I nod slowly. "I know this is a lot to unpack. I didn't even know about you until just now. I haven't seen my dad since I was seven years old, and I'm twenty-two now. Well, almost. He left me and my mom, and I guess he left to have a new family."

"Lucky you," she says, sounding bitter.

"Sorry. What?"

“I said, ‘Lucky you.’ He left. I wish he would leave us." She bites down on her lower lip. "Sorry, I shouldn't say that. Sometimes I just wish he were dead. Sometimes I—" She starts crying again. "I'm sorry. You must think I'm horrible."

"Not at all. I'm sorry that he's not the man I remember. I'm Sabrina."

"I know. I remember your name," she says, smiling.

"I was hoping that would make you tell me yours," I say with a smile.

"Oh, I guess you do want to know that. I'm Sadie," she says.

"Sadie?" My jaw drops. "No way."

"Yeah. Why?"

"I had a pig a long time ago, and I called her Sadie."

"So I'm named after your pet pig?"

"She wasn't a real pig," I say, shaking my head. “She was a stuffed toy, but it took me a long time to come up with that name,” I say. "Dad must really love you if he gave you that name."

"And I guess he really loved you if he chose a name that would mean so much to him," she says. "You want to have a seat?" She pats her passenger side door.

"Yeah, I do. Will you give me a moment? My friend in the other car wants to make sure I'm okay, and I don't want him to come and interrupt us."

"That's your friend who thinks you're a great actress?”

I nod and smile.

"The one you're in love with?"

"I didn't say that.” I frown. “I mean I don’t really know if I love him love him, you know?”

"I can tell," she says. “You love him. I can read people really well. That's how I know our dad's a piece of shit." She laughs. "But that's also how I know you're not."

"It's nice to meet you, Sadie," I say softly.

"It's nice to meet you, too, Sabrina. Even under these horrible circumstances."

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Wes

I watch Sabrina packing her stuff, and I can see Bruno looking nervous as she throws her clothes into a bag.

"Hey. Are you okay?" I ask her softly, and she nods.

"I'm okay."

She turns around to face me, walks over to me, and puts her hands on my shoulders. "I was really mad the other day when you found my dad, and I'm still not really happy about the circumstances, but I'm okay. I found a sister, and while I still don't know what happened or why my dad left, at least I'm on the way to sort of beginning to understand. And actually, I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?" I stare at her in surprise. "You're joking, right? You were literally pissed that I?—"

"I don't necessarily want to thank you for searching for him without telling me because I think that was a really big thing, and you should've spoken to me about it, but I get it's your way. That's how some men act, I suppose."