"I think she is. She lives in a nice apartment, and it's filled with your pictures. She's got a job and, well, she asked me to give you this." She held the envelope out toward Mich.e.l.le.

"What is it?"

"I don't know the specifics." Danica wanted to grant Mich.e.l.le privacy with regard to the contents of the letter. Whatever her mother had written, she didn't want to dampen or enhance the meaning. That was for Mich.e.l.le to figure out. "She said she wanted you to have it."

Mich.e.l.le turned away.

"I'll never push you to see your mom, but I will tell you that everyone makes mistakes, and you two have a whole lot of years ahead of you. I'd just hate to see you throw that away. What she's dealt with is terribly difficult for you, and I don't blame you for not knowing if you can trust anything she says yet."

A couple walked into the room, and Mich.e.l.le covered her face. The couple wandered back out of the room, and a new trickle of people began to filter in.

"Wanna go?" she asked Mich.e.l.le.

Mich.e.l.le shook her head. She took the envelope from Danica and put it in her pocket, then wiped her eyes and forced a smile on her lips. "I don't even know what to think," she said in a hushed voice.

"You don't have to. You're a kid. Just be open to forgiveness if or when you feel it's time." She took Mich.e.l.le's hand and walked her over to a wooden bench near the corner of the room. They sat side by side. "Mich.e.l.le, do you remember what it was really like for all those years when your mom was home, or do you think that your memory of her being with random men and drinking was maybe an exaggeration?"

"Here comes Dr. Snow." Mich.e.l.le smirked.

"I'm sorry. I'm trying to understand something that her counselor told me."

Mich.e.l.le pursed her lips and looked away.

"Mich.e.l.le? I won't judge you," Danica a.s.sured her.

Mich.e.l.le crossed her arms. She looked down, around the room, anywhere but at Danica.

"It's okay. We don't have to talk about this." Danica let her off the hook.

They walked around the museum for a few more uncomfortable minutes, and then Mich.e.l.le asked if she'd take her home. Danica knew she'd caused a setback.

She pulled up in front of Nola's house and apologized to Mich.e.l.le for prying into her life.

Mich.e.l.le twisted the ends of her scarf. "I'm not sure how to tell you what I need to say."

Oh G.o.d. She doesn't want me to be her Big Sister anymore. Why didn't I see this coming?

"I made most of it up. The stuff I said about my mom not being there, being with random guys and all. I just..."

"Oh, Mich.e.l.le. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." Mich.e.l.le looked up, her voice filled with self-hatred. "I hated her for what she did. I read her diary the night she was drinking, and I know she drank because of my father-who she told me was dead, for G.o.d's sake! Dead! She lied to me."

Danica was quick to respond and take control. "She thought it was best, I'm sure."

"Yeah, for her maybe. She wasn't out with random guys. She was never out doing anything other than working, as far as I knew, but then she drank. She drank herself into oblivion that night." Tears spilled from Mich.e.l.le's eyes. "It was just hard to see-my mother splayed out on her bedroom floor, drunk, totally out of it."

Danica reached for her, and Mich.e.l.le pushed her away.

"Don't you see? I'm a terrible person. I called her all sorts of names and cursed at her and told her she was worthless as a mother. And the next day, she was gone-in rehab, and I was here with Grandma."

"It was your mother's decision to go into rehab, and I'd imagine, from what I know about your family history, that one night scared her and Nola enough to take it seriously. Alcoholism can be a slippery slope. That's a terrible burden for you to carry, Mich.e.l.le, but you might have saved her life."

"No, I didn't. I ruined her life. If I hadn't made a big deal of it, she wouldn't have gone into rehab and lost her job; she wouldn't be known as the mom who was an alcoholic. I caused it all. I should have let her have her drunken fit and ignored it, but I couldn't see past my anger because she'd lied to me." Mich.e.l.le sobbed. "I'm sure you hate me now, and I'll understand if you don't want to hang out with me anymore."

Danica pulled her close this time, not letting Mich.e.l.le push out of her embrace. "Not see you? You're like family now. You're stuck with me." She hugged her close; then Mich.e.l.le sank back into the safety of the pa.s.senger seat. "I do have one question. Tell me about the first time your mom went to rehab."

"I was little. I don't really remember what happened. I just know I had to stay with Grandma. And I think I used that against her when I found out she'd lied to me about my dad. You should have seen her face when I said she was nothing but a lousy drunk." Mich.e.l.le's shoulders shook as she sobbed into her hands. "G.o.d, I'm so awful."

"No, you were hurt. But why would your mom go into rehab if she didn't have a problem?"

Mich.e.l.le lifted her pink, puffy face from her hands. "To get away from me."

