Page 138 of Passion at the Lake

“No, Angela, you listen. I have a good thing here with John and the kids. They don’t know anything about my past life, about your father, about our marriage. I’m not messing this up.”

“But it’s just me, not him,” I tried.

“I made mistakes. But I’m not explaining that part of my life and risking what I’ve built here.” Her tone was colder than I’d ever heard. “When I left, you made your decision. You stayed behind instead of coming with me.”

I’d stayed, but it had been because of school, not Dad. How could my own mother hold that against me? “But why?” I sobbed.

“You showing up would start questions I can’t answer.”

That made my plight clear. Her clean slate hadn’t included me. In her mind, I was one of those mistakes she’d left behind, lumped in with Dad.

As hot tears streamed down my cheeks, I realized the truth. She’d just told me her new husband and family didn’t know about Dad, and it meant they didn’t know about me either, which explained why she always went outside to talk to me.

Bile rose up my throat.

“Goodbye, Angela. Don’t come.”

The line went silent. I didn’t exist as her daughter anymore—only a shameful chapter of her history, never to be disclosed. I slumped onto the step and wiped away tears.

I had no family to turn to. Dad was in prison, my mother didn’t want me to visit because she was ashamed of me, my sister was biased toward Kevin and wouldn’t take the time to understand my plight.

My situation couldn’t get any worse. Rock, meet fucking bottom.

Without the option to run to Mom’s, I was left with what? Going back to Kevin? Well, fuck that. I’d make a new plan.

I was stuck here with nowhere else to go, and no money to do it with anyway. I’d already quit the hotel job, not that I would work for Boone again at this point, and I hadn’t finished the HD site selection project yet to win the competition.

I lifted myself up to go back inside the tiny cabin. All that was left was begging for help.

“Who died?” Pris asked when I walked back into the cabin. Hiding my teary eyes was impossible. Hungover and desperate had to be the worst look ever.

“I need a favor—sorry, what I mean is I’d really like a favor, please.”

She turned back to the sink. “Hey, no problem. I said I’d loan you money for your trip. How much do you need?”

I went to the counter and picked up the tequila bottle. Maybe Jose would make me feel better. “It’s worse than that. Much worse.”

She grabbed the neck of the bottle. “Whatever it is, this isn’t the answer. Talk to me.”

Was this going to become a tug-of-war? I let go of the bottle as tears threatened. “I can’t go to Florida.”

“I thought—”

I started to sob. “She doesn’t want me to come.”

In a split second, Pris wrapped me in a tight hug. “That’s terrible.”

My words spilled out in a waterfall. “I’m a part of her past she wants to forget. She never told her new family about me. If I showed up, I’d ruin things for her.”

Pris rubbed my back and hugged me. What could she say? What could anyone say to news like that? I was the child my mother didn’t want to acknowledge.

“I can’t go back to Kevin.” That prospect was too terrible to consider.

She released me from the hug and started towing me to the door. “Of course not!” she said. “I got you covered, girl. You can stay here with me. Now, let’s go out to eat. I know where we can get a wicked breakfast burrito.”

She continued to chatter as I looked around for my purse. “The best thing to get your mind off shit like this is to get immersed in another project. You stay at my place as long as you need and help me work on my Lee mystery some more.”

Crunching of gravel announced the arrival of another car.

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