JACK: Las Vegas Bad Boys(53)

Sitting up straighter and taking off the blanket covering me, I shrug. “I guess I always knew something wasn’t right with my parents—well, with the people who took me. My mom wasn’t stable. And my dad never treated me as his own.”

The doctor nods solemnly. “The police will be here soon. This is a huge development in a case that has been closed for fifteen years. You will need to prepare yourself to testify.”

“No.” I shake my head, standing. “I just want to see my family. I don’t want to see the police.”

“Surely you’ll need to press charges, to hold those people liable. This isn’t an if you want to situation; this is a huge case that will send your kidnappers to prison.”

“I just want to be left alone. Please.” I close my eyes, not wanting anything to ruin what should be a perfect reunion  . The police will ask questions I can’t answer, questions about where my mother is right now.

I don’t want to tell them that I shot her, that she is buried because of me.

Even if they catch my so-called dad and imprison him, they’ll never sentence the rest of the Brotherhood. And I know how many men would be looking at me for retribution.

I can’t lose everything, not now. Not when I am on the cusp of gaining all I’ve ever dreamed of having.

“I’m only a doctor,” Markus says, “but I suggest getting an attorney as quickly as possible—not only for the charges against your kidnappers, but also for possible restraining orders.”

“Oh, I’m not in touch with my kidnappers. I left home a few years ago.”

“I see. Well, you need to be safe, and once they find out that you’ve reunited with your birth family, things will be complicated.”

“Do they know? The McQueens?”

“They do. Would you like me to send them in?”

“No, I’ll go to them. I want out of the hospital.”

“A hospital counselor is on site and can lead you though this reunion  . You can all gather in a private room.”

I bite my lip, not sure where or how would be the best place. “Are they just right outside this room? Waiting?”

“They are.”

“Then just have them come in here. I can’t wait another moment. And tell Jack to come in, too.”

Doctor Markus nods solemnly. “I’ll let them know you’re ready.”

He steps outside, and I straighten my hair with my hands, trying to remember to breathe.

Trying to hold tight to this moment, the one where my entire life changes.

The door opens, and in comes Teri and Jeb, Ryan McQueen, and Jack. They walk to me, arms outstretched, as if they can’t reach me fast enough.

I thought I could hold myself together, be strong, but tears fall to my cheeks. As Teri, Jeb, and Ryan wrap me in their embrace, I remember something Emmy told me a few months ago when she was shattered over her sister Janie’s death, when she cried with transparency, not trying to hide one thing about her feelings.

She told me tears don’t make you weak. She said that tears reveal your complete abandon of what should or should not be. Tears shed are truth.

And my truth is this: I am not alone. Not even a little. Not even at all.

“Rachel,” Teri sobs, her face pressed against my hair. “My darling girl.”

Jeb holds us together, whispering over and over, “You’re alive. You’re alive. My daughter is alive.”

I don’t know what agony or heartache they’ve experienced over the past eighteen years, but I know the gaping hole that has always been in my heart—the hole only they can fill.

When we step back, and widen our circle to look at one another’s faces, really look, Ryan’s face fills with sorrow. “All this time, Tess, you’ve been my sister. How could I not have known?”

I crumble as he pulls me into another hug. I let my big brother wrap his arms around me and squeeze tight.

“Do you think we look alike?” I ask, never considering our likeness. But I can see it now, so clearly. “I dye my hair.” I say through teary laughs. “But we have the same teeth, don’t we. The same smile?”

“You have the same ears,” Teri says, tucking my hair back. “Same as your older brother, too.”

“Where does he live?” I ask.

“In Kansas City. Near us.”

“That’s where I’m from?” I ask, my chin quivering. I think of the horrible compound, the way my dead mother would tell me I was hers and hers alone, and that no one would ever take me from her. She was so possessive, and it was because our bond was a lie. She was scared I would remember.

“Who raised you?” Jeb asks.