“You…uh…too. Blake didn’t really explain to me who you are—other than a friend—or why I am here.”
Awkward moment incoming. Might as well get it out of the way. Jax moves in and puts a comforting arm around my shoulder. “Well, that’s really complicated. Blake and I were Recruit partners together. We were…involved…but it didn’t work out. The SCI though…they did some messed up things to us. One of those things was to implant me with embryos using eggs they stole from me and different fathers. Blake is…uh…one of those fathers. But I assure you, we are just friends now.”
Her eyes go really wide. “And I thought some crappy things happened to me. That’s really crazy. Blake’s a father? He never mentioned that. I have a hard time seeing him as one.”
Jax can’t hold back a laugh. “It’s not really his forte. I have a video of him changing a diaper. Want to see it?”
I’d already seen the evidence of Blake’s ineptitude at baby care, so I let Madison watch. By the end, she is laughing so hard that her face is wet with tears.
After Jax’s excellent icebreaker, I give her a tour, with the exception of the baby wing. I let her pick out a bedroom. She chooses one on the other side of the apartment. We agree to eat dinner together early in the morn and get to know each other better. Then I leave her to get situated.
I find Jax in the nursery checking on the babies. I collapse onto the couch. I say, “I’m confused. She’s a really nice girl. But why is she here?”
Jax sits down next to me. I snuggle up next to him and play with his hair, making it even messier than it usually is. Thankfully, he doesn’t care. He gives me the scoop on Madison’s background, and it brings me to tears. No wonder Blake wanted to get her out of Art City.
“You doing okay?” Jax asks me. “These last few days have been…intense.”
“No, but I will be. I need a favor, and I’m nervous about how you will take it. I don’t mean it in a bad way—I really don’t. But I need some time and space to get control of my life back. I can’t depend on you to take care of every day terror and solve every problem. I need to learn how to do it on my own…to face my problems, not just hide them. I need to figure out who I am and what I want in life. Does that make any sense?”
He wraps his arms around me and kisses me on the top of the head. “Yes, love. It makes perfect sense. I’m proud of you, you know?”
I stay enfolded in his embrace breathing in his vanilla scent, committing it to memory.
Two months later
I feel like a different person. I am a different person. It has been a hard road but completely worth it. I worked with my therapist six nights a week and shed more tears than I thought were possible. I exercised daily and journaled about my feelings.
My therapist encouraged me to strip my life “down to the basics.” “Once you are down to the basics, you will understand what things are essential and what aren’t. It will help you get rid of the ‘dead wood’ in your life and keep the ‘diamonds’ even if they are diamonds in the rough.” It seemed like a great way to figure out what and who I needed as much as food and water and what and who I didn’t.
The thing is—I can get by on my own. I can survive. I have proven it to myself. I’m not the weak, worthless person I feared I was. I am a survivor.
When Briella and Tristan and my friends were killed in that explosion back on Earth—I kept going.
When Blake left me in the middle of a flash flood to go after his father and I thought he had died—I kept going.
When my adoptive parents were killed right in front of me—I kept going.
When Ethan and I were forcefully separated after our Cleaving—I kept going.
When attempt after attempt was made on my life—I kept going.
When I found out I was adopted—I kept going.
When my son was stolen and I had two other children who needed me—I kept going.
When I asked Jax to stop being my crutch—I kept going.
I can do it. I can do it. I can live. I can, and I will. I won’t always do it well—which I have proven this past year—but I’ll keep going. I’ll keep going and learning and growing. There is purpose to my life, after all. I can be a better version of myself than I ever thought possible if I choose to learn from every experience.
It didn’t work to bottle my problems or avoid them. I had become an expert on avoidance, on pretending like the bad things didn’t happen or trying to put them in a lockbox and throw away the key. That strategy ended in a complete emotional breakdown. It also didn’t work to put a Band-Aid on my problems—by having Jax reduce the sharp stabbing to a dull, aching pain. I had to face my issues and conquer them. And what did I learn? The more I conquered, the stronger I felt, the healthier I became.
I feel as light as air, like the weight of Thera has been lifted off my back.
Eating, drinking, and sleeping needed to be tackled first. If those were a mess, everything else would get screwed up too. I could eat and drink, but my sleep had been a disaster for more than a year. So I knew it was critical I tackle the day terrors. And they are gone!
I had to ask Jax to refrain from helping no matter how bad my terrors got. And they got so bad I had to move my nightstands away from my bed and line the floor with pillows, so I wouldn’t kill myself in my sleep. I spent weeks bruised and occasionally bloodied.
But with the nightly help of my therapist, the day terrors started to subside. And I know it is because I came to accept and embrace my past—both the good things and the bad. I wouldn’t be who I am, or where I am, if I hadn’t had my experiences and trials. By letting go of the fear, I got my sleep back.
The hardest thing for me to face was my fear of death. I’d been witness to so much death, and my life was on the line so many times. And now that I was a mother, death terrified me that much more. The thought of my children growing up without me was too much to contemplate.
What I realize now is that my children will have their own demons to face, own burdens to release, and own mistakes to make. No matter how much any of us would like to, we can’t go through someone’s trials for them. We can provide relief and support and comfort, as Jax has done for me, but, ultimately, we can’t remove the source of the pain.
