I hate the stab of rejection I feel at that, but I can no longer deny that I've always felt abandoned by my mother. There's no question she did what was best for me by letting Dad raise me, but still...I've always wondered if raising me herself would have helped her clean up faster. Probably I would have ended up in foster care and had a horrible childhood, but the thought's still there.

"She's your mother, Lauren. I didn't need a court order to tell me what was right. As messed up as she was, I felt it was important to keep her in the loop on what you were doing. Oh, boy, you should have seen her grin the day you graduated college. Seeing you walk across that stage--"

"What? She was there?!"

"Of course, she was. High school, too."

I don't understand what's happening but I know I need to sit down. I manage to make it to a seat behind the counter and gape up at Dad.

"Lauren, are you ready to listen now?"

At my nod, he tells me how Grace barely survived the last OD -- the last time I saw her -- and that he paid for her to go into Serenity House, where she finally got clean and sober. She'd spent the last decade working menial jobs and attending night school to earn her Master's degree in rehab counseling. To complete the circle, Serenity House hired her as a counselor the day of her graduation two years ago.

"Sweetie, she understood why you didn't want to see her, and she wasn't willing to push you. Not because she didn't want you in her life, but because she knew she'd caused you too much pain. But she always believed that the day would come when you'd eventually seek her out. Guess today was that day."

Did he really just say that? But of course it all makes sense now.

"I didn't seek her out!" I jump up, brushing away Papi's hand, and pace the floor. I've never been so angry with my Dad, ever. "You sent me there! You knew all along that Grace worked there and that's why you recommended it when I told you about Jake. Do you have any idea how earth-shattering it is to just bump into the mother you thought had popped fifty too many pills?"

"Honeybear, it was the only way I could think of to get you talking about her."

I jab a finger in his face, a part of me noticing how raw my nails are. I don't even remember chewing them, that's how upset I am.

"Don't you dare call me 'honeybear'! I honestly don't know how I can forgive you for this, Dad. Not only do I feel rejected by my own crackhead mother, but now my father has betrayed me. What a great day this has turned out to be!"

I run out of the store in tears, Papi shouting after me to come back. I have no idea where I'm going but I'm doing something I never did as a child. I'm running away from home.

I used to think there was no safer place in the world than in the arms of my dads, but sitting here on the Sandra Jean snuggled into Drax's embrace, I know differently.

"I just can't believe they'd betray me like that," I repeat for what must be the tenth time. He's let me prattle on and on, all the while holding me to his muscled chest and not saying a word.

"What do you think?" I look up at him, expecting total agreement. I should know by now to always expect the unexpected from Drax.

"You really want to know?"

No! "Of course."

"I think you're being too hard on them, especially Papi...er, Luis. Let's get real. He couldn't go against Malcolm, so let's exclude him from the hate parade. Now from what you've told me, Malcolm tried to tell you about your mom several times over the years. So I'm trying to figure out how this is all his fault."

Ooh, the dude's just poked a hornets' nest. I shove back from him, fire practically spitting from my eyes. "So it's all my fault?!"

"What? No, that's not what I said!" He takes a deep breath and captures me with those damn eyes. He knows I'm powerless now. "Lauren, how old were you the last time you saw your mom?"

"Fifteen." I grind out through clenched teeth.

"I know you've always been a good girl...well, mostly--" he gives me a wink and I blush furiously "--but in my experience, even good girls rebel. Especially when they're that age. My father deals with teenagers every day and he'll tell you that's when kids practice asserting their independence. It prepares them for adulthood. So there are times when adults need to let the kids make their own choices. I'd lay good money down that Malcolm didn't try to talk to you about her just once, did he? I bet he tried a bunch but you shut him down every time, am I right?"

At my defiant expression he continues. "So? What would you have wanted him to do differently? Force you to discuss your mother, as he'd been doing for years, or respect your wishes and hope that one day you'd come around?"

He's right, dammit. I want to be angry -- no, I need to be angry. I need someone to direct all this turmoil onto.

"Fine. Whatever. But what the hell am I supposed to do now? Go running to Mommy Dearest and live happily ever after?"

I slump into him again, defeated and frustrated and still more than a little confused. I love the way he strokes my arm. It's so much more comforting than being petted like a grumpy puppy, the way Papi was doing it.

"Why not?"

"Um, because she's a pill-popping drunk? Because she always chose booze over me? Because she ruined my life?"

Drax's hand stops mid-stroke. "I know it feels that way, Lauren, but maybe there's another way to look at it. Your mother is an alcoholic and addict. Call it a disease, an allergy or whatever you want, it all boils down to power. As in, she has no power over any of it. Her addictions completely controlled her every move, every decision. She never loved the booze or the pills. In fact, I have no doubt she hated them. But they were the puppet masters and she was the doll dancing around to please them."

He pauses to let his words sink in before continuing.

"As for her choosing them over you and ruining your life...please. Girl, that woman had balls the size of Texas when she gave you up. Can you imagine how painful that must have been?"

I really can't believe what I'm hearing. "What are you talking about?! What kind of mother just gives away her baby?!"

"The kind of mother who loves her daughter so much that the very thought of subjecting her infant to the horrors of her daily life is out of the question. That poor woman fought her demons for nine months to ensure you were born healthy but she knew she didn't have the strength to resist them forever. Just imagine what your life would have been like if she'd never told your dad she was pregnant. My guess? You would have been in and out of foster homes...or worse. No, giving you up was the greatest gift she ever gave you."

Everything swims in front of me from the tears streaming down my face. I hate that he's right, but he is. I thought it myself earlier. The little snippets of time I did spend with my mother when I was younger gave me a pretty clear picture of what her days were like. I don't even want to think about the nights.

I think back to her expression when she recognized me earlier. It was pure love and understanding. That's why she didn't make a big deal about seeing me. She knew I needed time to adjust. My heart clenches and for the first time in a decade, a spark of hope gleams there. Maybe there's a chance for some kind of relationship with her after all.

"How can you know all this? Did you talk to her?" I whisper into his ever-dampening shirt.

He hugs me tight and a sob escapes me. I love him. I do. I fought it for so long but, really, I knew the moment he kissed me. I can't believe I'm really here with this amazing man.