“And then Peter told him the truth, told him that I had been the one to track down the gas station attendant and the AD was so impressed that he didn’t even punish me for accessing their computer database without permission!” Veronica exclaimed happily.

Keith chuckled, shooting her an affection glance as he pushed the turn signal on and turned right down the road. They would be home in a few more minutes. Veronica was happy to see her father and she couldn’t wait to catch up with Mac and Wallace — e-mail was not good enough — but she couldn’t help but be a little sad to have finished her FBI internship.

Her solution was to talk her father’s ear off. The entire internship had been amazing: she had become good friends with her badass roommate Jenna; earned the respect of several of the agents she’d worked with; and even if she was stuck behind a tiny desk for most of the summer, she did get a chance to get her hands dirty.

She wanted to make sure she told her father every detail.

As an added bonus, if she was gushing about her internship, she and her father wouldn’t have to broach the painful topic that was the Sheriff election. Keith Mars was a P.I. once more and Neptune was under the care of Vinnie Van Lowe. Can you say going to hell in a hand basket?

“Honey,” Keith said, interrupting Veronica before she could even begin on her next story. “Before we get back to the house, there’s something I need to tell you.”

His voice was too serious. Veronica immediately tensed. “Okay. . . .”

“We have a guest at the house. She’s been staying with me for . . . for most of the summer, actually, and she’ll be staying for a while longer,” Keith began hesitantly.

“Alicia!” Veronica exclaimed. “Dad, I know I said I was happy that you two had started seeing each other again — I always hated the way you just fell apart — but seriously, Dad, I think it’s a little too soon to be living together! And has anybody told Wallace? He gets back from Africa tomorrow. Did you keep it a secret all summer from him, too?”

“Wait! Wait! Slow down,” Keith said, turning into their apartment complex. “Alicia isn’t the guest. We are still dating and its going very well, but we’re not living together and we won’t be for a long time.”

Veronica frowned. If it wasn’t Alicia, then who was it?

“I know you’re going to be upset that I’m letting her stay with us . . . and that I didn’t tell you earlier, but Veronica, sweetie, this isn’t something I wanted to tell you over the phone and I didn’t want it to ruin your time in Virginia at all.” Keith parked the car.

“Who is it, Dad?” asked Veronica, an edge to her voice. This didn’t sound good.

“Your mom.”

Veronica found she was literally speechless for a moment. “Mom?” she slowly repeated. “My mom? As in Lianne Mars, the drunk who screwed us over two times? That mom?!” Anger was quickly crashing into Veronica in waves. She looked at the door to their apartment as if she expected Lianne to pop out of it right at that moment.

“Honey, she’s actually been sober for a while now,” said Keith slowly.

“You don’t honestly believe that do you?” Veronica snarled. He sighed, looking away from him. “You’re not getting back together with her, are you?” Veronica asked, horrified. “I thought you were happy with Alicia!” she accused.

“I AM happy with Alicia,” Keith told her, his face set as he turned to her. “I am not getting back with Lianne. I loved her once but that time has long since past. However, we’re the only family she has and —”

“She’s not our family,” Veronica spat.

“She’s your mother.”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Veronica replied, not missing a beat, “I don’t have a mother.” She and Keith stared at one another in a silent battle of wills. She couldn’t believe this. How could her father openly invite that woman into their home? As if things weren’t bad enough as it were. . . .

“I know you’re upset, Veronica. But I’ve made my decision. This is my home and I have a right to let important people in our lives stay in my home. You’re getting a dorm with Mac this year, right? You won’t even have to see her that often.”

“So you’re saying you don’t want me to come visit you?” Veronica challenged.

Keith let his gaze burn into her. “You know that’s not what I want. I hate having to part with you, even if it’s to let you have the ‘true college experience,’” he said softly. “There is no one in this world I love more than you, Veronica. But this woman . . . she’s your mother, she was my wife for years, and she’s scared and alone and she needs our help.”

Veronica looked away from him.

It didn’t deter him. “I am so proud of all that you are, Veronica. And I know you’ve seen a lot of horrible things, and I’m happy that you still chug along despite all those horrible things. But I’d hate to think I raised a daughter who was resilient but not decent.”

“And the only for me to be decent is to let the mother who abandoned me stay in my home?” asked Veronica, staring petulantly out the windshield of the car. She suddenly wasn’t so keen on going into the house.

