and starts the drive home.
“I told Val once that you and I are mirrors,” Ella whispers to me. “That we fit in some weird way.”
I know exactly what she means. The complicated feelings we have for our mothers, for their weakness and frailty, for their hidden strengths and the love they showed us, for the selfishness that affected us…all these things are part of what twisted us up inside, but somehow those tangled strands fused until we were whole again.
Ella makes me whole. I make her whole.