We hit LA on Sunday, shortly after eight.

Carlos made a few stops during the drive, stopping to fill up the tank and buy some food at a gas station in Santa Cruz, then some hours later in Santa Barbara to take a short nap, which was more than understandable considering the drive took about fourteen hours.

I'm actually beyond surprised he didn't want to spend the night in another motel somewhere along the way and decided to make it all in one go. Most people, me included, wouldn't be able to hold their attention up to par for so long. Driving across two states has to be beyond exhausting. Hell, I'm exhausted and I'm not even the one sitting behind the wheel.

My stomach is in knots, has been for quite some time now, ever since we left Portland early in the morning, and the closer we get inside the city, the worse it gets. Part of me wishes I didn't have to come back. Didn't have to face the mess I've left behind, but I know that's just my wishful thinking. I don't know what to do first, whether going straight home – to my mother's house – or going back to my father's place is the better option. Both of them had been lying to me, keeping secrets and on top of that, there's also Rose who I know I'm bound to face at some point. And Aspen. And Timothy.

And I don't know what to expect.

I guess Carlos senses my apprehension because he asks, "So, where do you want me to take you?"

Away from here. Anywhere that's not here.

But I'm done running from my problems. I've been doing that for far too long and I know if I don't try to dig myself out this time around at least, I might get stuck in this cycle, forever looping in it until there's really no way out.

I breathe out heavily. "Which option feels better to you? They both suck. Either of them is going to leave you interrogated by one of two people you've been avoiding, so."

He squirms his shoulders up a little, clearly in discomfort just thinking about it. I don't really blame him. He fucked it up with his brother and he clearly still has feelings for my mother. Like I said, both options suck.

"I think it doesn't really matter at this point. I can bear a few minutes of torture." He looks over at me, side of his mouth curling up a little.

I roll my eyes at him, snorting out a laugh. "Russian roulette it is then."

And Russian roulette it is. Even though not in a way I'd think. Because instead of pulling in front of my mother's house, we pull up in front of my father's place.

"Not my mom's?" I ask him, surprised at his choice. I thought that's the option he'd pick.

"Your father will be a hard nut to crack. I think he's the worse option for you, so consider yourself damn lucky I'm saving your ass. Again." And with that, he cuts the engine off and gets out, slamming the door behind him.

I look over at the house, sighing, then I follow Carlos and get out. I don't have to worry about snatching a bag from the backseat because I don't have any. Even the shirt I'm wearing right now isn't mine.

We're waiting at the door sooner than I'd like to. "Just let me do the talking," Carlos tells me, ringing the doorbell.

Part of me feels a tiny swell in my chest at that. I'm glad he still has my back, just like he did years ago. But the other part, the responsible one, doesn't want him to. I'm an adult. I can fight my own battles.

The door swings open and before Carlos has a chance to even as much as take a breath, I blurt out. "I'm sorry." I'm not really but I know saying that to him, acting submissive and shit will make him much more complying. I can bear putting my pride aside for a while if that means he doesn't kill me. I've done this before, vanished for a couple days but it was always somewhere in Los Angeles, on someone's couch. Not for longer than a week. After wreaking a havoc.

He looks at me briefly, his eyes not staying for long before giving his full attention to Carlos. Carlos doesn't move. Neither of them says anything for several seconds and I start to wonder if I should cut in and say something to break the tension.

But then my father breaks it with, "San Francisco, huh? You couldn't bother to give me a call? Send a text?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Carlos swallow before taking a deep breath. "Collin's an adult. I'm not a total asshole to go against someone else's wishes and purposefully meddle in their business, and I figured he'd reach out on his own if he wanted to."

My father laughs. "That's a bit hypocritical coming from you, don't you think? Why the sudden change of heart?" The smile on his lips freezes as he lowers his voice, baring his teeth a little. "You didn't seem to have a problem with meddling where you weren't supposed to back in the day, brother."

Leal's taunting him, that much is clear. I don't know when was the last time they actually spoke to one another but witnessing their exchange right now, especially from my father's angle, I'd say it never even came to that. It's as if they never even talked about what happened, about why it happened. Nothing.

Carlos is rendered speechless, the wave of guilt sweeping over his face once again. He could fight back if he wanted. He could try to defend himself. Explain. Just like he did with me back in Portland. Anything. But instead, he just stands there, looking at his brother, breathing calmly. Too calmly. Maybe he knows this battle is already lost and there's no point in trying to fight back.

