When Tomorrow Starts Without me

by Stacy Claflin

  I can barely understand all these feelings welling up inside me. All I know is that I'll do anything for this person I didn't know last month. I'll move any mountain. Fight any jerk who looks at her wrong. Do whatever I can to help her get the answers she needs.

  "Where do you want to start?" I cup her chin.

  "I need to figure out who I am. What's my given last name?"

  "Wouldn't that be at the courthouse?"

  She shrugs. "I'd think so, but what if I'm not from around here? I don't remember where I lived with my real parents. It might've been really far away. What if it was out of state?"

  "I'll drive you."

  "Are you crazy? You have Flaming Combustion."

  "I can take a few days off."

  "No way. Not now. This is important—the agents and everything."

  I pull her close, unable to look into her eyes a moment longer without exploding. "Your questions are important too. More important, even."

  Kenna pulls back and shakes her head vigorously. "Not more than your career. You can't let anything get in the way of this. I'll go back home before I'll be the reason you get sidetracked from the band."

  I just stare at her. "Don't ever go back there."

  "I won't, but that's my point. I'm not getting in the way of your dream. You deserve this."

  My chest constricts. "You're too perfect to be real."

  "Are you serious?"

  "As a nun."

  "I can't even kiss you without crying."

  "That isn't your fault. Would it help if I beat up everyone who's ever hurt you?"

  She looks away. "That won't undo any of my past."

  "No, but it might make you feel better."

  "Maybe."

  "So, you want me to?"

  "No." She scoots closer. "I just want you here, with me."

  I kiss the top of her head. "I want that too, but it isn't enough. Just walking away from them isn't going to provide you with answers. It isn't going to give you healing."

  "No, but it helps a whole lot more than having to see them again. Having you here with me, it…" She pauses, clearly struggling for words. "I feel like I can do anything when you're around."

  "You have no idea how happy that makes me."

  "So, you'll stay by my side and not hit anyone?"

  "If that's what helps you."

  She nods and rests her head against my chest again.

  My heart thunders and my stomach twists in knots. Can she hear my heartbeat, and does she know what she does to me? I pull her onto my lap and cling to her as she trembles in my arms.

  I truly want to beat her entire family to a pulp. How dare they do this to her? They've destroyed her, and they don't even care.

  Years ago, I'd stopped believing in monsters, but now I know they exist—hidden in human form. I may not be able to do anything about her past, but at least I can protect her from any future harm.

  I run my hands over her hair and kiss the top of her head every so often until she finally relaxes.

  "Kenna?" I whisper.

  If she says anything, it's too quiet for me to hear.

  I whisper her name again, and still, no response. So I readjust my hold on her.

  Her eyes are closed, and her head rolls gently to the inside of my elbow. She lets out a tiny snore—it's the most adorable thing I've ever heard.

  I maneuver myself off the couch without waking her, and I carry her upstairs to her bedroom. Somehow I manage to get her underneath the covers without waking her.

  Kenna mumbles something.

  "What?" I tuck the covers around her.

  She mumbles again, her eyes moving back and forth under her closed lids. She's dreaming.

  "No. Don't." Kenna thrashes, throwing off the covers. "Stop!"

  I simultaneously want to throw up and put my fist through the nearest wall. If Theo wasn't in jail, I'd put him in the hospital. But with any luck, he's getting his justice behind bars.

  Kenna rolls around, getting herself twisted in the sheets. I pull them out from under her and give her some room.

  After a few minutes, I wonder how long she's going to keep this up. Does she always sleep this restlessly?

  She thrashes around, growing more erratic.

  I have to do something to help her. Watching just makes me feel helpless, and I refuse to just let her suffer. I kick off my shoes and lie next to her, wrapping an arm around her. She'll probably wake and hit me, but I don't care.

  Awake, she finds comfort in my arms. Maybe my hold will help to calm her dreams.

  I pull her closer so that her back is pressed against me, then I move the hair away from her ears and whisper. "You're safe. Rogan is here. You're safe in my arms."

  After what feels like forever, she finally relaxes. Her breathing returns to normal, and listening to it makes my eyelids heavy. I allow them to close, and a new song plays in my mind.

  I toy with the lyrics and hold onto the tune. This one is grittier than the rest, but it may be my best one yet.

  "Rogan!" That's my mom.

  My eyes fly open, and I sit up. "Mom, what are you doing here?"

  "I should be asking you the same thing. You—"

  "Shh! She's sleeping." I glide off the bed, fix the covers around her, and slip on my shoes.

  "Rogan, I have rules in this house. Yes, you're nineteen, but while you live here—"

  "Mom!" I gesture toward the door. "Out there."

  She glares at me but at least keeps quiet.

  I glance over at Kenna, who's still sleeping.

  Mom and I head into the hall, and I close the door behind me. "You could've woken her!"

  "Considering she's in bed with my son, I don't really care."

  I wave my hands in front of my clothes. "Did you happen to notice we're both fully dressed? Not even our socks are off!"

  "Doesn't matter. You know my rules."

