He looked astounded and confused. “All of this?”

“All of those boxes.” Marie pointed. “Including skanky underwear, sappy praise, and more death threats.”

He turned on her, and then turned his questioning glare on me. “Death threats?” What could I say? As sick as it was, it wasn’t anything new. Several thousand of his fans hated that he was with me.

Some unspoken message passed between Ryan and Mike before Ryan cursed and then hauled one of the boxes out to my living room.

I boxed up all of the videos, noting that my name was written on the majority of them. Memories. Childhood memories.

Memories that Dan and Jennifer Mitchell made for me.

Without even thinking, I grabbed the box of tapes and sat on my living room floor in front of the television, pressing the tape marked “Fourth of July 1986—Taryn 4 yrs old” into the aging VCR.

Ryan sat on the ottoman behind me.

“Look at you! All curly blond ringlets.” I smiled at my innocent babbling about swimming with my Barbie doll, pushing my oversized sunglasses up my sun-kissed nose.

I had on a little pink one-piece swimsuit with a blue fish on the hip.

Ryan pointed over my shoulder. “Is that?

Yeah, that’s your pappy’s cabin.” I saw the familiar gray cinder-block garage behind me.

And then I saw him. Like a ghost out of my innermost thoughts he appeared, coming out of the garage behind me. Tall, thin, and lanky, walking with the stinted lope of a teenager.

There he was, captured forever on film.

The boy with the black hair.

I felt as though someone poured ice through my veins.

Chapter 15

Discoveries

I stared at the television for so long my eyes hurt. It was like he walked right out of one of my nightmares and presented himself to me.

Here I am—the one who haunts you.

Ryan had moved behind me after telling Mike and Marie we needed a few minutes of privacy. He sat on the floor, holding me while I quietly broke down again.

I didn’t even realize I was touching my own mouth until I felt Ryan’s hand smooth around my wrist. “In my dreams, he always has bloody teeth. Just blood—everywhere. I never . . .” It was hard to speak.

“Is that Joe?” Ryan asked softly.

I nodded. “I think so.” I rewound the tape and paused to see him in still frame but the tape made squiggly lines on the screen, obscuring his face.

I felt Ryan’s lips, his breath on my neck.

“Is this one of the things that has you jumping out of bed sometimes?”

“Yeah. All this time, I didn’t know who he was. He’s not in any family pictures. I thought . . . I thought he was someone I made up.”

Ryan slipped the remote out of my hand and pressed play again. The tape rolled on, mostly capturing me playing with beach toys in a round plastic wading pool on the grass.

Every so often, Joe would make an appearance, a ghost in the background, lurking, but always keeping an eye on the camera’s direction. I suppose, keeping an eye on me.

“I want to know him.”

Ryan’s hand skated across my face, taking in my plea. “Mike can find him if you want,” he said.

I thought about it for a second. “I want him to want to know me, too. It can’t be one-sided. He’s got to want to know me but it’s been so long—people change.” Ryan held my face, pressing a soft kiss on my lips, but he was distracted by the heavy thudding of footsteps coming up my stairwell.

I heard Pete’s hearty greeting when Marie let them in.

Ryan crawled around me, pressing the eject button. “You change your mind, just say the word. We can hire someone to track him down. I’ll let you decide if you want to share all of this with them.”

My gaze was locked on the tight skin of his body, graciously exposed when his T-shirt rode up his stomach. It was just the jolt I needed.

Pete instantly scrutinized me and jerked his head for me to follow him to the dining room, where he cornered me. “Red-rimmed eyes. All puffy. You okay?”

Nothing got past Pete.

And I couldn’t lie to him. I gave him a noncommittal head bob while his mouth silently said “bullshit.” I decided talk therapy was what I needed.

I pulled out a chair and asked Tammy to join us. No sense having to repeat myself.

After a string of introductory words, I then uttered the two words that churned like acid in my stomach.

“. . . I’m adopted.”

Ryan closed our bedroom door and peeled his shirt off, exposing a body I’d never get tired of looking at. “You know I don’t care, right?” His words were as gentle as the eyes that watched me with apprehension. I’d spent an evening discussing my origins with my friends; it was emotionally exhausting.

“I know.”

“Doesn’t change anything about how I feel about you. The only thing I want to know is if you’re going to take my last name when we get married, which I’m hoping to hell you will.”

I blinked at him, processing what he said, and then sort of melted inside. “I had intended to.”

He breathed out a contended sigh and hugged me. “Thank you.”

I heard the toilet flush and Marie’s and Mike’s low murmurs outside our closed door.

“It’s weird having other people here,” I muttered conspiratorially.

“Yeah, I know. I totally love your apartment but I hope you know I don’t want to live above your pub for the rest of our lives.”

“Or listen to Marie giggle before sex.”

“That too,” he chuckled, palming my rear.

“You do realize that Mike and I can’t leave here until both of you are bowlegged and glowing, right?”

I grinned. “You should make it a competition. See which one of you folds first.” Before I could react, Ryan let me go and grabbed the doorknob. “Hallway meeting,” he called out loudly.

I felt instant mortification. “Ryan!”

“Shush.” Ryan crossed his beefy arms, waiting. God, I loved his biceps. Mike came out of the room, sans shirt as well. Damn, he was built like a linebacker who spends his life in a gym, not to mention his chest was as smooth as a baby’s bottom.

“Two things,” Ryan started, holding up his fingers. “You come out of your room for any reason, you put something on. I don’t want to see anyone else’s bare ass other than my woman’s. Number two, Taryn suggests we make a wager on this evening’s festivities.”

“Ryan!”

He pushed me back with his fingertips.