Page 104 of The Temptation of Truth

“It’s innocent,” I say out loud.

Even though I know, for me, it’s anything but.

23

MABEL

Scrollingthrough the photos on my laptop makes me feel sleezy.

They didn’t know these pictures were being taken. They didn’t ask for this. It’s a violation of their privacy, and I’m no better than the paparazzi.

These are the thoughts cycling through my head, but I still click from one image to the next. I still stare, unblinkingly, at each one. Analyzing every feature. Every expression. Every detail.

She’s got my eyes.

Or, rather,Ihavehereyes, I guess. And her heart-shaped face. Her stature. Her hair. Honestly, if I wanted a preview of myself in fifteen years, I could probably just look at these pictures. Genetics are wild, and my sisters are also little carbon copies of me, too.

The older daughter, Calliope, reminds me of Sav when I first met her, right down to the messy hair, ratty old jeans, and dirty skate shoes. A type B ball of unfettered energy. She even has the same glint in her eye. The one that always got Sav and me in so much trouble.

I grin as I zoom in on a picture of her. She’s walking down the street with a backpack hanging open and slung over her shoulder and a smirk on her lips. I bet she’s a handful. I bet we’d get along.

Amelia, the younger of the two, seems more easygoing. The calm to her sister’s chaos. Her backpack is always zipped. Her shoes are always tied and clean. She’s usually holding a book, and she’s always sporting a wide, genuine smile. Always.

They seem so different, so uniquely themselves, and I’m certain that means their mom is a good mom.

Ourmom.

Is this how I would have been at their age? Confident and carefree. Secure and loved. It took me a long time to settle into myself. To feel comfortable and safe in my own skin. Sav and I always say that we saved each other. But if I’d been kept, would I have needed saving?

I snap my laptop closed and drop my head back against the wall. I close my eyes and breathe.

Why is this so hard?

Why can’t I just make a decision and stick with it?

Is my hesitancy based on fear or intuition? Maybe both?

If nothing else, this process has revealed something that I’d rather not have known. Deep down, that insecure little girl is still alive and well. I thought I’d grown out of it. I thought I’d healed. But I’m still terrified of people leaving, of being unwanted and alone. Thirty years and dozens of lives later, yet not much has changed.

What life would I be living now if I’d just beenenoughfrom the beginning?

I push my palms into my eyes to stave off the tears, but they come anyway.

Every feeling of inadequacy, of loss, comes crashing down on me until I’m overwhelmed by them. I was just a baby. I was innocent and helpless. I wasn’t enough.

How long did it take before I knew love? Until I was able to hold it firmly in my hands without it being torn from my grip? Right now, it feels like I still can’t. Not really.

My birth mother. My foster families. Ms. Mabel. Kat. In one way or another, they all left. I always end up alone in the end.

Even Sav and the guys haven’t always been stable. I love them. They’re the only true family I’ve ever known, but dynamics are changing. They’re moving forward without me. They’ve got their own families and facets of their lives that don’t include me, and it hurts.

I know I’m always welcome in their homes, in their lives. IknowI am, but right now, I don’t feel it. Right now, I feel like the cycle is repeating itself. I feel like I’ll end up alone again. Right now, I feel sad and scared. I feel helpless.

I feel like I’m not enough.

I drop my head between my knees and breathe. Tears drip onto my thighs and down my calves. I press my toes into the floor. Try to remind myself that I’m on solid ground. I’m safe and in control, even if I feel like I’m plummeting.

Between my shaking inhales and exhales, I strain to hear the waves ebbing and flowing on the beach. The sound is carried through my French doors on the evening’s ocean breeze. I try to fill my lungs with that breeze. I try to pretend the salt I taste is from the air and not my tears.