  I take a deep breath and count to ten in my mind. Then twenty. "I didn't break any of them. She's traumatized, Mom. It's not my place to tell you what she's been through, but she needs comfort. That's what I'm giving her. Only that."

  "Not in a bed, not under my roof."

  "You're impossible!"

  "Am I? You live here rent-free when our deal was that you'd only stay here after graduation if you were in school."

  "Mom, I'm building a career. You know how big this is—the agents. We're going to have a big name producer. Concerts, tours, the works. The band and I are on the verge of picking our agent."

  Her mouth forms a straight line. "I know. That's why I'm letting you stay here for free. But we're not talking about that right now." She glances at Kenna's door. "We're talking about the girl you've brought here to also live here rent-free."

  I clench my fists. "Are you hurting for money? Is that what this is about?"

  "No, this is about rules. Neither of you have to pay rent, but you do need to pay with respect for me."

  I take a deep breath. "I understand, but we weren't doing anything."

  She stares into my eyes. "Do you have feelings for her?"

  "Mom."

  "Do you?"

  "Yes!"

  "Have you kissed her?"

  I throw my head back. "What does this have to do with anything?"

  Her brows knit together. "Have you kissed her?"

  "Yes! But it isn't anything that would break any of your rules. I've mostly kissed the top of her head and on her hand. She's not at a place where she's ready for a physical relationship, and believe me, I'm going to respect that."

  She leans against the wall and takes a deep breath before turning back to me. "I don't want the two of you alone in a bedroom."

  "This isn't the Middle Ages, and I already told you—we're not going to do anything!"

  "And all that it takes is one moment for you two to change your minds. If you two want to stay here, that's the rule. Break it, and you're both out."

  I throw my arms into the air. "Are you serious?"

  "
Deadly."

  "Fine. You win." I storm down the hall.

  "Rogan!"

  "We'll follow your rules," I call without turning to look back at her.

  What I really need is to pick an agent, sign with a recording studio, and cash in my advance. Then I can get my own place and follow my own rules.

  Rogan

  I write the last note of my newest song, stick the dulled pencil behind my ear, and take a deep breath. Now that I've gotten it down on paper, I can relax. It's going to take a lot of tinkering to get it exactly where I want it, but it's at least out of my head.

  Now I can focus on what's really on my mind—finding out the truth about Kenna's past. The more I think about her dad keeping the adoption from her, the more convinced I become that he's hiding something. Because seriously, who tells a three-year-old that they're adopted, then never brings it up ever again and expects her to remember it for life?

  Nobody's that stupid. He's a lazy, abusive jerk who always gets his own way. That doesn't happen by accident. No, he knows exactly what he's doing.

  The question is, why? What's he hiding? Adoption is hardly scandalous.

  Unless he has a reason to hide something about Kenna's parents' death from her. Is he behind it? Maybe he killed them because he stood to gain from it. But that didn't make much sense. Not when he obviously didn't give a crap about Kenna.

  Maybe his ex-wife wanted a child, and he saw that as his only option. Adopting from outside the family would probably be unlikely. Who would give a child to someone like him?

  Nobody, that's who.

  But if his ex wanted a child, why didn't she take Kenna when she left? Was she scared of him? If that was the case, wouldn't she be more concerned about bringing Kenna with her? She could've snuck out in the middle of the night with her if she'd really wanted.

  Nothing made any sense. Unless it had to do with money. Had he gotten money through the adoption? If so, he clearly hadn't used it to better any of them.

  Sutton bounds into the music room, her curls bouncing off her shoulder. "What'd you do to piss off Mom?"

  I groan. "Don't get me started."

  She sits in front of me. "This sounds good."

  "Have I ever told you how annoying you are?"

  "Maybe once or twice." She grins, making it hard for me to be mad at her. My baby sister has had me wrapped around her pinky since she was born, and she knows it. "Come on, tell me."

  "She caught me in bed with Kenna."

  Her mouth drops open. "And you're still alive?"

  "We were both fully clothed and literally sleeping."

  Sutton folds her arms. "Oh, you're no fun at all. So, Mom didn't send you packing?"

  I shake my head.

  She gasps. "She didn't send Kenna away? I was really enjoying my new sister."

  "No, Kenna's still here."

  "Good. But for future reference, if Mom does kick one of you out, make sure it isn't Kenna, okay?"

  "Your undying support never fails to surprise me."

  Sutton laughs. "You know I love you, but I'd trade in my brother for a sister in a heartbeat. Sorry."

  "Like I said…"

  She snatches my music sheet. "A new song?"

  I reach for it. "Give it back."

  Sutton pulls it away and reads over it. Her mouth gapes, then she stares at me.

  "Is it that bad?"

  "Do you really feel that way for Kenna?"

  I nod, suddenly feeling naked. Some songs should be left in my mind. And now, too late, I realize this is one of them. I can't cover myself. Sutton has already read my deepest emotions, raw and exposed. It would be less humiliating if she'd actually seen me naked.

  My sister holds the paper to her chest. "This is beautiful, Ro. I hope someone will feel this way about me someday."

  I snatch the paper from her grasp, quickly fold it, then stick it in my back pocket. "Whoever you marry will. And if he doesn't, he'll meet my fist."

