“Yes. My mother made decisions that she thought were best for me, and I don’t think they were. You know about Cliff Whitman. You know I’m his daughter.” What was the point in holding back when Eden had probably already read it all online? “I always knew my dad wasn’t my biological dad. My mother was straight about that. But whenever I asked for more details she just said it didn’t matter, that it had meant nothing, just a wild moment on her part. But she’d never give me a name, which seemed odd to me because why not?” She was surprised by how much it all still hurt. “She thought it was best if I didn’t know. And maybe she was right, but I don’t think so.”

“So if she didn’t tell you, how did you find out?”

“She got sick. Money was tight...” Her stomach knotted. Money was almost nonexistent and that was something she still had to think about. But not yet. She couldn’t do it yet. “She contacted Cliff again to try and make him take responsibility, although I don’t know why she thought he would.”

Eden made a derisive sound. “If he hadn’t done it at the beginning, why do it at the end?”

“Right. She was desperate. And he didn’t want to know, of course. And that was when she told me. Just before she died—” She broke off and felt Eden’s hand on her arm.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. I’m sorry you’re going through this now. It’s total shit.”

“Yeah.” Her throat was clogged and for a horrible moment she thought she was going to cry in front of this girl she didn’t even know, but then the tide of grief receded and she could breathe again. “I was pretty messed up.”

“Of course. Anyone would be.”

“And I was angry.” Ashley breathed. “And confused. When she told me, I shouted at her.” It killed her to remember it. “I actually shouted.”

“My mom and I shout. It’s a pretty normal thing, and you had reason to be upset.” Eden paused. “Also, you were probably scared that she was so sick. That would make anyone shout.”

She hadn’t thought of it like that. “I was scared. Terrified. I wanted to know why she hadn’t told me before, and she was crying and sobbing that she’d done what she thought was best, and I felt so bad I just said, Forget it, let’s forget it, it doesn’t matter.”

“But it did matter,” the other girl said quietly. “And you couldn’t forget it. That’s why you went to LA?”