Alana ran into the hospital, her hair a mess, her clothes wrinkled from travel as she pulled her suitcase behind her. She’d caught the first flight out of Richmond the morning after the phone call, and spent an hour and a half at the Chicago airport before flying into Colorado Springs.

She hadn’t spoken to her mother yet. The only information came from Patty, and that news wasn’t entirely forthcoming. There had been a problem on the tractor. A fall. Alana wasn’t clear on details, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of her mother’s need to build guilt and drama, or Patty’s annoyance that Alana hadn’t returned home.

All she knew for sure was the injuries weren’t life threatening. The main concern was her mother’s anxiety over being confined to a bed and vulnerable to the male hospital staff.

“I’m here to see my mother.” She leaned over the chest-high reception desk and gave a half-hearted smile to the lady on the other side. “Susan Shelton.”

A lifetime passed before she was given a room number and directions to the elevators. That’s when the need to hurry became less cloying. She began to drag her feet as she walked down the hall. She was preparing to mourn, to look over the slain body that was their relationship and fight to find any salvageable memories in the carnage.

The last time she spoke to her mother was the day the Bowens entered her life. Dialing the number had been impossible ever since. She hadn’t been ready to face the truth. And she refused to answer any calls that came from Colorado—from Patty, her mother, or any one of the numerous women who called the retreat their home.

Now she had no choice.

The open door to her mother’s room loomed in front of her. Devastation was inevitable once she passed the threshold. Tears and harsh truths too. They were different people now. At least Alana was. And it was funny, but the few days spent with Mitchell had strengthened her. She truly felt like a woman now. Not only sexually. She had a sense of ownership on the adult world. She was strong. Stronger than ever before. But maybe not strong enough to say goodbye to her mother forever.

She inched closer, seeing the bed, the feet covered in blankets, the legs, the chest. Then finally the familiar face. Her feet rooted in place as she stared at the woman who had given her life, given her love, yet given her enough heartache to carry into the afterlife.

“Alana.”

Her heart stopped as their gazes collided.

She loved this woman, loved her so much that the betrayal hurt ten times more. “Hi, Mom.” She stepped past the threshold and placed her suitcase inside the door. “How are you?”

“Much better now that you’re here.”

Alana released a sardonic laugh. She wanted to voice an assurance that the comforting sensation was only temporary. They had a lot to discuss, and none of it would be pretty.

“What happened?”

“I fell off the tractor.” Her mom looked down at the sling that partially hid her arm in plaster. “It was stupid, really. I wasn’t concentrating and received a broken ulna and three fractured ribs for my trouble.”

“I guess you’re lucky, then.” Alana pulled a plastic chair from the side of the room and placed it beside the bed. “I didn’t know what to expect. Patty didn’t give me a lot of information over the phone.”

“We were all a bit frazzled at the time. She did well to get me in the car and drive me here when I would’ve much preferred to call my normal doctor and have her look over me.” Her mother shuffled uncomfortably. “I don’t like the doctors here, Alana. They’re men.”

“A lot of doctors are male, Mom.”

“They sedate me for no reason.”

“No reason?” Alana raised a brow. “Patty told me you’ve been hostile to the male staff.”

“It’s anxiety. Mild anxiety. It certainly wasn’t enough to warrant them knocking me out. Who knows what they’re doing to me in my sleep?”

Alana sighed and stared out the window. This would be her existence if she stayed in Monument. She would forever be placating her mother’s paranoia. Whenever the retreat received women with new stories of horror and sadness, Susan Shelton would give herself reason not to let go of her own pain.

It would be a continuous cycle unless help was sought.

“I’m sure they’re not doing anything untoward.”

“I wish I had your confidence.”

It wasn’t confidence. It was a lack of care. She had no more left to give. Any empathy had dissolved when the truth came to light. Yes, she should be more concerned with her mother’s health. She should be making plans with Patty and ensuring the retreat was in working order, but all she wanted to do was release the pressure of a thousand questions from her chest.

“When was the last time they sedated you?” She turned back to the bed and focused on the coverings, unable to make eye contact.

“Last night.”

“I’m sure it was given to help you rest.” Alana wouldn’t be surprised if it was due to physical assault against the staff. The verbal would’ve been bad enough. “How about painkillers? Are they giving you meds to make you more comfortable?”

“Not anything that will make me drowsy, I made sure of that.” Her mom smiled, her eyes bright with the misguided warmth that showed she thought Alana cared. “Trust me, the injuries aren’t all that serious.”

“Are you sure?” She was shamed to be asking for reasons other than concern, but not enough to quit her train of thought. If it weren’t for the accident, Alana wouldn’t be here. They would still be estranged. There had been no plans in her near future to travel to Monument. There hadn’t even been a thought to call her mother and mend the broken bridge sitting between them.

“There’s no need for the inquisition, sweetheart. I’m fine.”

Sweetheart.

Her heart clenched. Mitchell had been the last person to call her that, and the endearment sounded so much sweeter on his lips. She still missed him, still thought of him every night before she fell asleep.

“Actually, there is.” Alana opened her handbag and pulled out the bottle she’d purchased at the airport. “Tequila or coffee?”

A deep frown stared back at her. “You know I don’t drink.”

“For the conversation we’re about to have, you might want to start.”

Silence.

Alana calmly placed her bag on the floor, nestled the liquor in her lap and stared at her mother without expression. “Would you like to start, or will I?”

