"I couldn't love you more if I gave birth to you myself," Mom says as tears spill down her face.

Gave birth myself?

Our little miracle?

"What's going on?"

"You were placed in my arms," she says through her tears, but I interrupt.

"Wait a minute. You said 'if you gave birth to me yourself.' You're joking right?"

Dad leans over and takes my hand in his. "You are the baby we always wanted but couldn't have on our own."

My head is spinning over this confession at the hands of my parents. The people I love more than anything in this world. Two people I've known and trusted my whole life are telling me things that I can't seem to wrap my mind around. My eyes burn as tears begin to form, yet I can't seem to pull my gaze away from the two strangers who raised me.

"What are you talking about?" I demand through clenched teeth. I can feel my nose tingle and my entire body feels like it's one hundred degrees.

"When we got married, we wanted to start a family right away," Mom says quietly as tears continue to fall, "but after years of trying, doctors told us that our chances of conceiving were slim to none and suggested we search other options." She drops her head as a sob escapes her and I look to my dad, who looks equally upset.

"It was another year before we found someone," he sighs. "She wanted an open adoption, but only because she wanted to be there when you were older, if you had any questions."

The tears spill out of my eyes as I listen to my parents tell me a story that seems too unreal to be true. They are both willing to answer my questions and fill in any gaps, but I'm in a state of shock.

"But you had Luka," I finally say when I calm down enough. "I felt her move in your stomach. So you had a baby of your own."

"We did, but it never made us love you any less. You're our baby, too," Mom sobs.

I shake my head furiously, still trying to understand.

"Why today? Why my birthday, of all days? Why didn't you tell me sooner?" I yell, even as my mom winces from the bite in my tone. "Just ready to finally get rid of me? I'm too old and too much of a burden, thank G.o.d you have a real kid to take care of!"

"Laila Jude," my dad shouts, "you will not talk to your mother and me like that. Do you understand?"

I jump off the bed and run to my door without giving them time to stop me. Just before I close the door, I turn to them and look my dad in the eye with all the anger I can muster. "Apparently I'm not your concern since I'm not your daughter."

I slam the door and stop for a moment to hear my mom wail in pain from my words. If I don't hurry, they'll be behind me in a flash, so I grab the car keys and run out the back door without so much as a 'see you later.'

What's the point? Why should I tell them anything, since it's apparently okay to keep secrets...for someone's entire life!

Chapter 15 ~ Finding s.p.a.ce.

"Laila," I hear my dad yell as I back down the driveway, but I don't stop. I don't want to hear anything else they have to say. I don't know where I'm heading, but I can think of a few places that are out of the question and the quarry is one of them. It will be the first place they'll look.

My phone is in my purse and the familiar ring I a.s.signed to my parents sounds but I ignore and silence it since there is nothing I want to hear from them anyway. Mom told me once that driving while in an emotional state isn't exactly wise, and considering the blurry view I'm able to obtain through the tears, I can understand why now.

"How could they keep this from me?" I scream past the lump in my throat.

My entire life has been a lie. I don't have my mom's eyes or my dad's odd sense of humor. There is nothing of me that is from them because I'm not from them.

Memories flood my mind and every one of them hurts my heart.

Christmases with Grandma. Oh my gosh, she's not even my grandma!

The family reunions in Oklahoma with Dad's side of the family where people would surround me and comment on how tall I was or how my features must be from Mom's side of the family. How did I not pick up on these little things?

The uncontrollable sobbing is hurting my chest and I can hardly keep my eyes open as I drive, so I pull off to the side of the road without looking to see where I've ended up. It feels as if I've been driving for hours, but in reality it's only been one.

I throw the car into park and take the keys out of the engine while I try to compose myself and see my phone glowing again from my purse. Hesitantly, I pull it out and see a string of texts, missed calls and messages-none of which I have the least interest in returning, but I read through them.

Dad: Please come back home Mom: We need to talk Dad: Where are you?

Haden: Your mom just called me freaking out. What's going on? Are you okay?

Mom: Laila, you need to come back. I'm so sorry.

Joey: What's going on? Where are you? I'll come get you Bailey: Joey is freaking out. Call me Dad: Get back here now Braxton: Why is everyone looking for you?

Cole: The Instagram stuff wasn't that bad was it? ;) Where are you?

Haden: Joey asked if you were with me. Go to the gallery, I'll meet you there.

The last message from Haden was sent two minutes ago and the gallery is only a fifteen-minute drive from here. As I'm about to send him a message, my phone vibrates in my hand and I immediately answer it when I see Joey's face flash on the screen.

"What's going on?" he asks without saying h.e.l.lo.

"I can't," I sob again as tears stream down my face. "They lied."

"Who lied? Where are you? You're worrying me, Lai."

"I'll be fine." I lie, because right now I'm not sure I will be. "I just need to be alone."

"You don't need to be alone, you need to go home. Your mom is freaking out."

"I really don't give a d.a.m.n, Joey!" I yell at his defense of her.

"You should-she's your mom. What did she do that's so terrible?"

"I can't talk right now. I gotta go."

I hang up the phone and wipe my face on my shirt before I look at my reflection in the rearview mirror. Red nose, gla.s.sy eyes, splotchy face, and smeared mascara stare back at me but I do my best to recover before turning the car back on. In all the years that Joey and I have been friends, I don't think I've ever hung up on him, let alone yelled at him, but he said the wrong thing. He's supposed to be on my side, not theirs.

The morning traffic is starting to get heavy, but the gallery isn't too far away and I have a feeling that Haden is already there. When I turn down Main Street, the small boutique stores are only beginning to open but the small coffee shop is busy. Any other day, I'd probably enjoy the people-watching, but at the moment, my goal is to get to the building at the end of the road where I hope Haden is waiting.