"I honestly don't get it." I'm not sure what takes over me but my mouth is running before I fully think it through. "How's this going to change anything? You can't stand each other because of something that happened sixteen years ago and I doubt the outcome will be any different if you keep on lashing at one another instead of talking it out. Which, I doubt is going to happen, so why don't we all go inside and –" And what? I'd have to be totally delusional to think my father would invite uncle Carlos inside his house. He can't bear looking at him without having his entire face contort with anger so what business would Carlos have inside with him? Silently staring at each other over a cup of coffee until one of them snaps and this whole situation turns into an even bigger pile of shit? I mean, is that even possible at this point? Can their strained relationship get worse than this?

"It's late, Collin." Carlos tells me but we both know this is just his way of trying to veer out of this uncomfortable situation before my father throws another remark into his face. "I'll just crash in a motel somewhere downtown for the night before I hit the road tomorrow. I'm pretty tired."

Despite my best efforts, my throat constricts and I have trouble swallowing.

No. He can't go.

He can't go before he has the chance to talk to Rose. Or to see her after almost three years. I can't let him get away again because if he gets to San Francisco and things go back to how they were, who knows when she'll find out that he's her real father. If ever.

It's like he forgot I threatened him with telling her before I left for Portland. As if his explanation regarding his history with my mom gave him an excuse as to why he cannot, in any case, do it. Which is utter bullshit. I might understand where he's coming from, and I also respect him for respecting my mother enough to keep his promise to not contact Rose as anything other than her uncle, but enough is enough. My mother shouldn't be the one keeping all of them in check, silent and complying with what she thinks might be the best for Rose – or for herself, really – but is actually the opposite.

"Actually," I tell them absentmindedly, keeping up the pretense I know I need in order to get them where I want, "I changed my mind. I need you to drop me off at Mom's place. You're going in that direction either way."

They both know I can be a manipulative asshole when I need to be. I've proven myself countless times. Doing it again, in order to achieve a bigger purpose here, doesn't really make that much of a difference. Still, I expect Carlos to put up a fight, to tell me off, to tell me I'm behaving like a disrespectful little shit after everything that he has done for me in the span of the last few days.

However, the only reaction I get from him is a slight tilt of his head to the side as he narrows his dark eyes at me. He knows exactly where I'm going with this.

Then, he nearly knocks the damn breath out of me when he mutters, "Sure. No problem. But I think it shouldn't be just us two. Leal should join us, too. I'm sure there's a lot he can add in."

He didn't bow. He's playing along with the game I just happened to set him up for and he's striking back.

* * * 

I'm not sure why uncle Carlos wanted my father to come along, too, but it's pretty obvious that my father doesn't want to be here. He tried arguing with Carlos but Carlos pulled out another 'gun' of his and told him I needed a ride back to his place once I grabbed my stuff, and since he would go straight to a motel after this – whatever this was about to be—was done, Leal had to come. Mom wouldn't let me stay at her place, in the same space with Rose after the shit I pulled and I'd still be damn lucky if Rose didn't throw a fit and jump me for sending her little prick of a boyfriend into the hospital. Just thinking about it all again makes my fists clench.

"So, how do you wanna do this?" Carlos asks as he puts the car in park in front of my mother's house, not cutting the engine off just yet. "You clearly have some hidden agenda here and honestly? It's not that hard to figure out what it is. So, how do you wanna do this? Because there's no chance for this little stubborn stunt of yours to play out any differently than in creating a havoc."

He breathes out, cracking his knuckles while looking off at the house, transfixed. "But then again," he continues, still not looking at me, "I guess that's exactly what you want, isn't it? To create some more chaos on top of everything else so it's not just you drowning in it all alone, despite what we've talked about back in Portland."

My fists are still clenched at my sides but they've come loose a little. His words piss me of though, because he couldn't be more wrong in his assumptions. I don't get how he can think, even for a fraction of a second, that all I'm doing this for is to set everything into shambles. If anything, I'm trying to make it right. Fix it, in any way that's possible. I would've thought he guessed that much, exactly because of the conversation we've had back in Portland.

Sure, I could've found a different way, a different angle, but it's not like I had much of a choice in the matter. Carlos would never come here willingly if I told him beforehand, and by tomorrow morning, he'd be already on his way, trying to get away from LA as fast as possible. There's no guarantee he is going to stay in contact with me once he's back in San Francisco. What difference would him ignoring my calls make when he already did it before?

"You got it all wrong," I tell him, moving to open the door. "I'm finally fixing shit." And then I step out, slamming the door behind me. He can think whatever. I'm just doing what neither of them – or my mother, for that matter – had the guts to do for several years.

My father's car is parked right behind Carlos's. He doesn't seem to be getting out though. I contemplate going to him and knocking on the driver's window but then decide against it. He's been cornered into this and knowing him, that doesn't mean anything good. Leal Adamms doesn't like to be told what to do. I guess we're alike in that. Only, this time around, he's not the one to be calling the shots.

