My pulse accelerates and my breathing grows shallow.

I lived here. For five years. Long ago. With my mom and dad. And then I was gone, what I thought was my family gone, and I don’t really know why it happened.

I push away the new memories that stir caused by seeing the house again. It’s too much to take, being here and having more flashing images. Having them be happy and clear and real. Not false memories, as I’ve often wondered, but true moments of my life.

“Are you all right?” Bobby asks.

I startle. For a moment I forgot he was in the car, the emotions crashing through me so powerful they blocked out all awareness of even his intense gaze studying me until he spoke.

I unbuckle my seat belt. “I want to go in.”

He shakes his head, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I’ll be fine. It’ll be fine,” I say, struggling to keep the emotion from my face. “I don’t think Alan’s here. No one will know. I just want to see inside.”

He opens his door and comes around the car to open mine. We hurry up the walkway only to be stopped by a heavy locked gate.

Bobby turns to me. “We’re going to have to ring, Kaley. We can’t get any farther than this. Maybe we should go.”

I debate pressing the call button on the intercom and then see the wall panel for security codes. I rush toward it and stare at the numbered keys. Shit, what would the code be? Something he’d remember. I punch in Alan’s birthday. No bueno. It’s state-of-the-art security. I can see cameras everywhere. They probably advised Alan against anything obvious. Maybe this isn’t going to be easy.

I start to punch again, frown, and then still my fingers above the panel. “How many times do you think I can get it wrong before the security company is notified?”

Bobby rakes a hand through his hair. “Fuck, I don’t know. They might have already been called. Come on, Kaley. Let’s get out of here.”

“What do you think Alan would use as a code?”

“Who knows? And we can’t stand here all morning with you trying anything without someone seeing us.”

Crap, Bobby is right.

I step back from the panel.

I just want to go in.

The damn place looks unchanged, so exact in every detail to my memories. There’s got to be things inside, familiar things, that might explain some of my questions.

Fuck, I hope there is.

I feel like I’m home, like I’m eight and this is where I should be. Nothing has changed…

My eyes widen.

Oh no, it wouldn’t be that simple.

I punch in another code.

A loud buzz and the gate slowly opens on its own.

Bobby follows me into the atrium, frowning. “What did you do? How did you know the code?”

I lift my brows. “Not exactly rocket science, Bobby. My mom’s birthday. It was a long shot but logical.”

I cut through the large front patio crowded with potted plants, fire pits, fountains and stylish outdoor furniture, and stop at the tall, glass double doors to the main house. Code panel again. Perfect. I don’t need a key. I type in mom’s birthday. A click and the doors unlatch.

Bingo.

We’re in.

The foyer is pristine white and polished marble floors, the high-ceiling walls speckled with large canvases protected by glass from the sea air. There is not a single unfamiliar item anywhere. Ten years. Alan hasn’t changed so much as the art.

I falter at the edge of the giant living area overlooking the beach and Pacific Ocean. Black and white plush California-chic furnishings, natural wood tables, more floor-to-ceiling art, dark floors that look like stylized concrete, instruments everywhere, and framed pictures cluttering surfaces.

This room is exactly the same.

“It’s like this house has been sealed in Cryovac.”

Bobby shrugs, wandering around, pausing occasionally to study something. “He hasn’t lived here in ten years. Why would he change the house?”

“I don’t know. But it’s sort of creepy how not different it is.”

My eyes lock on the pictures crowding a side table and I sink to sit on my knees. I lift one up, turning to smile at Bobby. “This is my mom. God, she must have been only in her twenties here. Wasn’t she beautiful when she was young?”

Bobby looks and nods. “Your mom is still beautiful.” He drops a kiss on my curls. “Just like you.”

I set it back and study the others. “Why would all these pictures be here? It’s weird. It’s like a family photo arrangement, something Mom would do, only we’re not a family and never were.”

Bobby’s gaze sharpens on my face. “You were once. That’s what you should take away from seeing this. Whatever happened it didn’t happen because Alan didn’t love you. He wouldn’t still have pictures of you everywhere if he didn’t care about you.”

I sink my teeth into my lower lip to keep my emotions in check. Dazed, I move my gaze slowly around the room, and realize in disappointment that Bobby is wrong, there are no answers here, only more questions.

I turn and find him across the room, a guitar in hand, examining something. I spring to my feet and close the space between us, and then look at what’s captured his attention. An inexpertly drawn picture in permanent black marker near the bridge.

My eyes go wide. “Oh crap. I did that.”

I don’t know how I know it; I just do.

Bobby lets out a soft whistle. “Unbelievable. This is a fucking gorgeous instrument. Worth a fortune. I can’t even imagine how pissed Alan was to find that. I bet you got into a heap of trouble.”

My eyes narrow on the drawing.

Oh fuck, I remember it clearly.

I make a face and work to sound casual about this. “A lot you know. I showed it to him when I finished it. I was very proud. All he did was kiss me on the forehead and say, ‘Thank you. That’s a lovely picture. Go tell your mum what you did.’ Which I didn’t because Mom would have blown.”

Bobby beats back a smile. “Sneaky even back then.”

I lift my face toward Bobby with what I can feel is a gigantic smile. “No, smart. Alan never got mad about anything. And he never tattled on me either. When I was bad he’d tell me to tell my mom and I wouldn’t do it and he’d still not get mad.”

I start laughing. Bobby’s eyes twinkle as he sets down the guitar and then, before I know how it happens, I’m crying.

Bobby quickly folds me into his arms. “Shush, Kaley. Don’t do this to yourself.”

I nuzzle into his chest. “I didn’t expect it to feel this way being here. It doesn’t feel awful. It feels good. And I don’t understand. I thought—”

Tears trap my words inside me.

Bobby’s mouth moves through my hair in light, comforting kisses. “You thought what?”

I take a moment to let myself calm.

“I always assumed that whatever happened between my mom and Alan, I made myself forget. That it had to be awful for everything to change in our life so quickly, too awful for me to remember. But my memories are good. Nothing terrible happened in this house. We were happy together here. Somehow it makes it harder, all the unanswered questions and that one day I had two parents loving me and then I didn’t.”

With his thumbs Bobby brushes at the dampness on my cheeks. “You shouldn’t be sad that your memories are good. What happened in your parents’ past has nothing to do with you. That you don’t know the unpleasant parts of their history is a clear indication how much they both love you, Kaley.”

I sniffle and nod.

He’s right; I just can’t change how it makes me feel.

I slowly breathe in and out to steady myself.

“When I was really little, I used to call Alan ‘Daddy.’ I didn’t remember that until today either. Standing here I can see us together, like watching a film. All the frames three-sixty perspective. He’d carry me, I was like three, and I’d slap his face saying, ‘Daddy. Daddy. Don’t want to leave the beach. Want to play.’ And my mom would flush and get nervous and try to take me from him, so I’d say it more and Alan would just smile and whisper in my ear, ‘No, love, we’re just good friends.’”