I’ve learned a lot about myself and my capabilities during these last two months.
I know that I love being a mom. I cried when the babies learned to crawl. I cried when Evvie’s first word was “mama.” I would do anything for my children. They bring me more joy than I ever thought was possible.
I also know with every fiber of my being that being a mom is not the only thing I’m meant to accomplish in my life. There are some days where I feel like I’m on the verge of something—something big. I can’t quite grasp what it is, but I’ll know it when it comes.
I recognize the importance of friends—those who can lift you up and lighten your load. Since I pushed Jax away, Madison and I have become great friends. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed having a girl friend who I could talk to and confide in. She has a fantastic self-deprecating sense of humor, and she’s great with the babies. I tell the babies she is “Aunt Maddy.” Even though she can’t remember what happened to her back on Earth, she knows that the SCI messed with her memories, and she’s grateful to not know. She has been meeting with my therapist as well.
I’ve accepted that the babies’ fathers might not be involved in their night-to-night lives. Ethan has been absent, chasing the trail of people who don’t want to be found. He’s obsessed with finding and exonerating Alexa.
Blake has come by to see Madison a couple times, but he pays no attention to Aiden. He pays a lot of attention to Madison. But neither of them have acted on their feelings, and I am not sure they ever will while Madison is living here with me. Perhaps I just need to come right out and give them my blessing. They both deserve to be happy.
Jax and I, at my request, have been like passing ships in the night. He takes over when I go to therapy or have girl�
�s mornings with Madison. When I do run into him, he looks haunted and pained. When I ask what’s wrong, he tells me that he’s battling his own demons. And like me, it’s a personal fight.
I have been sticking to a highly regimented schedule. Everyone in the apartment knows exactly where I’ll be, what I’ll be doing, and when.
Tonight, I plan to deviate.
My alarm jolts me out of bed at 1730 hours. I groan. Since relocating to Thera, I’ve never become an early evening bird. I’m way more of a morning owl. I throw on some yoga pants and a t-shirt and get the babies ready for their evening. Then we all go out to the kitchen to make breakfast. I let the babies crawl around my feet and pull things out of drawers, which keeps them highly entertained.
At 1800 hours, Jax comes bolting into the kitchen like the apartment’s on fire. His clothes are a mess; his face hasn’t been shaved in days. When he sees me, he relaxes momentarily, and then, the most devastating look comes across his face—as if I just wrecked the vintage Mustang that he’d spent five years restoring.
I smirk and hand him a plate with his favorite omelet, bacon, and a small stack of chocolate chip pancakes. Now he looks like he just entered the Twilight Zone. Jax has always been the one up early, tending to the babies, and cooking breakfast.
He accepts the food but puts it down on the counter and leans down to kiss each of the babies. Then he slowly walks over to the table and picks at his food, barely touching it.
He thinks you don’t need him anymore.
I sit down across from him and watch him mangle my masterpiece. I had some bites—I know it’s all edible. In fact, it tastes good.
“How have you been?” I ask. I’ve missed you.
He mumbles. “It sure doesn’t seem like it.”
“Jax. I became really needy and dependent on you. That’s no longer the case. I don’t need you to be able to sleep anymore. I don’t need you to cook my breakfast every eve. I don’t need you to help me with the babies. I don’t need you to rescue me or save me—from myself or from others. I don’t need you to shop for me or remodel for me or pick out my clothes.”
I pause. He looks like I just told him he has terminal cancer. Tears are dripping onto his plate. “Jax,” I say softly. “I don’t need you for any of those things. I don’t expect any of it from you. I can survive on my own. But I don’t want to.”
Color returns to his face and his mouth is hanging open. Hold the non-existent Theran presses. Jax Christo is speechless—for the first time ever. All his detractors would be so disappointed to know they missed the moment.
The doorbell rings, interrupting my enjoyment of seeing Jax in complete shock. “Hold that thought. We need to finish our conversation.” A short man with bright-red hair hands me an envelope. I bring it back over to the table, open it, and then read the note out loud.
“Kira,
“I’ve assembled all the babies in Garden City, so that you can see for yourself that they are still alive and well. You’ll need to use the portals. For the babies’ safety, I have them in that place I took you and Ethan on a tour of way back when. You’ll know what I’m talking about. Come immediately.”
Brad.”
An 8 x 10 picture is included. Dozens of babies are spread out on some sort of white and gold-veined marble platform. I gasp at the first sight of the children created with my stolen eggs. A tear drops on a boy who looks so much like Zander, they could be twins. I quickly brush it away.
There’s a lot more I need to say to Jax. To clarify. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea. Misunderstandings cause pain. But right now…I need to go to Garden City.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ethan
Kira has to be wrong about Alexa and Joshua. There’s really no other option because if Kira’s right, then I’ve been played. I will find out I’m the ultimate chump and it will destroy me.
