Page 36 of Behind the Shadows
I wasn’t sure how long I sat on the floor curled up, shaking with tears streaming down my face. My demons had finally caught up to me, and I was losing my fucking mind. I was a broken mess just pretending to lead a good life. All I wanted was to be happy … safe, but that desire had overruled my common sense. Leaving the past behind was a joke. A cruel, twisted fucking joke.
My phone chimed, and I scanned the room until I located it on my nightstand. I didn’t even remember leaving it there, but I was searching for intruders and cameras when I got home. I wasn’t paying attention to anything else.
I tapped the screen and frowned at the message.
Monster:
I have to cancel.
“Great,” I muttered to myself. No explanation, nothing about when he could help me. Was he always this unreliable?
I pressed my palm to my forehead, struggling to steady my breath. On the brink of losing my grip on reality, there were only two people I could turn to for help—Dad and Mom. But with Cooper and Draco lurking, the fear of being tailed kept merooted in place. Yet, if my parents were in danger, they had to be warned. Dad could protect them, and I desperately needed his help now. Torn between staying put and risking everything to reach them, I felt trapped by my indecision.
That was what phones are for. Realizing I hadn’t checked my cell for any signs it was bugged, I hurried to my laptop and Googled what to look for. There weren’t any indicators that I’d noticed. The battery wasn’t draining faster. I wasn’t hearing clicking noises or static while on calls, and the websites didn’t look any different.
Satisfied my phone was safe, I sank onto the floor and leaned against my bed before I tapped the FaceTime button. Seconds later, Dad’s smile lit up my screen. The soft hue of the light blue walls was a clear sign that he was in his office. When I was younger, we would spend time there, and he would let me perch on the corner of his expansive mahogany desk. The rich wood had a deep, glossy finish, and the room often smelled faintly of books and polished leather, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere.
“There she is.”
“Hey, how are you and Mom doing?” I chewed on my thumbnail instead of fidgeting. I had too much pent-up fear and adrenaline to sit still for long. Especially with the upcoming conversation.
“Your mom is at book club, and I was looking through some old recipes.”
“Anything good?” My mouth watered with the idea of his homemade pasta.
“Maybe some pastries? What do you think?” He looked at me over the top of his reading glasses.
“Only if I get some.” I smiled at him.
His expression turned serious while he removed his glasses and set them on his desk. “Your eyes and nose are red. Have you been crying?”
I gave him a half shrug. “It was Ally’s anniversary Thursday. I was so busy I almost missed it.”
“I’m sorry, honey. Do you need to talk about it?”
I leaned my head back on the mattress, pausing as uncertainty washed over me before I focused on him again. “Yeah, there are some things I need to tell you. I’m torn about whether to ask you to keep them from Mom. Please, use your discretion. I trust you’ll take care of her like you always do, but the weight of this is heavy.” I tucked my hair behind my ear, feeling the conflict tug at my heart.
“I will. I promise. Some things your mom doesn’t need to know. It doesn’t serve anyone for her to work herself into a frantic, emotional mess.”
I couldn’t help but grin. Even when she had every justification to fall apart, she always managed to pile on extra layers of drama, turning every situation into a theatrical performance.
Clearing my throat, I started, “I love you, Dad. You’ve been a rock for me ever since I stumbled through the parking lot to you and Mom. I love Mom too. She took care of me, loved me even when it was difficult to put up with me. Over the years, I’ve considered telling you both the truth, but I was scared that since I was only thirteen you would try to find my real parents, and that couldn’t happen.”
Dad’s expression filled with compassion. “You didn’t have to say anything, Holland. When we found you and asked if we could call your parents, you were so terrified you puked … all over your mother’s shoes.” His soft chuckle filled my speaker, comforting me.
“You never told me that. So many details are hazy, but others are crystal clear. I’m not even sure how I ended up at the mall. I was exhausted and most likely dehydrated, delusional at times. I just kept going until I found someone I hoped I could trust.”
“The screaming nightmares were another sign that even though we were breaking the law, you were safer with us until you were ready to make a decision about your parents. We had to trust the signs and what you were able to tell us. Over time, you became like a daughter to us, and we love you as if you are our own. There wasn’t a difference in our minds. I hope you know that, Holland.”
Tears blurred my vision. “I do, Dad.” I brought my knees up and propped the phone against my legs. “My real name is Samantha. Somehow, I had enough clarity to give you a different name, and that’s how I became Holland.”
He nodded. “We know. You talked in your sleep. We loved the name you chose for yourself, though, so we never brought it up.”
My brows shot to my forehead with his revelation. “You never said a word to me.”
“Your mom and I talked about it, and we were concerned if you realized that you were sharing information with us when you were sleeping … well, that you would run. We didn’t want to take a chance. Plus, I won’t lie, it helped us understand the gravity of the situation better.”
I bit down hard on my lower lip, trying to grasp the magnitude of his words. They had prioritized me, shielded me from harm. My heart pounded violently in my chest, a relentless drumbeat echoing the intensity of my emotions—gratitude, regret, grief, and a flicker of hope.
