"Here's the truth." He shuts the alb.u.m. "Your mom and dad made mistakes and so have I. We were young and didn't know who the f.u.c.k we were. I've seen you change over the last two months. You can go back to that huge house and play marionette for the Youngs just like your mom and dad did or you can break the chains and make your own decisions."

I jump off the stool, then kick it out of the way as I step into his s.p.a.ce. The stool snaps and rattles against the ground. "You don't know what I'm up against."

"If it's the Youngs, it contains control and money. Just a tidbit of fatherly advice-once you start down that path, it's like entering a savage garden. It's beautiful until the vines tear you apart. Your mom used to be a different person. She used to be full of life."

I loathe the pity flowing out of Abby's eyes and I suddenly understand why she hates it. "Why the h.e.l.l am I listening to you? You gave me up."

"Funny," says Denny, "how you still ended up here. The kid who walked in here two months ago thought being a man meant calling out every a.s.shole on the block. Tell me, are you the same stupid kid or have you figured out what being a man truly means?"

Haley The skies finally opened up and erupted in rain. My hair sticks to my face and my shirt clings to my body as I enter my uncle's. I shiver against the combination of the warmth of the house and the cold drops of rain that slither down my arms. My toes go behind my heel to kick off my shoe, but I stop when Mom walks into the living room with a phone pressed to her ear. Her face is white and her fingers shake.

"If you hear from him, you'll let me know?" she asks. Everything is wrong. The house sits silent. My uncle doesn't rule the world from his chair. My younger cousins aren't shoving each other against a wall. Maggie isn't drawing on the floor.

"Okay, thanks." She clicks off the phone and she looks at me. "I thought you were heading to the gym after school."

I fight the automatic tears with the mention of anything a.s.sociated with West. "I changed my mind. Where's Paul?"

"Your aunt persuaded him to leave with her to help me out. I need time."

The way her hands shake sets me on edge. "What's wrong?"

"It's your father. He's missing."

West It's close to midnight and I slam the back door to the kitchen. My mother spins. Her cell phone is tight to her ear and her eyes are wide and puffy. "He's here."

Mom pushes a b.u.t.ton and lowers the phone. I've spent hours driving, thinking about my mother: her asking me continually to use a napkin at the dinner table, the glares when I'd wear a hat backward at a charity event, teaching which fork to use at a dinner party, the countless tux ties she'd undone and done again. "You lied."

"I didn't think Denny would tell you."

"For eighteen years I've thought I was a failure. I thought I was the reason Colleen died, but I was never going to be a match to begin with."

Her hand flashes to her heart. "They said there might be a slim hope, so I did hope, and it gave your father hope, and he was able to see past my mistake and love you because you were going to be our answer."

I throw my arms out. "And then he hated me once I failed!"

"That's not true." Dad walks into the kitchen.

Dark hair, dark eyes and nothing like me. "Is it a relief I'm not yours? You must have been dying to tell me since when, fifth grade?"

Dad loosens the tie stuck at his throat. "You're my son. My son. I never wanted you to know."

I yank the picture out of my back pocket and slam it on the island. "I'm not your son."

The moment I hit the hallway, I turn. "I gave up Haley because of you. I gave up the one person who meant a thing to me."

Mom comes up behind Dad and sets a hand on his shoulder. I don't understand the two of them. They hurt each other, betray each other, lie and cheat and yet they still act like they are in love.

Dad covers her hand with his. "You're wrong about Haley. You didn't give her up because of me. You gave her up to help you. To help her."

I chuckle. The son of a b.i.t.c.h has actually said something right. "True, but if it wasn't for you trying to control me, I wouldn't have been faced with a choice between living in h.e.l.l without her or being a b.a.s.t.a.r.d for keeping her from her dreams."

"Let's sit," he says. "Let your mom and I explain."

I don't say no. Instead I walk away.

Haley Jax shines the flashlight on me and I raise my hand up to keep from becoming blinded. "It's almost curfew, Haley. Go home."

"I'm n-n-o-t-t-t g-g-g-oing." My teeth audibly chatter. The rain hammers the pavement and pools on the street. The three of us of have been searching for hours for my father. He's been gone for two days. It turns out Dad started staying out all night over the past three months. Mom kept it a secret from us because he showed early the next morning, and she was able to smuggle him in before my uncle woke for work. This was the first time he's been missing this long.

The spring rain ushers in colder temperatures and with midnight looming, the three of us comb the neighborhood one last time. Jax takes my hand and guides me under the freeway viaduct. A tractor trailer pa.s.ses overhead and the steel and concrete surrounding us rumbles.

Kaden rips off his soaked sweatshirt to expose a long-sleeve undershirt. He pulls the dry shirt off and hands it to me. I shake my head that I don't need it as I rub my hands over my arms to fight the chill. "Take it, Hays, or I'll strip you myself to put it on you."

