A Waltz With Wolves (Book II in The Harrison Inc. Series) | ✓

Chapter Twenty-Two: Far From Fine

**

I expected to regain my composure when I got into my apartment. Well, I can confess without shame that I did the opposite of that.

Pedro ran to me and knew something was wrong—I had just found out that my real mother is somewhere out in the world, so it's without guilt that I would be in the wrong element. I gave Pedro some TLC before going to my kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine.

"No," I mumbled, slowly setting the bottle back down on the counter. "I've already drank too much tonight."

Instead, I went into my living room and turned on my TV and went through my DVR until I found an episode of Say Yes to the Dress already pre-recorded. Pedro sat by my side as I started the episode, but I couldn't focus. Relaxation should have been the priority; I act irrationally when I'm stressed. My hand tightened around the remote until I couldn't handle the pressure. I shot up and got my laptop from the dining room table.

"Jamie McLelland," I typed into google. Of course, the millions of search results weren't going to help me. I didn't even know what she looked like. Do I look like her? Does she even have a Facebook? Does she still live in Scotland?

I sifted through google results for an hour, missing the entire Say Yes to the Dress episode and pissing Pedro off since I was compromising his "me" time. I didn't know who I was looking for, but something in me told me that I wasn't finding anything. I gave up on the one-hundredth or so social media profile and thought it would be a good idea to call my father without a warning or heads up on his end. I doubt my mother told him that I found out who Jamie was.

"Hello?" he picked up. He didn't sound tired or groggy, so I assumed that I didn't wake him up.

"Dad," I said. I didn't say anything else; I didn't know what to say next.

"Sweetheart." I felt his smile through the phone. "What's up? Is something troubling you?"

"Um, no," I ran my fingers across the couch fabric. "Actually, I...yes. Something is."

And then I rambled on like a preacher, telling him everything I knew about Jamie and everything my mother told me. He didn't say anything until I was finished; it took three minutes for me to stop talking and start crying again. I tried to hold my tears in but they spilled out regardless.

"Christ," is all he replied, breathing it out like he was holding it in for as long as I spoke. There was a static-sound shortly after; he was rubbing his beard, for sure. My dad always rubbed his beard when he was stressed. Always.

"Is it true?" I asked him. He sighed again, and I expected him to at least lie about it. But him admitting it so openly hit me harder than him lying to my face.

"Honey, this...this wasn't something I wanted to tell you over the phone," my father said. "I...I didn't...there's much m—"

"—more to this than I understand?" I finished for him.

"Aye," he responded after a stretch of silence. I didn't know what to say after that. We just sat in quiet for a while, listening to each other breathe, afraid that the next words would destroy everything further.

"Leslie—"

"I need to go," I blurted out before hanging up. Not because I didn't want to hear his voice, but because I felt an anxiety attack coming on, and talking about the subject would only make it worse. As my lungs squeezed in my chest and my limbs turned into Jell-O, I rushed to the shower, stripped off my clothes and stood underneath the ice-cold water, letting it run through my hair as I locked myself in this chamber, surrounded in these thoughts and notions and ideas that controlled me and my sanity. I didn't know what to do, really. I didn't know who to turn to, either.