  She kisses my cheek. "You're the best brother ever. Maybe I wouldn't trade you in, after all."

  "Thanks, I think."

  Sutton rises. "I'm glad you and Kenna are in love. You guys are just what the other needs."

  "In love?" I exclaim.

  "How else would you describe it?"

  My mind races for an answer.

  "See? It's love. That's gotta be why Mom's so adamant about her rules." She spins and practically skips out of the room.

  Love?

  Sutton thinks Kenna and I are in love?

  In love?

  What does she know about love, anyway? I sulk to the corner and yank the paper out of my pocket, ready to tear it into pieces. But the refrain catches my attention.

  I read it over, and my heart swells for Kenna. The words may expose me in ways I've never experienced, but somehow I don't mind. The lines are deep. Anyone in love will connect with the song and make it their own as soon as they hear it. I can actually picture it being the one that'll make us big.

  All because Kenna forced her way into my life without even trying. Now that I've met her, I can't let go. She's part of me. There's no changing that.

  There's also no denying how I feel about her. My sister may be younger, but she knows what she's talking about.

  I slide to the ground, reach for my guitar, then work on a verse from the song some more.

  * * *

  I'm captivated, captured

  Held hostage, enraptured

  Your gaze, my chain

  No longer feel the pain

  * * *

  Hold me tight, never let go

  Lost without you

  In a maze, no escape

  Lost without you

  Kenna

  I push the covers off and look around the bedroom. How did I end up here? I remember listening to Rogan singing. Or had we been talking? Did I fall asleep, and he carried me up?

  My stomach twists in knots, reminding me that I have bigger problems to worry about than how I ended up here.

  I'm adopted and have no idea how to find out anything about my parents. I have to find out where those records are kept, and I'm not sure I can even get that information since I don't have the same last name as I did when I was born. Or would my new name be on those papers?

  My stomach lurches. This is all so maddening. I want to pick up my phone and chew out my dad. Not that he would give me the information I want. He purposefully hid this from me my whole life! But why? Why bother hiding it? Was he afraid I'd run away? It wasn't like I could try to find my real parents when they're dead.

  The more I think about it, the more my stomach twists and lurches. I want to break something—like my dad's arm! How dare he keep this from me? What right does he have to keep such vital information to himself? It wasn't bad enough that he treated me so horribly and let his wife and her son treat me even worse?

  I jump to the floor and pace. It's tempting to pick up something and chuck it against the wall. But none of this is my stuff, and the Scotts haven't done anything but try to help me. I can't break their stuff.

  No, but I can call my dad. When does he ever leave the house? He's almost always on that recliner, with the remote in one hand, a beer in the other, and his phone within reach.

  I reach for my phone, surprised that my heart isn't racing like crazy. I'm not nervous. I just want answers.

  Good. This is exactly the state of mind I need to be in.

  I tap in his number and press to call him. It rings and eventually goes to voicemail. The loser is probably afraid the unknown number is a bill collector. He hates them for calling, wanting to collect what's owed to them.

  That's fine. I'm more patient than a collection agency. I'll call and call until he answers or turns off his phone. Then I'll call again until I get the answers I'm owed. It's my life, and I deserve to know these things.

  I call again, and this time it goes to voicemail faster than before. He's declining the call. No problem. I call again.

  And again.


  Then yet again.

  Close to the tenth time, he finally answers. "Stop calling me!"

  "Not until you give me the answers I want."

  "Kenna?"

  "Yes. Who are my parents?"

  "Not this again. Forget about it. It doesn't matter. They're dead."

  I take a deep breath, careful to make sure he can't hear. "Actually, it does matter. They are my past. If there are graves, I want to visit them. If there is medical history available, I want to know what it is. Fact is, you have no right to keep this information from me. I don't have to explain myself to you."

  "I don't owe you nothing!"

  The call ends.

  I call him back over and over until he answers again. "I'm going to block your number, Kenna!"

  "Oh, so you want me coming to the house? What are you going to do then? Try to have the police remove me when that's my legal address? Or have you fixed that already?"

  "Why do you care so much?"

  "They're my parents!"

  "Liz and I are your parents. Who the hell do you think raised you?"

  "You didn't supply one bit of my genetics. My real parents did."

  "Then find them yourself!"

  I freeze. "What did you just say?"

  "You heard me. Leave me alone."

  "You told me to find them. Why would you say that when they're dead?"

  He shouts a string of profanities at me. "Because you said you wanted to find their graves! Good luck. You're not gettin' nothing from me. Stop calling! Don't visit. Stay out of our lives. You've already destroyed Liz. She can't function with Theo in jail."

  "At least let me have my birth certificate. Give me that much, and I'll happily leave you alone forever."

  "I don't have it. You're on your own if you want that crap. It's just a stupid piece of paperwork."

  "Would Mom have it?"

  "Caroline?" He laughs cruelly. "Don't you remember her hightailing it out of here? She didn't stop to dig out important documents—especially yours. In case you didn't notice, she fled without you."

  I clench my fists. The man knows how to push my buttons. "So, there are important documents. Sounds like you have them if she doesn't."