The hallway is bustling like usual with nurses and doctors walking with their heads straightforward as if they are on a mission. I hit the button to take the elevator down to the cafeteria, cross my arms over my chest, and stew over what Katch asked me to do.

“I’m eating first,” I mutter to myself, step inside and watch my reflection when the steel doors close. I look happy, in spite of thinking about clearing things up with my mother.

I pay for a bagel and cream cheese with a large coffee, find a table in the far corner, and stretch my legs in front of me when I sit down.

Even though Katch’s room feels like it’s shrinking in on me each day and we both are about to go batshit crazy, it seems to dull my racing mind. In moments like these, when I’m away from him, my worries take over, controlling my breathing, nerves, and anxiety. They flow into overdrive. The more I fight back, the worse it gets.

“Mind if I join you?”

I look up to see Doctor Hot Pants staring down at me with his whiskey-colored eyes and messy black hair. Looks like he hasn’t seen a bed in a few days. There’s stubble on his jaw and the forming of black lines under his eyes.

“Not much company here, but knock yourself out.” I finish spreading the cream cheese on my bagel. Then I take a bite.

“Just what I need.” He settles across from me and begins devouring his food.

“I hear you’re quite the entertainment fixture with the nurses.”

He nods, chuckles, and his next words are brash at best. “Yeah, I’m tired, and so is my dick.”

I nearly choke on a bite of the bagel. It’s not the way a doctor would talk to a loved one of one of his patients, but then again, he probably doesn’t make up fake names for many. Watching him eat, I notice the resemblance between him and Brick. It’s barely there, just enough to tell they’re related.

Where Brick is rugged and raw, this man is refined, educated, and gorgeous. Zeke more than likely runs a few miles daily on a treadmill to keep his fit physique, whereas Brick is all about manual labor and his brothers.

The tie must be strong, since the men survive in two completely different worlds yet protect each other. That phenomenal bond has my stomach flipping in anxiety. I’ll never know what that feels like to bond with a sibling. If I were a woman cut out to be a mother, I would definitely have more than one child. On the other hand, my children would be loved unconditionally by both parents. He or she wouldn’t be lonely. Confined and living in a world of self-hatred.

Zeke’s fork clatters to his tray, making me jump and lose focus on a topic my mind shouldn’t be thinking about anyway. “A lot on your mind?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t know me well, but I can tell you that you’re good people.” He props up his elbows on the table, not breaking eye contact. “I’ve heard bits and pieces of the shit that’s gone down. It’s fucked up.”

I shrug. “Seems fucked up is my middle name these days.”

“We all have our demons that keep us up at night.”

“So, you’re a fucking head shrink, too?”

He chuckles. “Nah, just not wanting to deal with the own shit in my life. Easier to try and fix others.”

“I get it. You are a doctor.”

His face falls, growing sad. “Some pretty fucked-up shit came into the ER tonight. Sorry, focusing on you is easier.”

“And dropping the F-bomb and being unprofessional is probably a good outlet, too.” I smile at him.

“Yeah.” He shudders.

I can’t even begin to imagine what has him twisted in knots. The man was elbow-deep in blood, saving Katch on his kitchen floor a few weeks ago without flinching. So whatever has him recoiling must be pretty deep.

“Thanks for the seat.” He rises when he’s paged over the hospital intercom system. “Let me know if you ever need anything, Nadine.” He winks and disappears down the long hallway, and even though the man is strong, his gait full of a stature of respect, something has him rattled.

“Caitlin.” I look over to see my mother and Trent walking toward me side by side. God, this is the best I’ve seen her look. “May I?” she asks.

“Sure.” I sit up in my chair, knowing the time has come.

“I’ll be over there.” Trent points to the other side of the room

“No. I’d appreciate if you stayed. It’s time to get the air cleared,” I politely say.

He sits without speaking a word. I’d always thought I was a miniature version of my mother growing up. Her beauty was mine. Her grace flowed through me until the day she was ripped from me, but staring at Trent now, I am more his daughter than hers.

Our eyes are mirrors of each other's, his nose mine, and our dark, wavy hair the same.

“I understand everything that happened…” my mother tries to speak, but I cut her off instantly.

“It’s my turn to talk. You can listen or leave.” It hurts being this harsh with her, but the copious amounts of pain my heart has and still is processing are undeniable. I refuse to keep breaking down and letting the tears attack when I have a bright future ahead of me.

“I’m hurting. I’m not sure anyone can even begin to understand the pain unless they’ve been lied to their entire life. I’m not even addressing the life I was pushed into because the choice was made to lie. It doesn’t matter the wrongs and crimes committed in that life weren’t mine. It’s what I was made to believe was me. My genetics, blood, heart, and soul, all of it, dedicated to the Winslow last name, but it was all a lie.”

I pause a beat to keep the tears back. This needs to be spoken, and I refuse to let emotions take over.

“I love you, Mom. I’ll never stop loving you. You’re my mother, and there were times in my life when I needed you so bad I didn’t know how I would make it through the day. But then I would hear your voice; you would tell me to get up, to put one foot in front of the other, and together we could tackle whatever obstacle had brought me down. I look at you right now and still can’t believe that after everything you have been through, you survived. I know there’re more things those men said and did to you than you are willing to share. I survived my hell because of you. I need you in my life forever.” I pause to take a deep breath through my nose. They are both sitting there quietly, attentive, and for the first time in my life, I have both of my parents listening to me. No judgment is striking back at me. No harsh words are telling me to pull my shit together. That weakness isn’t something a Winslow shows in public. They are simply taking everything I say to heart. “Trent, I’d like to get to know you as well. With all of that being said, I still need time to digest everything. My skin crawls, and the anxiety threatens to wreck me daily with the thought of knowing I wasn’t his real daughter. Parts of me are grateful those invisible bonds have been broken, while others remain sick and twisted knowing all the years that were stolen from me, from you, from us. It leaves me with a choice to make. Do I roll back into the cutthroat attorney, move back to L.A., and pretend this was all a dream, or do I embrace my new life? If you have to ask which I’m choosing, then neither of you deserve a place in my life.”