Both of them turn as I pry the wet material off and shrug into Kaden's semidry and warm shirt. I roll the sleeves up and wish I was under a pile of dry blankets. "I'm done."

They face me again and Kaden yells over the roaring rain. "Now go home!"

I wish I could. "He's my father, too!"

Jax inches closer. "You've never slept on the streets. It's going to get d.a.m.ned cold soon."

"Three sets of eyes will find him faster. You're wasting time! What if he's out here? What if something happened to him?"

"Go tell Dad what we're doing," Jax says. "Maybe he'll let us in tonight if he knows we're searching for his brother. You know your mom and Maggie are upset. Be with them. They need you."

My jaw aches with the constant chattering. "You're trying to get rid of me."

Jax's whitish hair is plastered to his head. "You're becoming hypothermic and we don't need a hospital run on top of finding your dad. Go home."

"What about you guys? Where will you stay if it gets too cold?" The last bus to the gym left a half hour ago.

"When are you going to learn we're tougher than we look?" Jax flashes a sly grin. "Go on. Get going. There are minutes left until curfew."

Begrudgingly, I walk into the pounding rain. A car comes up the road and I step into the gra.s.s to avoid becoming two points against the driver's license. The lights. .h.i.t me and I look away to avoid the brightness and that's when I spot movement down the freeway ditch.

My heartbeat rushes to my ears as I recognize the tan coat. "Kaden! Jax!"

I race down the gully, fumbling and sliding down the hill, and scream for my family again. They yell back my name and their footsteps pound behind me. Beams of light bounce on the dirt before me. The saturated ground gives and my feet slip out from underneath me. My hands fly back to break the fall, and Jax catches me from behind as Kaden rushes past.

Kaden bends over the form. "It's him! Jax, I need you!"

I steady my feet and Jax jumps down and helps Kaden draw my father up. Shivers run through me and it's not from the cold, but from the fear. "Is he okay?" He has to be. My heart can't take much more loss.

"f.u.c.k!" mutters Jax as he crouches in front of him. "He's drunk."

Not caring if the entire hill has dissolved into a mudslide, I collapse back onto my b.u.t.t. My father, the man who hardly ever drinks, is drunk and there's no way my uncle will allow anyone who touches alcohol in his house. "We're all screwed."

West I lie in bed and blur my vision so that the ceiling-fan blades merge into one. In my hand, I click the remote to my stereo on and off. Sound to no sound. Haley's ghost surrounds me here. Her laughter echoes in my head; the memories of her touch whisper against my skin.

The house is too still. Too silent. The impulse is for sound, noise, music, dancing and alcohol, but I can't live like that anymore. Haley said I was better. I am better. I told her she was worth fighting for and as she was on the verge of believing it-I abandoned her.

The burst of agony through the numbness causes me to roll off the bed and head out the door. Haley said impulse has to do with emotion, with not thinking. The urge is to forget. I bypa.s.s the dark stairs and slow when I reach Rachel's door.

The bottom of the door brushes against the floor as it opens and this time there is no bluish glow. She had physical therapy this evening and her breathing is light. Asleep in a chair across the room with a closed laptop on his lap is her twin, Ethan.

I ease down to the floor with my back against her bed. The silence in here is by far more deafening than my room, but I'm searching to fill the emptiness, the sh.e.l.l that I've become.

There's a shift and a hand slides down and touches my shoulder.

"I gave her up, Rachel." My voice cracks and the desperation, the pain I've tried to bury, breaks through to the surface. "I gave her up and, right now, I don't know why."

Wetness fills my eyes and I slam my fist into the floor, p.i.s.sed. Rachel moves to the edge of the bed. "Then you win her back."

"Dad will give her what she wants." I stop. f.u.c.k me. f.u.c.k him. f.u.c.k all of this. "He's not my dad."

She's silent for a second and the sigh that escapes her lips cuts deep. "Mom told us."

There's a flop next to me and my eyes widen when a groggy Ethan rests his head against the bed. "Can we get the mental breakdown over so I can get some sleep?"

"Why are you in here?"

"The same reason you are," he says. "The same reason the three of us ever do anything and end up together. Though our problems seemed a lot less complicated when we were pouring bubble bath into the Jacuzzi. It doesn't matter who your dad is, West, because the real Youngs, they're in this room. It's always been the three of us against everyone else. For some reason, it's just taken us longer to get back together."

I lower my head into my hands and I fight the wave of grief that sweeps over me. "I don't know who I am anymore."

"Well, if we get a vote, can you stop being Dad?"

"Ethan," Rachel chastises.

Anger curls within me. "What did you say?"

"He's here, Rach, and he's asking for help. We either say this now or lose the opportunity."