“There are lots of ways to be decent. But it only takes one cruel action to keep someone from being decent. And turning your mother out at this point would be cruel, Veronica,” said Keith, “it’s that simple.”

“Why?” Veronica rounded on him. “Why do we have to let her stay with us? Why do we have to take care of her? Why should we be kind to her? Why does she need us so damn badly?”

“Because,” Keith sighed, “she’s pregnant.”

She knew that what Lianne Mars had told her was the truth. The look on her mom’s face as the truck pulled out of the driveway and Marlie turned breathlessly to face Veronica was proof enough.
 

“You’re not my mother?” Marlie breathed. That doesn’t even make any sense! her mind screamed. But then why had Lianne said that? And why was her mother looking at her like that?
 

“I am your mother, Marlie. I always have been and I always will be,” Veronica declared firmly. Her face softened, though, and she reached out a hand towards Marlie.
 

Marlie stepped back, her heart pounding loudly. “But not really,” Marlie accused, “not . . . biologically.” Veronica glanced away for a moment, and Marlie swallowed thickly. When her mother — when the woman who she had always thought was her mother — turned to face Marlie again, her jaw was set.
 

“No, not biologically,” Veronica answered. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Biologically you’re my half-sister. Lianne Mars is our mother. I don’t know who your real father is.”
 

Marlie didn’t know what to say. She could only stare. How had this happened so suddenly? How had a perfectly normal Wednesday night turned into this?
 

“My mom showed up out of the blue right after my twentieth birthday,” Veronica went on. “My dad and I hadn’t seen her since the end of my junior year of high school when she left us for the second time. I hated her for that, for leaving us twice, for the way she had become a drunk who cheated on my father, for stealing thousands and thousands of dollars from us. But she was six months pregnant and my dad couldn’t say no to her. She had no where else to go. He let her stay with us.”
 

“And what, you stole her baby?” Marlie exclaimed in disbelief. But no, she knew what was coming next.
 

“No, Marlene,” Veronica replied. “Our wonderful mother left a third time. But she left you behind. And . . . and you became mine.”
 

Marlie didn’t know how to respond. What was she supposed to say? How was she supposed to react to this? She knew one thing: she couldn’t stand there in that driveway talking to her mother for another moment. “I . . . I can’t do this right now,” she said, her voice tight.
 

“Marlie,” Veronica murmured, reaching for her again. “Come inside; we need to talk about this.”
 

Marlie backed away from her for a second time. “You’re not my mother,” she said, still trying to grasp the concept. Veronica just stood there, and maybe if had been lighter out, maybe if Marlie could have more easily seen and read the expression on her face, she wouldn’t have run.
 

But it was dark, she couldn’t see more than shadows on Veronica’s face, and she did run. She turned and ran, even as the lights of a car appeared ahead and a moment later Keith and Alicia turned into the driveway. Marlie didn’t pause. She kept running.
 

She went down a mental list of people to whom she could talk, from whom she could seek refuge if even for only one night. She couldn’t deal with her mom. She just couldn’t. The woman wasn’t even her mom!
 

She couldn’t go to her dad, either. He wasn’t actually her dad.
 

If she were honest with herself that was probably what broke her heart the most at that moment. Her dad, her beloved snarky father who loved surfing as much as her grandpa loved baseball, her wonderful, wonderful Daddy . . . wasn’t even related to her. He was just her sister’s husband.
 

She couldn’t face him. She couldn’t go to her grandpa either. He wasn’t actually related to her either. He was simply her real mother’s ex-husband. She couldn’t deal with him, with that, right now. Besides, Veronica was probably with him and Alicia.
 

None of her friends would understand. She wasn’t one of those kids who were close with the neighbors or with her teachers. She didn’t have a boyfriend. Who did she go to? She thought briefly of Sam but discarded the thought quickly. A good answer didn’t take too long to occur to her, however; he wasn’t biologically related to her, but he never had been and that made it a hell of a lot easier to know, steadfastly, that he was her uncle.
 

It was her aunt Penny who opened the door. “Marlie? What’s the matter?” Aunt Penny immediately asked, stepping forward with her brow creased in concern. Marlie knew she must look terrible; she had run all the way to the bus stop and then taken the rather gross public transportation to the house. She hadn’t started crying, though. That was something in her favor.
 

