I know that I'm out of time. I know that I have to tell them, but somehow, telling them makes it seem almost real. While I know, logically, that the police had no reason to lie to me, up to this point, I've been able to tell myself that it's all just one big mistake.
Telling them makes it seem less of a mistake and more of a reality.
They stare at me, expecting me to continue, so I take a deep breath, clenching my fists so tight that my nails dig into the palms of my hands, trying to center myself as I say the words.
"Apparently, they ran a DNA test, and they seem to think that Crawford is my dad."
* * *
The explosions that came with the announcement of Crawford being my biological dad were about as fireworks-like as expected.
Travis has already found some way to do our own DNA test to confirm it, but I already know that I'm going to have to confront my mom about what the police have told me. Because, while she is an excellent liar, I know if I ask her to her face, without warning, that she won't be able to hide her expression. If I do that, I'll know in an instant, but until then, I get to live in denial.
Despite the fact that the police have absolutely no reason to lie about any of it, I refuse to believe it's true until I have my own proof.
The boys have been downstairs making a plan, trying to work out how to get some of Crawford's DNA from his house, since the police are all over it. They've also been talking about how that DNA could have ended up on the body, whether it was someone who came into contact with Crawford before he died, which seems highly unlikely, considering the amount of time that's passed, or whether the DNA was planted. And if it was, what does that mean for me?
Is it this twisted person who keeps sending me these notes telling me they're going to protect me that's doing this since they know what happened with Crawford? Are they doing this to try and save me? Or is this something else entirely?
I hate not having the answers to all of the burning questions swirling in my mind, but I thank God for me being so good at compartmentalizing because if I didn't have that particular trauma response, I'm not sure I'd still be able to function right now.
A knock on the door sounds and I roll over in bed in time to see Travis opening the door. He steps inside without saying a word and closes it behind him before padding quietly over to the bed and lying down beside me.
He doesn't say a word. He just lies there with me, staring at me.
I don't try to speak either, because I'm not sure what else there is to say at this point. I know there's still a lot between us that’s unresolved, even after New Year’s, but I feel like that isn't where my focus should be right now.
It's almost like the four of them have become a safety blanket for me, which is entirely absurd, considering everything that's happened to this point. But it is what it is.
"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" he asks, propping his head up on his hand. I mirror his action before shrugging.
"I’ve got about a thousand thoughts running through my mind at a million miles an hour," I tell him softly. "At the moment, I think my brain is just looking for a distraction so I don't have a complete meltdown."
"I’m fairly certain that between the four of us we can come up with a distraction for you," he teases, wagging his brows, drawing a small laugh from me.
"I have no doubt that you could," I respond with a smirk. "And as much as that sounds like the best kind of distraction, I feel like with everything else going on, whatever is happening between the five of us shouldn't be our focus right now."
He reaches forward and takes my hand, threading his fingers with mine. "This thing between the five of us is definitely something we should talk about right now. Even with everything else going on, maybebecauseof everything else going on. There are things about me that you don't know. I know that I've been blowing hot and cold with you, but once I tell you this, it will make a bit more sense."
I keep my mouth shut, waiting for him to continue speaking, wondering what the hell he’s talking about.
He closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath before flopping onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. I do the same, keeping our fingers locked together, and wait for him to speak.
"I have a little sister," he says quietly. "Her name is Katy and she's only ten years old. My father has her away at boarding school. He’s kept her away from me and uses her as leverage against me. I know exactly what he's capable of, so I know his threats aren't idle, and I'll do whatever it takes to protect her."
It feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest at his confession. I had no idea about his little sister. But knowing how much I would do for Iris if she was still here…
I can't find it in me to hold anything against him anymore.
I squeeze his hand and wait for him to continue.
"My father has a plan for me and it's been set out practically since I was born. Pops has helped me try to fight against most of it, but even with my father being afraid of my Pops, there's still only so much that he can do. He's not going to be around forever. And he also refuses to interject on Katy's behalf. My pops doesn't believe that my dad will do anything to her that will cause any major harm because it's the boys in the family that are given the pressure and the girls that are cherished and looked after." He lets out another deep sigh before continuing. "Except I know exactly what my dad's capable of. And when he tells me that he'll kill her and dispose of her without anybody knowing, I absolutely believe him, especially since almost nobody knows that she even exists anymore. There's a lot of mystery surrounding my mom's death because my father didn't want people to know what she was going through."
He pauses again before telling me about the cancer that took his mother from him. About how he watched her disappear before his eyes a little at a time, day by day. About how Katy was sent away while his mom was sick so that she didn't have to watch, and so Chase didn't have to actually look after her.
He tells me about going to her dance recitals and seeing her every opportunity he can. "But the boarding school is on the other side of the country, so I only get to see her a couple of times a year. I check in with her professors regularly to make sure that everything's going okay and I try to video call with her at least weekly."
Finding this out about him makes a lot of things make more sense, but it does leave me with one question.