When Tomorrow Starts Without me Page 23

  "She was never married to Merle, and no, she never married anyone else, either. No kids. I think she was always afraid of ending up in another bad relationship. She loved working with kids and was more than happy to come home to her cats. You know what else?"

  "What?"

  "I always thought she felt like having another kid would be like hurting you. She felt awful for leaving you with that man—she cried and cried, hating herself. But Merle, he had something over her. I don't know what, but she really believed she had no other choice but to leave you with him."

  Kenna's face pales. "Do you have any idea what?"

  "Your mom could hold onto a secret like it was nobody's business. If she didn't want to tell something, she didn't. I've actually been going through her things to find out if she hid any journals or anything."

  Kenna drops her fork. "Did she?"

  "Not that I've found. All we've got is that cryptic note. What is all a lie? Her life? A secret? Something to do with you? There has to be an answer somewhere, but I can't find it. I'll just have to keep going through her things, but I have to go back to work soon. Then I won't have much time, except on weekends."

  "Will you tell me if you find anything?" Kenna pleads with her eyes.

  The pain in her expression is like a punch to my gut. I hate not being able to do anything to help. All I can do is sit here and hope her aunt can give her something, anything.

  Sutton and I exchange another glance as Kenna and her aunt exchange numbers.

  Even though Kendra can't offer any solid answers, at least Kenna knows she isn't the only one who questions her adoption. Plus, now she knows Caroline regretted leaving her with Merle. That has to offer some solace. I hope.

  Before long, a slideshow starts, showing pictures from Caroline's life—everything from baby pictures to pictures of her just weeks ago with the kids she worked with. There are so many photos of Caroline with children, but I can't tell if any of them are Kenna. Some look like they could be her, but I don't know what she looked like as a kid.

  Kenna just sits next to me, stiff as a board. She barely blinks, much less reacts to any of them.

  Once the slideshow ends, the pastor takes the microphone and opens it up for sharing.

  I glance at Kenna. I can't read her expression.

  Kendra puts her hand on top of Kenna's. "I have some stories I want to share. I'll be right back."

  Kenna turns to me once her aunt takes the stage. "Let's go."

  "Now?" I exclaim. "Don't you want to hear her stories?"

  She shakes her head. "I've heard more than enough, and besides, I don't want to have to deal with saying goodbye to her once she comes back. I need some air."

  Sutton rises. "Okay, let's leave, then."

  As we make our way to the door, I catch Kendra's gaze. She frowns, obviously disappointed in our timing to exit. I throw her an apologetic glance. Hopefully, she understands.

  Kenna

  The stars twinkle brighter from Rogan's backyard than they ever did at my house growing up.

  Rogan pulls me closer as we lie in silence, just watching nature's show. "Think we'll see another shooting star?"

  "I'm hoping for a spaceship." Then maybe the little green men can take me away from this planet of misery.

  "My money's on the shooting star."

  He wants me to talk about the funeral, but I can't. I'm still processing everything my aunt said—and with as much as she talked, it's going to take some time for that to happen.

  Instead, I change the subject. "Sing to me."

  Rogan gives me a double-take. "Without my guitar?"

  "I want to hear just your voice. Do you have anything new?"

  He looks deep in thought for a moment. "I do have one, but it's really rough. Seriously, it's not that good yet."

  "Let me hear it."

  Rogan puts his arms around me and clear his throat.

  * * *

  A squalid cell, your home, your hell

  I had to take you away

  You did your time, what was your crime

  I want to make them pay

  * * *

  But I'm not strong, not like you

  They crushed you, they shushed you

  And still you came through

  * * *

  Head held high, eyes bone dry

  How could they just not see?

  No more heartache, no more heartbreak

  Your strength will set you free

  * * *

  I'll fight for you, I'll fight so long

  Stay here with me. You are where you belong

  Don't give up now, You are so strong.

  * * *

  You came through. You are so strong.

  * * *

  My breath hitches.

  He kisses my cheek. "You're shivering. We should go inside."

  I'm pretty sure I'm shivering from the song and not because I'm cold, but I don't have it in me to protest.

  We gather the blankets and basket of snacks, then head inside.

  Sutton and her friend Kaia are watching a reality show and doubled over in laughter.

  "You've got to see this." Sutton waves us over, wiping tears from her eyes. "They're doing this obstacle course, and it's down to this redneck and a college football star."

  "It's so funny." Kaia holds her stomach. "They're trying to sabotage each other, and neither sees anything the other guy's doing. The stuff they come up with is crazy funny!"

  Rogan glances at me, arching an eyebrow.

  I shrug. At least it'll be a distraction from my racing thoughts.

  He sets the picnic basket on a side table, and we sit on the loveseat. I snuggle close, and he wraps his arm around me.

  The reality show is the perfect distraction. I get sucked into the battle of the country boy versus the city boy, and though I have a harder time laughing than everyone else, it really is hilarious.

  After the episode ends, Kaia grabs the remote and flips to the schedule. "Oh, good. They're running a marathon. I have to know how this ends."

