Page 186 of Sins of the Hidden

I was contaminating everyone I loved, a quiet decay they'd carried for years because of me.

V moved from his position against the wall, taking a single step forward, his muscles tightening at my words. His eyes narrowed slightly. Something in his silent reaction gave me courage to continue, to face my father's response.

I finally looked up at him through tears that distorted his face. I needed to see the confirmation in his eyes, the resentment he must have buried for twenty years. How could he not hate me, even a little? I was the living reminder of his worst nightmare.

Instead, what I saw made me forget how to breathe.

Dad's hands shook intensely as he reached for mine, tears streaming unchecked down his face. At that moment, he wasn't the father who had raised me, he was the terrified seventeen-year-old boy holding a newborn, running for his life.

"Listen to me, Oakley." His voice broke open, stripped of everything but devastating truth. "You are the best thing thathas ever happened to me." He gripped my hands with such desperation I thought my bones might break. "You weren't some burden I carried, you're the reason I'm still alive."

A sob tore from his chest, the sound so primal it sent shivers down my spine. "Without you, I would never have escaped. I would have died in that place, Oakley. Do you understand? I would have died." His voice dropped to a whisper. "You didn't ruin my life. You gave me one."

His trembling hand reached up to wipe the tears from my face, lingering against my cheek as if afraid I might vanish if he let go. "Oakley," he said softly, his voice breaking, "no matter where you came from, every nightmare, every tragedy—we'd choose it all again just to have you."

The tears I'd been holding back finally spilled over. "But she died because?—"

"Valerie died because of that cult," he said firmly. "Not because of you."

"D-Does it hurt to look at me?"

"Never." He was sharp with his reply. "I never regretted you. Not once." His voice broke. "Every single day of my life has been worth it because you were in it."

Fresh hot tears fell at hearing these things from my father. The love in his eyes—pure and unconditional—shattered something inside me that had been broken for too long. Looking over to Mom, she was smiling, still with tears in her eyes, her hand reaching for mine across the space between us.

"How did you two meet?" I was hoping this story wasn't fueled with nightmares like everything else.

"I was a safe house for people escaping the cult," Mom explained. "No one was willing to take in a man with a baby besides me." Her eyes looked to Dad, the love she felt for him radiating from her.

"For the first month I wouldn't let Claudia hold you." He shook his head. "I slept sitting against the wall with you in my arms and only got two hours of sleep a night. I was afraid they'd come back for you."

"When did you start letting her help?" I asked quietly.

"You wouldn't stop crying one night. Nothing I did helped. I was exhausted, terrified I couldn't give you what you needed. Claudia..." He looked at her with a gratitude so raw it made my heart ache. "She just took you from my arms. You stopped crying almost immediately."

I glanced between them, suddenly curious about something I'd never thought to ask. "When did you two fall in love?"

Mom's fingers intertwined with Dad's, a small smile softening her features. "It wasn't one moment. There were thousands of them."

Dad's eyes never left Mom's face as he spoke. "Claudia helped me become a legal citizen, get my GED. She believed in me when I had nothing to offer but a bad attitude and a baby I barely knew how to take care of."

"We raised you together," Mom added, her voice gentle with memory. "I helped your father study for his law school entrance exams, quizzed him on cases late at night after you were asleep."

Dad continued, "Brewing coffee at three in the morning while I prepared for finals." His thumb traced circles on the back of Mom's hand. "She never once made me feel like we were a burden."

"When he graduated from law school," Mom said, looking at me now, "we realized we didn't want to say goodbye. We couldn't imagine our lives any other way than the three of us."

"So we got married," Dad finished simply, looking at mom with utter love and devotion. "And we haven’t looked back.”

I looked at Mom, really looked at her—the woman who had chosen us, who had opened her heart and her home to atraumatized teenage boy and his infant daughter. Who had loved us both unconditionally from the start.

I stood, pausing in front of her. What right did I have to her comfort, to the safety of her arms, after every wall I'd built to keep her out? As if reading my thoughts, Mom stood. Her eyes shimmered with tears as she reached for me.

"Oakley," she whispered, voice thick with emotion. "From the moment I held you in my arms, you were my daughter.” Her hands trembled slightly as they found mine. "I never needed to give birth to you to love you with every piece of my heart."

Her words crashed through the last of my defenses. Taking my hands in hers, she held them tight as the truth welled up inside me.

"You're my Mom." The words came out clear and certain. "You raised me, you took care of me. You loved me when you didn't have to." She'd been there for me my whole life, she'd never made me feel anything but loved. She was at every school recital, every doctor's appointment, everything. She stepped up when she didn't have to. She raised me, that made her my mom whether she’d birthed me or not.

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