My hand disappears inside the pocket of my hoodie on an instinct, fumbling for the box that's usually there before my brain catches up. Fuck. I could use a cigarette right now.

Sadly, I don't have any on me, so the only remaining thing for me to do to take my mind elsewhere and calm myself a little is pathetically pushing the gravel near the curb with the tip of my sneaker. Shit is going to hit the fan. I know it is. But it's too late to go back now.

I hear the door slam shut behind me as Carlos gets out, joining me, but I'm still looking at my father, who's now following our lead, his feet dragging slowly against the grass as if that could actually prevent this from happening. He's not looking at either of us, his eyes cast downwards and that's all I need to push forward.

It's a little strange, being the youngest out of the three of us and also being the one in the control but even though there's responsibility tied to that, someone's gotta do it.

I don't ring the bell. And I don't knock. I unlock the door the same way I'd done a million times before when I was still living here, instead of being ping-ponged between my parents. It's just past nine and the lights are on, the TV in the living room running faintly, so I know everyone's most likely home. Mom works night-shifts but Sundays are usually her days off.

And sure enough, her head pops out from the kitchen, peeking around the doorframe upon the commotion in the hallway. Her eyes meet mine and she freezes, sound of something cluttering down to the floor following right after. She bends down and picks it up, putting it back on the counter most likely, and then she's back in front of me again, her small body filling up the entrance to the kitchen.

"What is this?" She's addressing me, I think, although her eyes are on the two men behind me, no doubt.

I swallow. Here we fucking go. "I think it's time we all had a little chat. Rose home?"

She blinks, "What?" Her eyes moving to me. "What's going on, Collin?"

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "We need to talk, Mom." How do I explain this to her without sounding like a total moron? "About you, Carlos, my father . . . and Rose. She deserves to know the truth."

If I didn't think she looked about ready to faint before, she definitely looks it now, when it finally hits her. She backs up a step, like an animal attempting to retreat into safety, shaking her head wildly. "What? What are you – What are you talking about?"

Acting stupid isn't going to help you. Not anymore.

I hate being an asshole. On purpose. But I'm just so done with their shit. I get that she's probably shocked but she had to know this would come one day. I mean, she couldn't just expect everyone to keep silent for the rest of their lives, living a lie and feeding it down everyone else's throat, too. Could she? I see it in her eyes though. That's exactly what she hoped for.

It only adds fuel to the fire already burning hot and strong inside me, making the contempt I know I shouldn't feel for her after everything she's done for me over the years grow. Maybe that's why I don't acknowledge her desperate question and take a step inside the living room, yelling as loud as my constricted throat can manage. "Rose! Get down here!"

"Please," my mother whispers through the hand that's now clamped over her mouth, "Please, don't do this."

"Dianna. . ." Carlos starts from behind me but I don't let him finish. She can't be fucking serious. "Rose!" I yell again, hearing my voice echo through the house as I strain my ears to hear any sound from upstairs. It's silent. I try again, "I know you're mad at me, Rose, but we need you down here. It's important."

"Collin," my father speaks up for the first time since we entered the house, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Maybe we should just leave it al—"

"No." I jerk away from him, hardening my jaw as I turn around to face him. "I'm sick of all the bullshit lies. I'm sick of you all keeping secrets and acting like there's nothing wrong with it."

"Oh, yeah?" He gets in my face. "We're sick of your lies, too. You think you can just barge in here after you've been missing for more than a week, not telling anyone anything, and then pull this shit? You really think telling her like this is right? You think she deserves to find out like this?"

He's seething the same way I imagine I am. I'm not scared of him, though. I don't budge. "She deserves to know." She does. He might be right. This might not be the best way to break it to her but it's about time she knew. If I know one thing for sure, then it's that they'll never be ready to tell her. They've grown comfortable in living the lie and they would do anything to let it stay that way.

Rose might hate me for what I did to Roger. She might hate me for being a junkie and nearly dying in a car crash twice. She might hate me for all the lies and secrets and everything I've kept from her but I'm not about to get stuck in their game of play-pretend. And if she hates me for telling her the truth, for being the only person in her life to do what's necessary, then so be it. I can manage some more of her hate, for as long as it lasts. She'll come around. I know she will.

"You're right, she does." My father says more calmly, trying to reason with me. "But not like this."

"What's going on?" Just then a voice asks, making both my father and me flinch. Well, too late, I think as I direct my gaze to the staircase, seeing Rose looking at us with a confused expression seated on her face. She must be probably thinking I just got into it with Leal again, judging by the way we're in each other's face. Nothing unusual for us. But there's also anger in her eyes on top of the confusion. She's looking from me to Leal to Carlos to my mother, trying to take it all in and make sense of the situation.