  Sutton jumps up and heads for the door. "I'm going to see if Miss Alice is around. I so need popcorn."

  "I know how to make it if she's not around." Kaia scampers off after Sutton.

  Rogan kisses my cheek. "How're you doing? Want to keep watching or go to sleep?"

  "Is it bad that I want to see who wins?"

  He smiles. "Only if it's bad that I was hoping you'd say that."

  I lean my head against his, and turn to the TV. The show's announcer is rambling on about the stakes, then he says it's time for an interview with the show's producer.

  "Boring." I sigh. "Get on with the show."

  Rogan squeezes my shoulder. "This might be interesting."

  "Meh."

  The announcer talks up the producer, listing off a series of shows he's had a hand in since before I was alive.

  I'm about ready to join Sutton and Kaia in the kitchen when the camera switches over to the producer.

  His eyes are two different colors. Not only that, but his right eye is green and his left is blue.

  Exactly like my dream dad.

  Rogan laughs at something the man said, but I can't understand a word he says. Everything around me fades away. All I can do is stare at his eyes as the memories of my dreams flash in my mind.

  The producer looks exactly like an older version of the man in my dreams. Is he actually my dad? Is that possible? Or did I see him somewhere, then make up the dream to give me hope that Merle isn't my only living father?

  Just as quickly as the two-colored eye man appeared, he disappears. The reality show returns.

  I struggle to breathe.

  Someone is saying my name. It sounds like they're shouting it from miles away through a tunnel.

  Suddenly, Rogan's face is in front of me. He snaps his fingers between us.

  Everything behind him melts away. His mouth is moving, but I can't hear anything. Except a ringing. I'm pretty sure that's comin
g from my ears.

  I need to find out if that man is my father. Even if I end up looking like a fool, which I probably will. What are the chances that my real dad is a big-shot Hollywood producer?

  "Kenna, talk to me."

  The family room un-melts behind Rogan. I focus on his eyes and manage to breathe normally.

  "What's wrong? Kenna, please!"

  I swallow. "This is going to sound crazy."

  "What is it?" He takes my hands into his.

  "I'm serious. You're going to think I'm crazy."

  "I could never think that."

  "Let's test that theory. The producer, he looks just like every dream I've had of my birth dad. Just older."

  Rogan doesn't speak. He does think I've lost my mind.

  "I know it sounds nuts, and it probably is, but I… what if it's true?"

  He squeezes my hands. "You think Maximo Ensgate is your birth father?"

  "Trust me, I know how it sounds. He's probably not, but what if he is?"

  "I… I don't know."

  Sutton and Kaia return with four bowls of popcorn.

  I turn to Rogan. "Don't say anything."

  "I won't."

  Kaia gives us two bowls, and just as they sit, the show starts again. They roar with laughter at the antics on the screen, but neither Rogan nor I crack a smile.

  At the next break, the announcer says he's going to interview the producer again.

  My heart nearly gives out.

  But Maximo isn't alone. He's sitting with a beautiful brunette, who's practically sitting on his lap.

  I nearly pass out when I figure out who she is. The same woman who was on the TV when Merle freaked out and turned it off.

  The announcer introduces her as Maximo's wife of twenty-two years.

  Rogan turns to me wide-eyed. "You said your dad turned the TV off when she appeared on the screen?"

  I barely nod.

  He jumps up and pulls me to my feet, then turns to Sutton. "We have something we need to do."

  "Want me to tell you how it ends?"

  "Sure." Rogan drags me to his music room. "Do you really think those are your parents?"

  "I have no idea."

  "They've been married long enough to be." He studies my face. "You have her face shape and his nose and mouth. Kenna, you could be their daughter."

  The room spins around me. I back up to the wall and slide down to the floor.

  Rogan kneels. "What do you want to do?"

  I just shake my head. What am I supposed to say?

  He pulls out his phone. "We need to find out if they have any children."

  "Wait! No."

  "No? Why not?"

  My whole body goes cold. I hug myself. "They obviously don't want me."

  "They might want to meet you."

  I shake, slowly at first, then uncontrollably. "Then why did they sell me on the black market? To Merle, of all people? They don't care about me at all. They may as well have thrown me into a lions' den."

  "You don't know that. We don't know anything until we talk to them. What if they adopted you out to Caroline? She loved kids. It makes sense."

  "Then why would she have left me with Merle?"

  "You heard Kendra. He threatened Caroline. She felt like she had no other choice. We need to talk to Maximo and Elise."

  My stomach lurches at hearing their names.

  "Kenna?"

  I'm not going to be able to keep the food down. I jump up and run to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time. I hurl and hurl until I'm dry heaving.

  It isn't until I'm done that I realize Rogan's sitting there, rubbing my back.

  I bury my face in my arms. I can't believe he just witnessed that.

  He flushes the toilet and keeps rubbing my back.

  Kenna

  I wake in Rogan's arms. We're in his bed, I'm under the covers and he's lying on them, his arms around me.