The gallery is next door to a small bakery that is known for its homemade m.u.f.fins, so there is no place for me to park this early-which means I'll have to go to the back. The gravel crunches beneath the tires while I slowly make my way to the rear entrance and pull to a stop. There is only one other car here, and it's not Haden's.

Instead of waiting for him, I climb out of the car and head to the entrance and take a seat on the bench where cigarette b.u.t.ts litter the ground. My tears start falling again, despite my efforts to be strong.

I don't want to cry.

I want to be angry. I want to yell and say hateful things and make them hurt as much as I hurt. But I don't have the energy.

"Hey," I hear Haden call to me when he shuts his car door.

I don't say a word, and when he sees my appearance he rushes toward me. He pulls me into his arms and melts to the ground with me as I sob anew.

"Shh," he coos, smoothing my hair and holding me so close I can hear his heartbeat. "I'm right here. You're going to be okay."

I shake my head in disagreement, still unable to force my voice to work.

Slowly, he moves his hands to my shoulders to push me away so he can see my face. Concern is etched across his features, a question he doesn't seem to want to ask when he wipes the tears from my eyes.

"I hate them," I cry out. "I love them and I hate them and I don't know what to do."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

I nod my head and take a deep breath in an effort to calm myself. He helps me to my feet and holds my hand as he leads me to the back entrance of the gallery. Stefon must have given him a key, because he opens the door and takes me to the lounge to have a seat on the red velvet couch.

Haden grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and hands it to me before sitting down and pulling me into his arms. I can't make myself look at him and he seems to understand. He leans against the armrest and pulls me back so I am resting against his chest with his arms wrapped around me protectively. His patience and kindness cause my heart to swell so that I am finally able to speak.

"This morning, my parents told me that I was adopted."

"What?" he gasps in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

I lean forward so I can look at his face, but he holds me tighter and I realize the question was rhetorical.

"Happy birthday to me," I mutter. "My entire life, they have told me how special I am and how much they love me. Every time someone asked them where I got my abilities, they claimed from them, but it was a lie. I'm not their daughter."

"Lai?" He says my name as if he's asking permission to speak, so I stay quiet. "You're their daughter in every way that counts. Have you ever doubted that they love you or want what's best for you?"

I shake my head and he leans forward so his face is next to mine.

"I'm not going to lie and say I understand why they never told you sooner or that I know what you're going through, because I don't. But they do love you."

"I know they do," I agree as the tears fill my eyes again. "But how could they keep this from me?"

"I think that's something you'd have to ask them."

"Hey guys, you aren't my real parents, and you've kept the truth from me for eighteen years. Why now? On my d.a.m.n birthday?" I scoff at the potential argument.

"Would it have been better if they told you when you were ten? Or waited a day and then told you?" he asks.

"That's not the point," I argue. "Haden, this is huge. And I feel like the biggest idiot for not seeing it sooner. I mean, I look nothing like either of them. I used to wonder if I was adopted because I didn't look like anyone in my family, but that's what kids do-but they never really expect it to turn out true. It's one of those weird things that everyone wonders at some point. Right? I mean, Mom is tall, blonde, and curvy-I'm brunette, blue-green eyes, and look like a stick. Dad is heavyset, brown eyes, and a freaking doctor-I'm nothing like either of them."

"I get it," he says, but I cut him off and jump to my feet to pace around the room.

"No, you don't get it. I don't get it," I admit. "How is this happening? How can I have so much anger, sadness, and curiosity all at one time? It brings so many questions that I'm not sure I want the answers to."

"Like what?"

"Like, who's my birth mom?" I drop my head to my hands and huff a disbelieving laugh. "Birth mom. What the h.e.l.l? Two words I never thought would come out of my mouth about myself. But here I am wondering about her. Do they know who she is and where I can find her? What about my dad? Does he even know I exist? Do I have any other siblings?"

I drop back to the couch and look up at the ceiling, willing the tears to stay away. I don't want to cry, yet I can't seem to turn the faucet off.

"Haden-I don't think I can handle this," I say unwilling to look at him. "I don't want to."

He reaches out to hold my hand and waits for me to look at him. When I finally do, he moves closer and gives me a simple kiss, calming my nerves. He leans his forehead against mine and takes a deep breath and I close my eyes, feeling the weight of everything on my shoulders.

"Lai," he whispers, "you can handle this. I know you're hurting and you're p.i.s.sed off right now. You have every right to be. But you are the strongest person I know and you can do this-you have to. It sucks, but this isn't the end of the world and I'll be here for you to do whatever you need."

"I need to go back, don't I?"

Haden leans back to look at me and offers a small smile that melts my cold, angry heart. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to. But I think you should."

"Thank you," I sigh.

"For what?"

"Telling me what I need to hear, not what I want to hear." I attempt to smile at him.

"So if I remind you that I love you right now, where does that fit?"

"It's what I want and need right now," I tell him truthfully.

"There's no rush. We can sit here and talk-or not-for as long as you want."

"Okay," I agree, saying nothing more.

"Not exactly the birthday you expected, huh?"

"You know, I thought new clothes, new phone, maybe a new car-but new mom never crossed my mind," I say, trying to make a joke.

"Did they tell you anything about her?"

I let out a small laugh and shake my head. "I didn't really give them a chance."

"So what now?"

"I guess I should go home and talk to them-get some answers," I say.

He stands up and extends his hand to help me to my feet. I rise up on my toes and wrap my arms around his neck as he wraps his arms around my waist to hold me. I feel safe and loved, but when he kisses the top of my head, I feel special.