She settles back onto the pillows, a silent acceptance.

"You're p.i.s.sed because Dad painted you into a bad spot with Haley, right?" Ethan says.

I nod, but I'm madder at myself.

"Shouldn't Haley be mad at you for taking away her choice? To me, that sounds a lot like how Dad treats us."

"You say you don't know who you are," adds Rachel. "But the question should be-who do you want to be?"

Haley My uncle waits for us on the stoop. With the front porch light off, he's more of a shadow, but the evil pulsating from the house tells me it's him. He leans against the metal pole supporting the overhang and watches as Kaden and Jax drag my half-conscious father toward the house.

"What time is it?" asks Kaden.

"Doesn't matter," answers Jax. "The b.a.s.t.a.r.d isn't going to let any of us in."

Yet we continue forward. "It's his brother. He'll take him in," I say. Maybe not us, but hopefully he'll take my father. "We'll tell him Dad's sick."

"Is there a flu where you reek of beer?" Jax readjusts his hold on my father. The rain continues its onslaught and it makes holding on to anything close to impossible. "There's a reason why my dad's a psychotic control freak. Dad's dad would get drunk, then beat the h.e.l.l out of him. PTSD isn't just for soldiers."

Jax and Kaden stop on the street in front of the house and share a long, hopeless look. Kaden nods to the curb and both he and Jax lower Dad to it. "Keep an eye on him, Hays."

Dad sways and I rush to his side for support. Chills run through my body as I sit in a stream of water rushing to the sewer grate. Dad mumbles something and I can't hear it over the pounding of the rain against the rooftops and the roaring of the water in the sewer tunnels below.

Above us an aging streetlamp buzzes to life. The dull light flickers, creating an eerie strobe. I close my eyes as rain flows over me like a violent waterfall. How did I end up here? How did my life get out of control? "Why?"

Dad lifts his head and John's words echo in my mind: He's lost his fight. Anger swells within me and becomes a tidal wave pouring onto sh.o.r.e. "Why!"

Behind me, Jax and Kaden begin to plead. Dad rubs his hands over his face. "You weren't supposed to find me."

When I was twelve, my father fought his last match. His opponent was half his age, stronger and agile, but my father had skill. I remember watching the bout, my hands wringing together and I kept my eyes glued to my father as if my will was enough to push him to win.

It was a b.l.o.o.d.y fight. Twice he went down. Twice he got back up. At the end of five rounds, my father stood victorious. Now, he sits in a gutter.

"You don't drink. This isn't you," I whisper.

Dad raises his head to the sky and he blinks as if he's drifting into coherency. "I don't know who I am anymore."

I think of home...my home...my bed. I should be there, lying in that upstairs corner room. When it rained, the wind chimes beneath my window on the porch would tinkle and I'd snuggle deeper into the blanket, grateful for protection.

But I'm not there. I'm here. I'm rotting in the sewer next to the father that disappointed me. This disillusion, this overwhelming sense of being let down, it has nothing to do with losing the house or homeless shelters or that we live in h.e.l.l. "How could you give up?"

I shiver, not from the cold but because I feel like someone died-like my father died and he died months ago, but I'm just now discovering the truth.

I glance over my shoulder as footsteps approach. Jax grabs his father's arm as he stalks in our direction. "He's sick, Dad. Let Kaden and I get him in bed."

My uncle twists away from Jax and I lean into my father. "You've got to lie. It's past curfew and it's the only way we're getting in. John's out looking for you and the last bus to the gym is gone. We're out of options."

He reaches over and pushes the drenched hair away from my face. "Why did you come after me? You should be safe in bed."

My teeth audibly click together and the hurt overpowers me, taking me down as if I was tackled below the knees. I want to cry. I want to scream, but I can't. Those are the ways of a child and I'm no longer one. I'm the adult chasing after her father. "Because I don't abandon the people I love. I wouldn't do what you're doing to me right now."

"Help me up."

I stand and hold my hand out to him. He takes it and with more effort than it should take, he shakes to his feet. My uncle rounds on us. The rain has already soaked through his black T-shirt. "What's wrong with you?"

"He's sick," I answer. "Let us get him inside before he pa.s.ses out again."

The glare he throws me causes my spine to straighten. "Unless I speak to you directly, keep your mouth shut."

I bite my lip to halt a response from spewing from my mouth. I hate him. I hate how he demeans me. I hate how he makes me feel as big as a speck of dust and what I hate more is that he's done the same thing to my father, to Jax, to everyone. There's definitely a h.e.l.l and he's on the expected list.

I pray my uncle keeps the distance between them. Maybe, just maybe, through the rain, he won't notice the strong scent of alcohol.

"I felt sick this morning," Dad says. "And it got worse on the bus ride home. I sat down near the side of the road and must have pa.s.sed out."