“I’m sorry, Lark. He loves you more than you’ll ever know.”

When a lump forms in my throat, I’m convinced it’s the remains of my heart trying to escape. “You’re right. I won’t know because he’s gone. Where did he go anyway?”

She looks down and then dabs her eyes with a tissue as well. “I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you know?”

Looking at me, she replies, “Because he knows I would tell you.”

I wrap my arms around my middle, feeling guilt consuming me. I’ve been too hard on her. I can cry or even throw a fit, but it won’t change that he left.

Delta’s not the enemy but an ally to me. She’s his mother, but Harbor knows she’d tell, so he didn’t want to put her in an awkward position. Not that he succeeded, but he tried. For her? For me?

She leans forward as if she’s sharing a secret of her own. “Harbor isn’t my only wild child.” Glancing through the windows, the slightest of smiles is seen when she watches Noah diving into the pool. When she turns back, she says, “But he considers himself a black sheep. What he hates about himself for being different, I adore. There’s a quieter confidence.” She grins like there’s more to that story. “At least around me. I can’t speak to his friends or those he’s dated. I have a feeling some arrogance might play into his character when he’s out in the world.”

I think about the first time we met and how it wasn’t arrogance but a sense of self that caught my eyes. He may have felt lost over the years—grieving not only his cousin’s death but who he was before Lucas passed—but he was making strides to regain all he’d lost on the inside.

“It’s not that which drew me to him. It was his character, his humor, the way he was always close to me, physically, and listened. He listened to me like someone who wasn’t listening to himself. He understood the hole that Liz left. He didn’t try to fill that, competing for the space would have been a useless endeavor. He just loved me enough that I didn’t notice the absence of her anymore.”

“May I ask who Liz is?”

I had been absently staring at a family photo on the mantel when I turn to look at her again. “Liz? Liz is my mom. But she left when I was two. Disappeared like Harbor.”

“Liz Shaw? Elizabeth Shaw?” She slowly stands, staring at me like she’s seen a ghost. Her eyes examine my face as if she’s seeing another person altogether.

I turn away, the intensity of her stare feels too much for me to handle right now. Shaw? Is that her name? “I have no idea what her last name is . . . was. I don’t know anything about her. I’ve never even seen my birth certificate.” I waffle. “On purpose. She left me, so what was the point of investing my time in her?”