Alexa wouldn’t do that to me. I want to believe that what we had—despite being wrong—was real. Please let it have been real.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have my doubts. Kira’s accusation is like a spotlight wading through my memories, shining its light on every inconsistency. I could easily believe it to be true—that Alexa and Joshua were working together, behind my back, to take on the SCI. The clues are there. But for my sanity, I have to believe that every clue is a coincidence. The alternative would be unbearable.
Alexa and Joshua were together a lot because it was Joshua’s job to watch her. Alexa seemed to hate him back when I escorted them both to Thera. Sure, later on they were more friendly. He touched her, told her she was hot, picked out her clothes. But it was only because he had a crush on her. She didn’t return his feelings. They couldn’t have been seeing each other behind my back.
Alexa’s questions about the SCI were mere curiosity. She wasn’t using my position on the Ten to get sensitive information out of me.
When Joshua asked me where the post-election parties were being held, it was because he wanted to support Henry and go to a posh party. He wasn’t trying to plan the attack that would kill my mother.
Joshua’s reaction to the Stand Up rally at Disneyland was completely normal. “He has got to be stopped, man.” He was speaking rhetorically.
Joshua just doesn’t like me. That’s why he always gave me a hard time and pushed my buttons. It was my imagination when he seemed to tense up or growl every time Alexa was mentioned. It wasn’t because his girlfriend was kissing me.
What was it Joshua said at the party that night? “I’m here to party. And to Stand Up for what I believe and all that.” Oh Gads. No. It can’t mean what I think. He was just making a joke.
Am I rationalizing? Or am I right?
I won’t be able to have peace until I find out one way or the other.
Brad’s guy in the FBI, James, agrees to let me look at the personal effects of Alexa and Joshua that were collected in the restaurant kitchen. My mind keeps flashing to two weird things I saw the night of the explosion that could implicate Alexa and Joshua. I’m positive that I’m just imagining things.
The detectives found Alexa’s purse and Joshua’s wallet. I look through Alexa’s purse first.
Where’s the necklace? Alexa had been wearing a big, bulky necklace that night. She took it off at some point and had to have put it in her purse. Nothing else would make sense. I find keys, a Clean Slate Complex ID, lipstick and other makeup, a brush, some breath mints. The necklace isn’t here. I describe it to the detectives and they check through the evidence log to see if they found it in the remains of the restaurant. They did not.
Maybe she put it back on. It’s probably nothing.
I, also, have been racking my brain to see if I even remember Joshua being at the after-party. He was at the main party, for sure. But at the after-party? There’s a thought that’s bothering me. I did think I’d seen Joshua that night. The guy was the same build as Joshua. Then I realized, it was a Secret Service agent. The same one I saw heading towards the kitchen. Could Joshua have been in disguise? Was he skilled enough to pull that off? He had other skills you didn’t realize—like his military and weaponry prowess.
Could Joshua have been leading a secret life? I realize that I don’t actually know him well enough to answer that question. We rarely saw each other, and when we did, our interactions were anything but friendly.
Alexa’s not here to ask. Victor and Violet aren’t here to ask. However, I do know someone who spent time with him—Blake.
I wait until late evening to disappear from my apartment to go see Blake. I catch the very end of a nasty blow-out fight between Blake and Bailey. They look ridiculous. Blake’s sporting Military City camouflage garb, and Bailey’s in the hideous rainbow Art City uniform. I have never understood why Blake got involved with Bailey. Wrong girl to pick for a rebound romance. She’s like a drain-your-body-of-blood parasite.
“I haven’t even begun to mess with you and your other girlfriends, Blake.” Bailey is yelling at Blake in a screechy voi
ce. “Soon you’ll wish you were never born.”
Blake has his hands up in the air. “Whatever, Bailey. I didn’t do anything to deserve your wrath or your vengeance, particularly since you have moved on with Adam. But you can throw your little tantrum anyway. Just keep Kira and Madison out of it. Not that you can get to them. They are tucked away safe and sound—far away from you and your psychotic threats.”
“You never know when opportunity will knock.”
That seems like my cue. “Speaking of—knock, knock.” I walk between them. “So sorry to interrupt. Need any backup here, Blake?”
He does a double-take, obviously surprised to see me. I’m taking a big risk. I didn’t arrive through official channels. If necessary, I’ll have to use Jax as an alibi—and right now, I don’t even want to think Jax’s name, much less speak it.
“Ethan?”
“I’m just returning the unexpected visit favor. Can we talk? Alone?” I give Blake a conspiratorial grin, which is sure to make Bailey even more angry. But I really couldn’t give a crap about her. The clock is ticking, and I only have so much time to find Alexa.
Blake starts to tap his foot. “See ya, Bailey. I’d say we could continue this conversation later, but the truth is…I prefer to never speak to you again.”
She huffs and charges out of the room, her blonde hair flailing behind her.
Blake and I flop down on the “furniture” in his room—a couple flower shaped bean bags that I am pretty sure are full of rocks. Or maybe they are beans. They definitely aren’t soft or inviting. I catch Blake up on all the evidence we found condemning Victor and Violet, as well as Kira’s theory that they were set up by Alexa and Joshua. I want his honest opinion, so I try to keep my feelings on the matter hidden.
After I’m finished, he rubs his face in his hands as he tries to process it all. “Is this conversation on the record or just between us?”
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