Her mother shook her head. “No.” She winced and repositioned herself on the bed. “Not here. Not today.” She glanced behind her, at the alarm for the nurse’s station. “I know what you want to discuss, and I’m too tired to do it now.”

Too tired, and apparently willing to contemplate calling a male nurse to get out of it.

“Maybe exhaustion will help to ease the truth out of you.” She smiled, hiding her pain. It was hard enough to accept the lies. It was worse to witness the reluctance to give an apology, or even an explanation.

Her mother continued to shake her head. “Can’t you see I’m in pain?”

Alana’s face fell. Her perspective had changed in a few short days. Her whole life too. There was a selfishness in their relationship she’d never noticed before. It had always been there, looming. She’d just never noticed it because the woman who raised her always liked to back up the narcissism with something that required pity.

“Can’t you see I’m in pain?” she whispered back.

The room fell silent. Footsteps echoed from the hall, buzzers beeped, patients called out, and through it all, her mother lay there, stubborn.

“I guess I’ll grab my belongings from the retreat and be on my way.” It wasn’t a threat. It was a conviction. There was no way she could return to the place she’d grown up. Not permanently. She’d anticipated being able to help her mother recover while she packed her life into boxes and arranged to move her belongings to Richmond. But she couldn’t offer to help without receiving information in return.

The woman who turned fact into fiction had to give her something.

Anything.

“Alana, be reasonable.”

That was it? That was all she could say?

“Stop chastising me with my name.” God damn it. She grabbed her handbag off the floor and pushed to her feet. “There is no blame on these shoulders. I’m free. My heart may be broken from the lies you fed me, but I’ll walk from this room with my head high. There’s no way you can do the same.”

She strode for the door, calm and in control. She already had days to lament how this discussion would conclude. She was far from shocked by the outcome. Merely numbed.

It was time to move on.

To live her own life.

To smile on her own terms.

“Wait.”

Alana paused in the doorway.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to keep the truth from you forever. That’s just the way it turned out.” Regret hung heavy in her mother’s voice. “Please, Alana, try to understand my perspective.”

She swung around. “I’ve tried doing that since I met the Bowens. I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would take to make the decisions you did. I understand it would be hard. That you were protecting me from pain. But then I met my father.”

Her mother’s lips parted.

“Yes, Mom. Imagine my surprise when I stared into the eyes of a man I thought was dead. Eyes that were exactly the same as mine.”

A lone tear blazed a trail down her mother’s cheek, followed by another and another.

“Don’t cry,” Alana grated. “You don’t deserve to shed tears over this. Not anymore. You had twenty-seven years to prepare me for that moment, and yet I was alone. I had no one.”

No one but Mitchell.

Her mother nodded, finally acquiescing. “I’m sorry.” She began to sob. “I’m so sorry.”

An invisible force pushed at Alana’s back, demanding she provide comfort. Instead, she squared her shoulders and ignored it. She stood there and watched her mother wipe tears on the sling holding up her arm. Not once did she offer support.

“I’ve never known how to make this right.” The sobs came louder. “I don’t know how to move on.”

“You’ll learn.” Alana sucked in a deep breath. “You’ll learn, or I’ll never come back to the retreat again. You need help, Mom, and unless you get it, I don’t think I can be a part of your life.”

“You don’t know what it’s like. You don’t know what I’ve been through.”

“No.” Alana gave a sad smile and shook her head. “I have no idea. I only know what it’s like to experience what you put me through. To live in seclusion for my entire life. To be sheltered, not just from men, but from love—”

“You were always surrounded by women who loved you.”

She inclined her head. “Yes. But I never knew what it was like to experience love or heartache. I never had anyone to call my own. Not a father, or grandparents. I only had you, and what you gave me were lies.”

“I gave you everything I had.”

“No, you didn’t. The truth would’ve cost you nothing.”

Her mother sniffed. “You don’t understand—”

“Make me understand.” Her voice rose. She couldn’t help it. No matter how loud she became, it seemed like she wasn’t being heard. “Explain why you lied to me my whole life.”

“The truth was too hard for me to face.” A long sigh filled the room. “I know I’m not normal, Alana, but the world I created made me feel safe. I wasn’t scared in the life we shared together.”

“The world you created wasn’t real, Mom, can’t you see that?”

“I do now.”

Why wasn’t that enough? There was no relief from the pain. No understanding. “Like I said, you need to get help.”

They’d only scratched the surface on what they needed to discuss. There were years and years of lies to be cleared. But nothing else would be uncovered today. Her mother was searching for pity, and she needed time to understand she would no longer get it from her daughter.

“I hope you recover quickly.” She turned and focused down the hall. “I’ll be waiting for you at home once you’re discharged.”

“No. Alana. Don’t go.”

She glanced over her shoulder, unsure what to say.

Her mother’s reluctance to see her go inspired a brief flutter of relief. She didn’t want to be the only one fighting for them to make things right. She’d lost that battle with Mitchell. She didn’t want to acknowledge the same defeat with a woman she would love despite her flaws.

“Don’t leave me.” Her mom reached out her able arm. “I hyperventilate whenever the male nurse comes to check on me. They’ll arrange for me to be sedated again. I need you to tell them I can go home.”

Anger stole Alana’s relief. She didn’t want to acknowledge defeat, but neither would she allow herself to be a doormat.

“You need to face your fears, Mom.” She sneered at the guilt banging at her chest. She wasn’t going to let it in. Not today. Not ever. She grabbed the handle of her suitcase and started for the door. “Now is a great time to start.”