"Oh, Mich.e.l.le, you know that's not true."

"I called Grandma, and they argued. I think Grandma made her go, because of what Grandpa was like or something. I don't know."

"What about what the kids at school say about you? Is that true?"

Mich.e.l.le shrugged.

So, Mich.e.l.le is transferring her feelings about herself onto everyone else. Great. Danica had to wonder if she was doing the same thing. Did she expect people to judge her for dating Blake, or would they really? Who knew he was her client? Could she be using that as an excuse to distance herself from him? She couldn't explore that now. She had to make sure Mich.e.l.le was okay.

"What do I do now?" Mich.e.l.le asked. "I know I shouldn't say it, but I still hate her for lying to me."

"Did you ask her about your father and give her a chance to explain?"

Mich.e.l.le shook her head. "I read her diary. That was wrong, and I knew it, but I did it anyway. She'll hate me."

"I'm not telling you what to do. Only you can make that decision. But sometimes coming clean is the only way to move forward." Coming clean. "Holding in feelings can only stagnate you." She reached over and used her index finger to lift Mich.e.l.le's face so she had to look at her. "What you did was not terrible. Every child reads their parent's diary at some point-when they're living, after they die, out of curiosity. You're not alone in this. Your mom loves you. Let her try to explain; then you can decide whether her reasons are worth hating her forever or not. Maybe they are, maybe not. Who knows?" Danica shrugged.

Mich.e.l.le nodded, wiped her eyes. "I think you're a really good therapist."

I'm not so sure anymore. "I'm not your therapist," Danica said with a smile.

"Yeah, I know. I'm just sayin'."

Chapter Twenty-Four.

Blake spent Sunday at AcroSki, weeding through the mounds of files that Dave had kept track of and trying to figure out what had gone wrong with Danica. He'd thought she would fall into his arms, given the chance. All the signals were there. He'd never felt about any other woman the way he felt about her, and he was sure he read the same message in her eyes. Could he have been that wrong? Had he lost his touch? d.a.m.n it. He didn't want to think that way anymore. It wasn't about his touch. It was about who he was. She liked him-that was pretty clear-and he liked her. But she wasn't like any other woman. Danica was smart, savvy, and she'd sooner disappear than tie herself up with a guy who played around-a guy like him. d.a.m.n it, Danica! She'd f.u.c.ked with his mind and now with his body. Ever since that kiss-that hot, sensual kiss-just thinking about her brought an erection. But he also needed her. Desperately.

When the usual time for his appointment came around, he'd sat and stared at the phone, paralyzed. He fought the urge to call her and apologize. What would he say to her? I'm sorry I made out with you? I overstepped my bounds? I want you? Any way he looked at it, he'd crossed a line, and she was too professional to let that slide. She would never forgive him. First, he elbowed her; then, he kissed her. What the h.e.l.l was wrong with him? He'd never felt so conflicted about, and drawn to, a woman at the same time. s.h.i.t. How would he figure out how to handle things with Sally? How could he spend time with Rusty if all he thought about when they were together was that other woman and her son, who had also lost Dave? s.h.i.t. He should have kept his lips to himself. He really f.u.c.ked up.

Alyssa peeked into the office. "I'm leaving. Are you okay to close up?"

"Yeah, sure. Thanks for your help," he said.

"Oh, there was some red-haired lady looking for you earlier, but since you said you couldn't be disturbed, I told her that you weren't here."

"Great, thanks." That's all I would have needed. Blake realized, as he pondered Red, that more than needing Danica's advice, he missed talking to her. He could have s.e.x with any woman. He wanted more than that with Danica.

"She told me to give you this." She handed him a business card. "It smells like perfume. I think she likes you." She smiled.

Blake took the card and set it on the desk. "Good night, Alyssa," he said.

"See you tomorrow afternoon." Blake was thankful she'd taken on extra hours until he could hire another employee. She closed the door, leaving him alone with his thoughts, a stack of bills, and Red's phone number.

He picked up the card and brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply. He brought his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. He reached for the phone.

Sally opened the door with a curious look in her eyes. "Blake?"

"Thanks for letting me come over. I really needed to talk to you."

She motioned for him to come in. He followed her to the living room, noting that she didn't look quite as tired as she had the last time they'd spoken. "Can I get you something? You sounded so serious on the phone."

"No, I'm fine." He sat down in an upholstered armchair. He looked toward the stairs. "Is Rusty here?"

Sally shook her head, her ponytail swinging from side to side. "He's out with friends. Listen, if this is about me asking you to spend time with him, I'll understand if you've decided not to."

"That's not it at all. I just...I went to Dave's grave the other day."

Sally c.o.c.ked her head and drew her nearly transparent eyebrows together.

