It’s been twenty years since I lost my family. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of them and hate my birth father with the intensity of ten thousand suns. Even calling him a birth father is more credit than I’d like to give him, but unfortunately, you can’t change biology.

My father, my real dad in every way, is Owen Weston. He’s Aunt Karen’s husband and the best man I know. Without a second thought, he welcomed me—a psychologically damaged and physically wounded child—into his home with open arms and a heart full of love. It never mattered to them how difficult I was or how depressed I got, they loved me, and they still love me with every fiber of their being. In the blink of an eye, my aunt and uncle became my parents, and my cousins—Diane, Noah, Sawyer, and Rory—became my brothers and sisters.

It helped that I wasn’t the only flawed child; my cousin Sawyer was just as fucked up as I was. Still is, actually. That’s what happens when you walk into a house where an entire family has been killed and you save the sole survivor. Without Sawyer’s sheer determination and bravery that day, I’d be dead. As much as I wish he’d never have gone through what he did, I’m glad his efforts weren’t a total waste. I spent a lot of days wishing I’d died too, but I spent even more time being thankful Sawyer had saved me. I can’t imagine how it would have affected him if we’d all passed and even though we don’t talk about it much anymore, we both know we have each other to talk to, if the need arises. Sawyer and I were only seven years old the day our lives changed forever—the day my birth father killed his family before taking his own life.

Today, I’m sitting with my family as we mourn the loss of another one of our tribe who has been taken too soon. Hoping to numb the pain, I’ve allowed myself a double dose of my anti-anxiety medication. I’ve never been able to master the art of coping, but hey, no one is perfect. With silent tears streaming down my cheeks, I sit in the corner of the private VIP suite at the hospital and try to absorb what just happened.

While the accident is at the forefront of my mind, there’s a dark shadow hovering closely behind it—the shattered look on Allie’s face when I asked her to take care of my cat and Ty and Sasha’s outrage when I said they couldn’t come either. There are a dozen reasons I couldn’t let them come, but the top two are the only ones that matter. My family is famous, and discretion is key, especially since this has now become a high-level press frenzy. It’s just not the time to let my personal shit mix with my family life. If they’d have come, that’s exactly what would have happened. Besides, whether they realize it or not, they are where I need them the most—running my bar. Without them, I’d have to have shut down completely, and I can’t afford the lost revenue.

At times like this, I miss my real mom. More than anything, I miss her hugs and her comforting words. Thank God for Aunt Karen, my other mom—she’s a close second. Right now, though, when her world is falling apart around her, I’d feel guilty as fuck if I tried to lean on her.

There was an accident on my brothers’ tour tonight. They’re in a band with their two best friends. Not just any band though. The four of them make up Bastards and Dangerous, the biggest rock band in the world. They only have two months left on their tour before retiring and leaving the music world on their terms: while they’re still topping the charts. Instead of being able to enjoy retirement, they’re mourning one of their own—we all are. Once again, life reminds me she’s a wicked bitch and it’s never safe to get close to anyone. My brother Noah would disagree, he’d say it’s fate. If that’s the case, fate is nothing more than life’s evil sister.

I lean back in my seat and close my eyes, trying to remember a happier time while my meds do their thing. It’s not like I don’t hear everyone around me crying and whispering, but sadness is part of my daily existence. If I let myself drown in it once again, I might never find the strength to pull myself out of it.