“Sienna,” she said with an uneasy smile. “You look beautiful.”

I looked different too. She’d sent off a sixteen-year-old girl. I was a woman now. A woman with a child.

“Where are Micah and Dewayne?” I asked.

She looked hurt, but she covered it up quickly. I would not feel guilty for that. She had abandoned me. I could never hurt her as badly as she had hurt me. Nothing compared.

“I don’t know. I knocked and no one answered, so I walked around back, then heard a car drive up. I didn’t recognize the fancy car, but it seems you’re doing well now, from the looks of it.”

That meant Dewayne and Micah were at the Falcos’, and the moment Dewayne looked outside and saw my father’s car in the drive, he’d be over here fast. I wanted him here. I just wanted Micah to stay there. She’d given us this house and given Micah that room, but seeing her now and remembering, I wasn’t ready to forgive her.

“You never called. I had hoped you would call,” she said.

“I know what that feels like. I had hoped you would call once too. Or at least give a shit.”

She flinched. Again, I would not feel guilty. She did this to us. To me.

“The Falcos know about Micah now, I take it? Since Dewayne is with him.”

“Yeah. They missed five years of his life because letters I sent never made it to them. Aunt Cathy says I need to talk to you about that.”

Mother looked as if that didn’t surprise her. She must have gotten a call from her sister about it.

The door behind her opened, and Dewayne filled the space. A fierce, protective glare was on his face, and his body was tensed and ready to defend me. He stepped around my mother and stood in front of me just slightly. “You okay?” he asked, his gaze softening for me.

I nodded, then reached for his hand. His large one engulfed mine.

“I should have figured this would happen. I knew when you came to see her the day before we took her to Texas that it was more than just checking on her.” Mother’s voice wasn’t condemning or judgmental. More like relieved.

“You told me she was already gone,” Dewayne said, turning to look back at my mother.

Mother at least looked apologetic. “I had a pregnant sixteen-year-old daughter, and the father of her child was dead. I didn’t know what to do. I was trying to save her future. She was too young to make the right decisions.”

The right decisions? Hauling me off and trying to force me to give up my baby was not the right decision.

“Keeping Micah was the best decision of my life,” I yelled, unable to control the anger burning inside me at the idea of her not wanting my son.

She nodded. “Yes, it was. You knew better than we did. You knew you could be a good mother. A better mother than I was to you. You showed us all that you would fight to give him a life. And you’ve done a wonderful job. I’m proud of you. I didn’t make you the woman you are, but I’m still proud of you.”

My eyes stung with unshed tears, and I gulped down air to keep from sobbing. “You have no idea what it was like. Loving him all on my own. Trying to be enough for him. Trying to be mother and father to him. Telling him how special he was and that he was my world while he asked questions about not having the family other kids had. You don’t know! You don’t know what it was like! He needed you. I needed you.” The sobs stopped me from saying any more. Then Dewayne’s arms were around me, holding me.

I had imagined this moment a million times since the day she drove out of my life. Never had it been like this. Never had I broken down like this. I was always resolute and strong. I was always proud of myself and would show her I hadn’t needed them. I hadn’t needed her. But never did I break down and cry.

The lost girl who didn’t know how she was going to do it alone was back. She hadn’t been gone. Not really. All along she’d been there underneath the surface. That girl was a fighter, but she was also hiding so much pain. So much betrayal.

“Your father . . . he was devastated. We had tried so hard to protect you. To keep you safe and away from bad decisions. We trusted Dustin. We trusted you. But then Dustin was gone, and you were pregnant. We couldn’t see another way.”

I wiped at my eyes, and Dewayne soothed me with slow strokes down my head and back. I had to pull it together. I had to get through this. I was strong. I had grown up fast, and for a moment I needed to be that girl again. I needed to tell her what she had done to me. And tell her what I had done for myself.

I moved, and Dewayne eased his hold on me but kept his hand on my back, letting me know he was there. He wasn’t leaving me, and I wasn’t alone. He would have been there back then, too, if he’d only been given the chance to know. To be there. He would have been. How different Micah’s life would have been.

My mother and father had taken so much from him. I didn’t know if I was capable of forgiving that. Hurting me was one thing, but hurting Micah was another.

“Micah deserved to know the Falcos. He was robbed of that. They were robbed of that for five years. What did you do with the letters, Mother? Where did they go if they didn’t go to the Falcos? I wrote at least a hundred. I sent photos. For years I tried to reach them. And all along my letters never got there.”

Mother sighed wearily and crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive posture. Then she looked up at Dewayne. “I didn’t want them to use you and your baby. They had lost Dustin, and then they’d suffered the blow of that Bart girl aborting Dustin’s baby. I didn’t want the world to know you were pregnant with his son too. If they knew, then everyone else would know. You’d not only be a teen mom, but you’d be one of Dustin Falco’s many. I couldn’t let that happen to you. You deserved more.”