Total pages in book: 196
Estimated words: 186555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 933(@200wpm)___ 746(@250wpm)___ 622(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 933(@200wpm)___ 746(@250wpm)___ 622(@300wpm)
“You look so much like your mom,” the older man said, pulling my attention back toward him. His forehead scrunched, and the surprised expression that had been on his face melted into a troubled one. “I told myself I wouldn’t bring it up the first time I saw you, but I have to say—”
I cut him off. “You don’t have to say anything.”
“No, I do,” Mr. Nez insisted, looking more and more upset by the second. “I’ve been living with this guilt for twenty years. I’m sorry we all lost touch. I’m sorry we didn’t see you again after they took you away.”
A knot magically appeared in my throat at that exact second.
“Wait, who took who away?” Jackie asked from where she’d taken a seat on the floor by the television screen. Now she was making a face too.
The lack of response to her made the room feel tense, or at least it felt that way to me.
But I didn’t want to ignore her, even if I felt Mr. Rhodes’s gaze still steady on me.
The knot stayed exactly where it was. “Me, Jackie. Remember Clara said I used to live here? And how I was friends with her? Child services took me. That was the last time I saw your aunt or your grandpa, twenty years ago.”
Chapter 9
“Okay, someone explain this,” Jackie muttered, looking confused.
But Mr. Nez ignored everyone but me as he said, “The last I heard, the state took you into a foster home while they looked for your father.”
Well, I didn’t really want to talk about this in front of everyone, but it wasn’t like I had a choice. He knew. Clara hadn’t wanted to bring it up either, but they both deserved to know what had happened, even if it was out of order. “My uncle ended up taking me in,” I explained. Trying to go into details about my dad was pointless.
“Uncle? I remember your mother saying she was an only child.”
“It was her half-brother. Older. They weren’t close, but he and his wife took custody of me. I moved to Florida to be with them. After.”
Her eyebrows inched upward with every word out of my mouth, his devastated expression going nowhere.
“I don’t know what’s happening, and I want to know,” Jackie said.
“Jackie,” Clara called out from the kitchen where she’d disappeared into. “If you be quiet, you can put it together.”
“They wouldn’t tell us what happened after child services took you; they said we weren’t family, but we were all so worried…,” the older man murmured gently. “It was such a relief when you and Clara got back in touch.”
“Mr. Rhodes, do you know what’s going on?” Jackie asked.
Mr. Nez sighed and eyed his granddaughter for a second before focusing back on me. “Would you mind if I explained?”
“No,” I told him honestly.
“Aurora and her mom used to live here in Pagosa, you know that already?”
The teenage girl nodded, glancing in my direction. “And something happened and your uncle and aunt took you in, Ora?”
I nodded. “When I was thirteen, my mom went for a hike and never came back.”
It was then Mr. Rhodes happened to lean forward, finally deciding to speak. “Now I know why your last name was familiar. De La Torre. Azalia De La Torre. She went missing.”
He knew?
There was more to the story. More to my mom and the mystery, but those were the basics of it. I didn’t have the heart to bring up the other parts of it. The parts that some people had whispered about but had never really been confirmed.
How for so long, they had thought that she had abandoned me instead of getting hurt and never making it back out.
How she had struggled with depression and maybe whatever had happened to her hadn’t been an accident.
How I was supposed to have gone with her but hadn’t, and maybe if I had, she would still be around.
This crushing sense of guilt that I’d thought I’d moved on from weighed my chest down—my very soul down, honestly. I knew my mom would never abandon me. She had loved me. Adored me. She had wanted me.
And something had happened and she hadn’t come back.
My mom hadn’t been perfect, but she hadn’t done the things that they had accused her of.
“That’s so sad,” Jackie murmured. “They never found her body?”
“Jesus Christ, Jackie,” Clara yelled from the kitchen. “Could you ask that any worse?”
“I’m sorry!” the teenager cried. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know,” I assured her. I’d heard the same question stated about a dozen different ways that were genuinely more hurtful. And it was fine. She was curious.
“What made you want to come back here?” Mr. Nez asked, his face thoughtful.
Wasn’t that the million-dollar question? I shrugged. “I’m just starting over. It felt right to do it here.”