"I ran into that other woman there. I don't even know her name."

"Trisha," she said, crossing her arms.

You know her name? "Trisha. Okay. I don't know what to say, Sally. I mean, my loyalty is to Dave, but it's also to you and Rusty. I just thought you should know what she told me."

"Blake, listen, you can stop right there."

"But I want you to know. You need to know."

"I already do. She just left a few hours ago. She told me about Chase and about Dave trying to get to know him." Tears filled her eyes. "She said they weren't sleeping together."

"Oh, thank G.o.d. That's what she told me, too." Blake felt like his body had been released from invisible shackles. "I was so afraid to tell you."

"She called me and asked if we could talk. I figured it was time to face her, you know? Let her know how I felt about her barging into our lives like she had. But when she came over...She's just this little thing, and she was so scared." She let out a nervous laugh. "I think she was more scared than I was. Anyway, she told me everything, and she said that Dave had been planning to tell me, and I believed her." She let out a relieved sigh. "He did. Actually, he tried once, but I didn't want to hear it. I never let him get far enough to tell me about Chase. I just thought he was spending time with her."

"So, you're okay with it all?" Blake knew then that he would never really understand women.

"No. Dave should have told me from the moment he knew, or I should have listened, but I can't change that. The Dave I knew would have done the right thing with regard to the child. I'm glad he did, but I was honest with her. I told her how hurt I was that he'd lied to me and that he'd given her the time that we, as a family, deserved."

Blake ran his hand through his hair as car headlights shone through the front window. Outside, a car skidded to a stop and a car door slammed. "Are you expecting someone?"

She shook her head. "Rusty shouldn't be home for hours yet."

"How'd she take it?"

"She cried. We cried. It's not easy for anyo-"

Rusty came flying through the front door, slamming it behind him. "Mom!" He blew into the living room, red-faced and full of rage. "There you are. And you! Thank G.o.d you're f.u.c.king here, too."

Blake stood. "Whoa, Rusty." He held his palms up. "Calm down, bud."

"Don't tell me to calm down."

"Rusty Michael, what is wrong with you?" Sally came to her feet, speaking in her sternest, motherly voice. "You don't speak to adults like that."

"No, well, when you hear what I'm about to tell you, you'll be p.i.s.sed, too. This mother f.u.c.ker," he said, pointing at Blake, "knew about Dad and that other woman." He turned back toward his mother, nostrils flaring, tears of rage filling his eyes. "That's right. Dad was f.u.c.king some other woman, Mom, and that's not all. He has a kid. A f.u.c.king kid. Older than me!"

"How did you find out?" Sally's voice trembled.

"My friend Kevin knows a kid who met him."

"Rusty." Blake moved toward him, and Rusty swung at him. Blake grabbed his fist midair. "Whoa! Holy s.h.i.t, Rusty. Cut it out." He pushed Rusty into a chair, still grasping his fist within his own large hand. "Calm down." He didn't mean to raise his voice, but he couldn't stop himself. He looked at Sally, whose face was streaked with tears; her body trembled as she watched her son fall apart.

"Mom!" Rusty yelled.

Sally came to his side and knelt by the chair. "I know," she said in a soothing voice. "Your father didn't have a mistress, but he did have a child, and the woman you're talking about is the child's mother."

"You knew?" Rusty looked from Blake to Sally and then back again. "What lies did you tell her?" He pushed himself up from the chair, but Blake held him in his seat so he would be forced to listen.

"No. I just found out, and I didn't tell your mother anything. The boy's mother did."

"Jesus f.u.c.king Christ, Mom. What the f.u.c.k? This is a f.u.c.king nightmare." He slumped into the chair, and Blake let go of him, then paced the small room.

Sally shook as she spoke through her tears. "I know, Rusty. I thought he was having an affair, too, but he wasn't. This is a lot to take in."

"A lot to take in? How about this is rewriting f.u.c.king history and it sucks!" Rusty yelled.

"Yes, okay, it sucks," she admitted. "But he was your father and he loved you."

"Loved me? The f.u.c.k he did. He never spent time with me. He was going to her house when I went to practice."

Sally sprang to her feet, her eyes wide with anger. "While you were at practice, Rusty? Really? Do you think I buy that?"

Rusty shot a look at Blake.

"Don't blame him. I knew it when Dad was alive. Your coach called me ages ago. Rusty, your dad let you have your time with your friends-who, I might remind you, you had decided were more important than your family. It was your choice to drop from the team. It was your choice to hang out with your friends and not with us, and I get it, okay? But don't villainize your father any more than he deserves." She wiped her eyes and continued. "Yes, he was spending time at her house with that kid. Yes, he was lying to us about it, but she said that-"