Addison

Addison blinked once. Twice. Three times. Sylvia’s sipping room came back into focus. Her vision swam. The taste of the bourbon was still heavy on her tongue. She’d seen… What had she seen?

Kaden Bonner. Her mother.

Together.

Younger than she was now.

The weight of that moment settled into her. As far as anyone could remember, her mother had no history with Kaden other than what had started growing between them over the past few days, but Sylvia had told her the date on the bottle before she poured their glasses. If her mom had slept with Kaden that summer, then as far as Addison knew… there was a very good chance that Kaden Bonner was her father.

She sucked in a breath at the revelation, her teeth cold and her fingertips numb. She braced herself with a hand on the armrest as the glass of bourbon slipped from her grip and crashed to the floor.

She winced, the sound forcing her back to the present.

“Kaden…” Sylvia whispered.

Addison glanced up, her dark eyes meeting Sylvia’s. She took in the lines in the older woman’s cheeks. The sharp nose, so different from the Haywood button nose, but so much like Addison’s.

How had she not recognized herself in this woman before?

Addison was a Bonner.

“You saw it, too?” The words almost stuck in her throat.

Sylvia looked at the bourbon in her trembling hand. She set it down on the table carefully, then pushed herself up from her chair, sidestepping the shattered glass. She took Addison’s hand in hers. Though her skin was thin and spotted with age, her fingers were strong and long and lean. She pressed them to Addison’s hands—tip to tip—and a small cry escaped Addison’s throat.

“How?” Addison managed through tears she didn’t realize she was shedding.

“The memories must’ve gotten trapped in the bourbon,” Sylvia said.

“That’s possible?” Addison asked.

“You saw what I saw.”

“They were from that summer?” Addison asked.

“The bourbon was,” Sylvia said.

“That means they gave up those memories,” Addison said. “They let them go, willingly.”

It didn’t make sense. Why would they do that?

“Your family has never seen eye-to-eye with mine,” Sylvia said.

“Your family is my family,” Addison breathed.

“Only if you want us to be.” Sylvia tucked a curl behind Addison’s ear, trailed the tip of her finger along her cheek.

Addison leaned into her touch for a second before pushing back. “I need to think.” She stood, her head a mess of memories and alcohol.

They could’ve had a full life together. They could’ve been a family.

But they’d given it all up. Her mother, her grandmother, even Kaden—her father—had handed over those memories. Why?