  Seeing Maximo and Elise has opened the floodgates of my memories. My dreams have been filled with new memories. The only question is whether they're real or conjured up by a desperate, crazy person. And really, what are the chances that these so-called memories are real? That my parents are rich and famous celebrities?

  It's ridiculous, really. A fantasy. Something bored little girls think up when their lives need a little color.

  I can't stay here a moment longer. But I also don't want to wake Rogan. As much as I love being with him, I need to work through this on my own.

  Holding my breath, I carefully slide out from his arm. He lets out a little snore, then rolls over.

  I wait, expecting him to wake up. He doesn't. So, I tip-toe out of the room. It feels like a mile-long trek before I finally make it to the door without waking him. I press my ear to the door to make sure his mom isn't nearby. Everything is quiet out in the hall, so I open the door and glance up and down the hallway before hurrying to my room.

  Thankfully, I make it without running into anyone. I just want to be alone with my thoughts. I lock the door and pace, my heart feeling like it will shatter into a million pieces.

  Do I dare give into the hope that my birth parents are still alive? Or should I care? They gave me up for adoption—to Merle, of all people! They look happy. Clearly, they don't miss me. I was probably an unwanted burden. Something that held back their careers. They couldn't lead the lives they wanted with me around.

  Tears blur my vision, but I don't care. How could they give me up? Couldn't they just hire a nanny? Or a fleet of them? To pass me off to Merle like an unwanted dog is cruel at best.

  I pull out my phone and take half a moment to pull up pages and pages of their pictures. Then I study my reflection in the mirror and compare it to a close-up of the two of them together.

  Elise has dark brown eyes, not dissimilar to mine. Even the shape is close enough to send chills down my back. I really could be a mix of the two of them.

  I put the phone on the dresser and throw myself on the bed. How could this be? My parents, known and loved by the public. Elise with her fashion line and Maximo with his shows.

  Is that why I was never allowed to be online? Why everyone else in our home was allowed cell phones and computers except me? Because my birth parents didn't want me to figure out their dirty secret?

  I grab the nearest pillow, bury my face into it, and scream. Then I give into my tears and cry, breaking up the sobs with yelling. Once there's nothing more left, I sit up and punch the pillow until its shape is gone completely.

  What am I supposed to do now? How much more rejection and hate am I going to have to live with?

  Images flash through my mind in rapid-fire succession. Caroline driving away, leaving me with Merle. Kids at school making fun of me for my ugly, ratty clothes. Neighbor kids laughing because my mom was never coming back. Liz moving in and making me haul my stuff to the smallest bedroom so her son can have mine. The first night Theo came to my room.

  All of it could've been avoided if my real parents had cared at all. But they hadn't. I'd been too much of a bother.

  I grab my phone and look at the picture of the two of them. "Well, you don't have to worry about me now. I'll keep far away from you. I'm not going to ask for money or fame or love. I don't want anything from you people! You're just as heartless as everyone else I call family."

  A notification pops up for one of the social media apps saying I have a message on my profile. I click the notification only so I can delete my account. That way everyone can forget about me and move on.

  Some of the comments catch my attention.

  Loser.

  Whore.

  Pathetic.

  Worthless waste of space.

  You should just kill yourself.

  That one has more likes than all the others combined. And the comments only continue down the screen, going on and on. All telling me how hated I am.

  The room is getting smaller. The walls are closing in on me. I can't stay here. I need air.

  Where a
m I going to go? I need to get away from this house. Far away so I can figure out what to do. I also need time.

  I stumble to the bed and pull back the covers. If I don't want anyone figuring out that I've left, I need to give them a distraction. I stuff pillows and clothes under the covers until it looks like I'm asleep. If anyone opens the door to check on me, they'll believe I'm right there.

  Good. Because I don't want Rogan coming after me. I can't live with this pain. If he saves me again, I'm only going to face more heartache.

  I'm sick of hurting. Sick of being despised and hated. Unwanted. Ruining everything I touch. If I'd have successfully met with that train the day Rogan pushed his way into my life, then Caroline would still be alive. Rogan's band would still be together, and he would have his contract.

  The least I can do is to get away from everything so he can focus on his new band and they can get an agent. Without me getting in the way, he can become famous.

  I grab a piece of paper from the drawer in the nightstand and scrawl a message to Rogan. Once it's just right, I fold it and slide it under the covers so he can see it when he finally figures out I'm not sleeping.

  Then I put on some shoes and head for the back door, where I'm least likely to run into anyone.

  I leave the house for the last time.

  Rogan

  I sit up and look around my room. Something woke me, but I don't know what.

  Kenna's gone. I'd held her for hours last night, refusing to let go, until she fell asleep. Then I finally relaxed and slept too.

  I press the sheets where she'd slept.

  Cold. She'd left a while ago.

  Terror rips through me, given how upset she'd been the night before. I race to my door and down to her room.

  I knock softly, then with force.

  She doesn't respond.

  "Kenna!"

  Nothing.

  I twist the knob and throw open the door. She's in her bed.

  Relief washes through me. She must've wanted to be alone. At least she's resting.