“With that said, your mother has had this uncontrollable fear of motorcycle clubs. Terrified of their reach. Terrified of their violence. Terrified that at any moment they were going to barge into our house and rip you out of our hands. She told me stories and for the first few years I believed them, but then year after year we heard nothing. Saw nothing. My fear receded and yet your mother’s stayed the same.”

“Do you think she lied to you?” I broach. “About the club?”

“Not intentionally. Your mother believes the same lies they tell themselves. They act bigger and badder than they really are. They probably threatened her and she fell for it. The most dangerous part of ourselves can be an overactive imagination.”

My cheeks burn and I lower my head. How many times has Dad reminded me of that when it pertains to my fears? “So I’m safe.”

“You’re safe. I guarantee they’ll act overprotective, but things will remain silent and this part of the game will be over.”

A group of women pull up to the warehouse in a minivan then hop out. Two of them have babies on their hips and a toddler in a T-shirt that proclaims him a “Reign of Terror supporter” follows. “If that’s what you really believe then why do you want me to stay and feed into this game?”

Dad’s blue eyes flicker over my face. He’s done this since I was young—encouraged me to discover the answers without his help. Sound out the word, Em. You can figure it out... Would a real friend treat you that way...? Don’t you wonder what’s out there in the world...? Aren’t you curious about your heritage?

“You want me to know my biological family.”

He relaxes back onto the swing. “You’re curious about them.”

“I’m not. Trust me, I’m really, really not.”

We swing slowly. His foot controlling the speed and how high or low we go. Dad’s thinking and I’m used to this, but the longer he waits to speak the worse it will be for me. He’s forming an argument, one I’ll surely lose.

“There’s more to life than our home and Florida. More to life than me, your mom and the friends you’ve made there. The world is a huge place. How will you know where you fit in unless you explore beyond your comfort zone?”

I wave my hand toward the warehouse in disgust, beyond caring that it’s obvious to the gawkers that I’m hating. “And this is where I should start? I’ll make you a deal, I’ll go home and visit somewhere safer in Florida, like a prison. Maybe a toxic waste dump.”

Dad laughs. I wasn’t joking. “Anytime your mother even casually brings up the past, you pay complete attention. You’ve never been one to mince words so if you weren’t slightly curious about Eli, you never would have agreed to the visitations. You’re frightened of Snowflake because your mother raised you to be. If you stay, maybe you’ll figure out that there’s nothing to fear and maybe your mom will finally learn that she has no reason to be afraid of Eli or his club.”

My stomach flips multiple times. Mom and Eli hugged. I’m not so sure that it’s Eli she’s scared of, but I choose to keep this tidbit to myself. There’s no way I could ever tell my father that my mother, his wife, touched another man.

I listen to the creaking of the swing as I let the events of the past night and his words sink in. Dad informed me from the moment I walked off the plane that I wasn’t in danger and that everything was fine, but like Mom I permitted my fear to lead me.

I release a long breath and bite the bullet. “Mom’s lied to me, hasn’t she? About Eli’s family?”

The porch swing stills and my dad tenses beside me.

“Olivia showed me a picture of me and her together. I was a baby and James the Elephant was seriously pink and fluffy.”

He’s silent for a moment. “I promised your mother I would never discuss certain things with you. I agreed, not understanding the effect it would have on you both. I don’t break my promises. Especially to your mother.”

No, he’d never break a promise to either of us. “Which is why you fought for the visits with Eli and why you think I should stay here.”

Dad wraps an arm around me and squeezes my shoulder. “There’s a big world out there and you have blood family in it. I’m not suggesting that you forget us and fall in love with them, but—”

“It’s okay to be curious,” I whisper.

“It is,” he agrees.

“I’m not saying I am,” I mutter.

He ignores me. “Our fears are what stifle us and we’re only scared of what we don’t understand. Fear can be handed down generationally, kind of like eye color. I love your mom, but I also love you. I don’t want to see your mother’s fears turn into chains that drag you down.”

I let my gaze roam. Men gather around their bikes. Another group of guys hang around the women and children. Mom still stares at us, as do Oz and Eli. It’s the same picture from when we sat down, yet it’s changed.

“These people scare the hell out of me,” I say.

“They’re flesh and blood like the rest of us. That, as a doctor, I can guarantee.”

My mother was afraid. Very afraid. And she fled from here. Why, I don’t know, but I run the risk of letting fear paralyze me if I don’t overcome it and what better way to overcome it than to stay in the scariest town on earth?

“If I ask Mom what happened, she won’t tell me, will she?”