What I wanted to say didn’t come out the way I’d rehearsed over and over in my head. The important thing is that it’s out there. I don’t want my mom to think I hate her for the choice she made. Who’s to say I wouldn’t have done the same thing? I know better than anyone how Clarence Winslow makes good on his threats.

I take a deep breath; the urge to get back to Katch, to have him hold me and tell me in his crazy way that he’s proud of me for finally talking to her is all I want right now.

My mother is up on her feet before I can excuse myself. Her arms wrap around my neck, and she sobs. Her apple-scent is comforting. I bring my arms around her, bury my face in her neck, and cry right along with her. It’s all going to be okay. I’ll get past this and so will she.

She doesn’t attempt to apologize or let the word ‘sorry’ slip from her lips over and over again. My mother simply holds me. Her strength is freeing me from the bonds of lies and deceit. Our futures are finally brimming on the horizon, and it will be our choice what we do with it.

The anxiety slowly drains from me as well with the fucked-up head games that have held me hostage for years. It feels good. Damn good. My mother finally steps back, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Caitlin, I want to tell you something I should have told you years ago. This is your dad, Trent Welsh.” She giggles through the tears still streaming down her face.

I can’t help but smile at this brave soul in front of me. She’s the happiest and healthiest I’ve seen her yet.

There are well-defined steps in the grieving and loss process. Each carved out with specific steps where a gamut of emotions is experienced. There is not one word in the English language to name the shit I’ve gone through since hitchhiking on that lonely highway and the number of steps uncountable. I do know I must be in the hysterical stage at this point.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Trent,” I finally speak up.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he says with a small upward curve on his lips.

An awkward silence surrounds us, all of us with worn-down faces, hearts raw and right there on the edge of our sleeve. I need to break the air. To have them smiling when I get up to leave.

“Mom, I want to thank you for letting him stick his dick in you without a condom.” The thought of them having sex is gone before I allow myself to think about it. At least my mom is smiling.

We all erupt in laughter, the awkward tension dissipating immediately. It’s a baby step in the direction of forming a relationship with my parents. The first laugh shared between a family. The stepping stone to building a lifetime of memories.

“Caitlin.” Trent steps up to me. “I think this is where we hug.”

A smartass. I already like the guy. Trent wraps his arms around me, holding me in a soul-crushing embrace. Clarence never hugged me or showed any sort of paternal caring and emotion toward me. This simple hug means more to me than I can say. It wipes away all the self-doubt of being a little girl who should be able to look up to her dad and feel wanted, protected, and loved. He doesn’t let go for the longest time. We become a family in a matter of seconds.

“Thank you for saving my life,” I whisper into his ear.

“I tried to get to you for years. Vowed never to give up, Caitlin. My biggest regret will always be not getting to you sooner.”

I pull back gently, but not enough to break our connection. “You saved more than my life. You saved the man I love, you saved my mother, and I hope in some way you saved yourself.”

“We have a very wise daughter, Louisa.” He briefly looks her way. “I’ll always be here for you, Caitlin. Always. And the same goes for your mother. A man doesn’t devote half of his life getting the loves of his life back to let them go.”

“Thank you…” I pause, not knowing what to call him.

He senses my stress, leans in, and kisses my forehead. “Take your time. You can call me Trent.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just the words ‘dad’ and ‘father’ have had such a negative impact in my life. I don’t want to taint this with that.”

“I get it. Call me Trent, asshole, whatever you need to; as long as I’m in your life, it doesn't matter.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper.

“Neither are we, sweet girl.” My mom lifts her hand and cups the side of my face.

“Let’s get you back to that man of yours,” she says, reaches down, and takes hold of my hand while Trent picks up my tray and places it on top of a bin.

The three of us make our way back to Katch’s room with unspoken promises of a brighter today and a better tomorrow.

When the elevator opens to allow a few people on, on the floor where the ER is located, I catch a glimpse of Zeke barking orders over a bed with a battered woman on it. The doors close all too quickly, taking away the horrific scene.

Trent clutches my hand. My heart sinks for the family and loved ones of the woman lying there. I was in that same position not too long ago. I didn’t know if I was going to be able to breathe again or if I even wanted to. I send up a silent prayer for her loved ones, because no one deserves that amount of suffering.

I’m unsure if the guys are all still in the room, so I lightly knock. The door swings open with Curtis standing there. He shuts the door and draws me and then my mother in for a hug. He shakes Trent’s hand, which shocks me. It’s a huge sign of respect between the two men. Not an easy feat when it comes to Curtis.

“I believe this belongs to you, Aunt Louisa.” We all look down to where Curtis is holding on to the mysterious envelope. I had all but forgotten about this. Until now. I glance over to my mom, who takes it with shaky fingers and clutches it to her chest.

“Thank you, Curtis.” She smiles.

“You alright, cuz?”

“Couldn’t be better,” I say truthfully.

“That’s my girl. You may want to get in there. He’s grumpy as fuck.” He kisses my cheek, then steps back inside and leaves the door ajar.

“This is for you.” My mom stops me right before I push open the door. I’m not sure if I want to read the contents anymore.

“It’s a letter from me, Caitlin. The first letter I wrote to my daughter. Take it. It’s yours.” I close my eyes at the sound of Trent’s voice. With shaky, sweaty palms, I grab hold of the well-worn envelope, the writing smudged, yet as clear to me as the day is bright.

My name.