"I went there to see if I could get any information on the shooting. I didn't want to go into the office or anything official, so I asked some of the teachers, pretending to be a concerned friend. They told me she was in a coma." He shook his head. "I went to the nearest bar and started drinking again. I haven't been back to my hotel in two days. Every time I tried to sober up, I couldn't stand the pain. I got your messages, but I couldn't handle talking to you or anyone. I didn't know what I would say."

"What you just said," I told him. "We've been worried about you, Dad. The police found your hotel room. They've been waiting for you to come back."

"The police? Why? Shit! Did someone report the fight we had?"

"I don't think so, but when I told the inspector that Mom had run away from her life and now you were nowhere to be found, they came up with the idea that she'd left you because you were violent and, perhaps, you'd found her again."

His face paled. "All I did was slap her, Brynn. I swear that's all I did. It was wrong. I feel sick about it. I don't hit people. You know that. You know me."

I swallowed a quickly growing knot of emotion. "I thought I knew you, Dad. Although now I wonder if I should be calling you that."

"What are you talking about?" he asked in confusion.

"I'm talking about what you said last night before you fell asleep."

His lips tightened. "I don't remember what I said last night. It's hazy."

A part of me wished I'd forgotten it, too. But I hadn't. "I'm going to tell you what you said, and you're going to give me the truth."

"The truth about what?"

I drew in a breath of courage and then said, "Last night, you told me that Mom left you with two kids who weren't even yours. You wondered how she could do that."

The blood drained from his face. "Brynn," he whispered.

"If Dani and I are not yours, then who is our father?"

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

"God!" My father ran a hand through his hair, his eyes jumping all around. "I—I shouldn't have said that. You're my daughters. You've always been mine."

"Then why would you say such a thing?"

"I was drunk."

"You're not drunk now, but you're lying, aren't you? Are you my biological father or not? It's a yes-or-no question."

He drew in a ragged breath, then said, "No. I'm not your biological father."

I'd been expecting that answer, but it still shook me up. "Why would you pretend you were? And who is my father?" I asked in bewilderment.

"I don't know who he is."