But then something inside her switches on and she marches straight towards me, lifting her chin up in defiance before she raises her arm and slaps me. Right in front of everyone.

My head jerks to the side a little and I hear Mom gasp, "Rose!" but I'm so riled up I'm barely paying it any attention.

I veer back, staring down at her, not saying anything as she slams her small hands into my chest, attempting to shove me backwards but failing because she's not that strong. "Get out," she grits through her teeth. "Get the fuck out, Collin."

No one says anything. They just stand there like silent morons, watching the situation unfold, probably too thrown off, or too scared to step in. They've never witnessed her anger this way but her anger is nothing compared to mine.

"No." I say, loud and clear.

She looks up at me, the pressure of her hands on my chest loosening. "No?"

"I'm not leaving." I tell her and step around her, heading for the couch. I'm trying. I'm trying so hard to keep it as civilized as possible. Despite how angry I'm feeling inside. The side of my cheek where she slapped me still stings a little but I guess I deserved that. Not really, but in her fucked-up version of love where Roger is the poor victim while I'm the bad guy, maybe. "Can we all just sit down and talk about this calmly?"

"I'm not going to sit down and talk with you calmy about anything." Rose is the first one to retort. But no one else makes the move to actually sit down either.

I swipe my eyes through all of them, stopping at Mom. She looks about ready to cry. It's fucking hard to push through that because I always hated seeing her cry but I've disappointed her several times already, so this won't make that much of a difference if she decides to hate me, too. I'm holding up hope though. If anything, Mom has always been willing to listen, no matter what bullshit I threw at her, so maybe, she'll come to understand I'm doing this so things can change for the better. That's why I'm holding her gaze as I speak, "We're a fucked-up family but we're still family. La familia lo es todo. She deserves to know."

Family is everything. That's what both of my parents used to tell us all the time growing up, before things got totally fucked, anyway.

Then I turn my eyes back on Rose, "You don't have to sit if you don't want to but you have to listen to me. Or should want to, anyway, because I can give you an answer to the question that's been always eating at you. Why my father treats you differently. Why he never acknowledges you." I look behind her, going for his eyes as I speak the next words, directing it to him. "Why he acts like you don't exist."

Rose is just standing in the middle of the living room, her chest heaving because of how hard she's actually breathing, and for once, I'm not sure whether she wants me to go on and give her the answers I know she's been looking for, or not. Her life won't be the same after this moment. Everything will change. I can't give her the promise that it'll change for the better but I want to believe that. I want to have faith in all of us. We can make it, or at least try to make it better this time around.

"I know I haven't been the easiest to deal with over the past few years," I start, looking at her even though my words are addressed to all of them. "I've been fucking up a lot. Getting into fights, messing around with drugs, doing a lot, and I mean a lot of stupid shit. I actually got high in Portland." I cast my eyes downward, swallowing hard because admitting to all the shit isn't that easy when it really comes down to it. "That's where I had gone after visiting Carlos in San Francisco. I ended up on the street, and lost all of my shit. My wallet, my credit card, my ID, my dignity, you name it. I don't have an excuse but I had my reasons. We can talk about me later because I'm sure that each of you is dying to say something about it. But right now? I want to make this right first."

I'd have expected one of them jump in by now but they still haven't said anything. So I push on. Momentarily closing my eyes, taking a deep breath before looking back up at Rose again. "I wish I figured out a better way to tell you. But then again, it shouldn't even be me who's telling you in the first place. You should've known a long time ago. From one of them. I tried to blackmail them into telling you when I found out, well, Carlos and my father, anyway. Which again, isn't the best way I could've gone about it but I did and it still didn't change anything. So, I guess we're here now and I'm the asshole." She's going to hate me for this. She's going to hate all of us. "Leal isn't your biological father, Rose. Carlos is."

* 
DON'T FORGET TO VOTE (AND PERHAPS COMMENT AND LET ME KNOW HOW YOU LIKED THIS CHAPTER) PLEASE? :) thank you!

a/n: i've been pretty busy these past weeks with everything career-wise (music and acting and writing etc etc) going on in my life and it's a lot, honestly, to try to stay consistent and find time for finishing this book. anyway, THE MERCILESS BLACKLIST OF HIGHLAND HIGH is getting ready for publishing and should be out sometime in MAY!!!! say whaaat??? so yeah, life's pretty crazy right now and i really feel like i need a huge-ass break to just sleep for like, three whole days because it's been so so damn long since i had more than 6 hours of sleep on average. anyway, hope you guys are taking care of yourselves. please, don't forget to take care of yourselves. it's very important and i need to remind myself more of that as well. love you, always. 

till next chapter, 

nessa <3