ANDY
I hated that tiny crack of doubt.
It felt like a betrayal to my mother.
I had spent four years holding on to the version of her I remembered because, for a long time, she had been the only person I thought had truly been mine. Whatever mistakes she had made, whatever happened between her and Dad, I had never believed she was capable of deliberately hurting me.
Now he stood in front of me, telling me everything I remembered had been built on lies.
F*ck that noise.
Not gonna happen.
I shook my head and let out a bitter laugh. "You expect me to believe that?"
"I expect you to hear me."
"I've heard enough." I turned toward the door, but his voice stopped me.
"Then ask yourself why I was so desperate to keep you from knowing the truth."
My hand froze on the doorknob.
Slowly, I
