My strides slow down, and when I’m a few feet away, I whisper, “Is it true?”

The men exchange glances, and before they can answer, the woman steps up. “You must be Myla.”

Hands shaking, voice about to break, I ask, “And who the hell are you?”

Their expressions are sympathetic as the woman steps even closer. “I’m going to assume your mom just told you about us.”

“No.” I shake my head. “No, it’s not fucking true. Tell me you’re not my dad’s other family.”

“I’m sorry, Myla,” Miranda says. “It wasn’t . . . it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“Holy . . . fuck,” I say as I move away from them, gripping my head in total confusion.

“Myla, please, let us talk.”

“No . . . no.” I continue to shake my head and then look up at the woman. I point and mutter, “Fuck you. Do you . . . do you realize what you did to me? What my dad did to me? Who you both left me with? I grew up with a monster because you couldn’t understand the fact that my dad was a married man. That he couldn’t understand that he had a daughter who desperately needed him.” I shake my head again. “No. There will be no talking. I want nothing to do with you. Fuck you, all of you.”

And then I turn on my heel and head right into Nichole’s arms.

“Want me to take you home?”

“Yes, get me the hell out of here.”

* * *

“You know I love you, right?” Nichole asks as she brushes my hair away from my face.

When we got back to our shared townhome, she took me up to my room and let me cry on her lap until I fell asleep. When I woke up, it was morning, and I still hadn’t moved.

“I know,” I whisper, my throat feeling tight, hoarse from all the crying. “You might be the only one in my life who does.”

“Have you spoken to Ryot?”

I shake my head. “No. And I don’t want to.”

“Why?” she asks.

“Because . . . what’s the point? My mom was right. He’s going to put baseball first. Every time. I can’t compete with that.”

“I hate to admit that your mom is right because that woman should truly be engulfed by hell at this point, but she is. This is his career. His passion. Someone who works that hard to get to that level isn’t just going to give it up. They never will. And I hate to say this, but this was an example of that truth.”

“I know,” I say softly. “I love him, Nichole, but I’m not sure he loves me enough and, after everything I’ve been through this past week, I don’t think . . . I don’t think I can handle the rejection.”

“What are you going to do?” she asks just as the door to my bedroom opens and Ryot stands on the other side.