“Is Uncle Wally home?” she asked. She hadn’t called him Uncle Wally in a long time, not since she was a little girl. But right at that moment she felt like a little girl, and she wanted her big, strong, playful Uncle Wally to comfort her.
 

“Of course, of course,” Aunt Penny said, allowing Marlie to enter the house. “He’s in the kitchen. . . .” Marlie made a beeline in the direction, but she didn’t make it all the way there before her uncle Wallace appeared in the doorway, looking slightly confused.
 

“Hey, girl,” he greeted, “what are you doing over here this late?”
 

Suddenly she felt tears welling in her eyes. His confusion turned to concern and she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and sobbing into his shoulder. “Hey, hey,” he soothed, “it’s okay, it’s okay.” She clutched at him as they stood there in the hallway. He knew the truth; he had to know it. He had known her mom for years. He had to know that she wasn’t her mother’s daughter.
 

She wasn’t an Echolls.
 

Eventually she calmed down and Aunt Penny got her to sit at the kitchen table with a glass of chocolate milk while she cut a slice of cheese cake for her. Uncle Wallace was sitting beside her at the table, obviously biting at the bit to ask what was going on, but he seemed to know he wouldn’t get anything out of her. All she had told him was that she had to get away from her house.
 

The phone rang. Uncle Wallace picked it up at the same time Aunt Penny set the cake down in front of Marlie. She gave her aunt a small smile of thanks, even as she winced when she heard her uncle Wallace say into the phone, “Hey, V.” It was her mom calling. She’s not my mom. Of course she would call here. She must have gone through the same thought process that Marlie had.
 

She could feel Uncle Wallace’s eyes on her as she mechanically ate the cake and he talked on the phone, but she didn’t meet his gaze. Instead her eyes landed on the kitchen window. It was so dark out that her reflection, though a little distorted, could be seen on the glass. She stared for a moment. Her blonde hair had much more of a curl to it than Veronica’s but it was still the very same color blonde, and her blue eyes might be a shade closer to green than Veronica’s but they were still eerily similar. She didn’t look anything like Logan Echolls.
 

How come she had never noticed that before?
 

Well, she had, but. . . . He had once told her that she didn’t have any of his looks because she had his attitude. She had been around eleven at the time. “Bailey says that babies look a lot like their dads the first year of their lives. Did I look like you when I was a baby?” she’d asked him with open, honest curiosity. She was rather obsessed with her dad at that time; he was her best friend then.
 

He’d been quiet for a long time, his eyes frozen on the paper. Why hadn’t that seemed suspicious at the time? She had only been eleven, but still! “Baby, you’re a clone of your mom. Always have been,” he’d finally answered, before added softly, “and I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
 

The sound of her uncle Wallace hanging up the phone drew her attention away from the reflection and to him. “That was your mom,” he told her unnecessarily.
 

She knew that he must have been told what happened, and she couldn’t help the bitter response that she spat. “Which one?” He was silent for a moment, and his steady stare nearly had her ashamed at the two words.
 

“Your real one,” he finally answered. “The one who’s been taking care of you since the day you were born. The one who raised you. The one who would do anything for you. Your mom.”
 

“The one who lied to me,” Marlie added. “You forgot that.”
 

But he didn’t respond to that. Maybe that’s why she had come here. After all, there had been a few other options — Aunt Mac, for example. She knew that with Uncle Wallace, though, she wouldn’t be pestered. After all the years he’d spent being Veronica’s best friend, Wallace Fennel had become an expert at waiting patiently to be confided in.
 

“You mom said you can stay here tonight if you want,” he told her softly. “I think she knows you need space.” He paused. “I’ll go pick up some clothing for you. You still have school tomorrow, you know.”
 

Marlie wasn’t sure about a lot of things at that moment, but she was positive about one: she was most certainly not going to school the next day.
 

Logan Echolls, despite having known her for the better part of his life, had still only seen his wife cry a handful of times. And every single time, it still managed to shock him, break his heart, and piss him off at whoever had caused it.
 

But how could he be pissed at his daughter? “And she just . . . just ran, Logan, she just ran away! The way she was looking at me — I did it all for her!” Veronica wailed. “I was trying to keep her from going through what I went through! I wasn’t trying to hurt her!”
 

“I know,” he said softly, rubbing her back as she clutched at him on the couch, tears streaming down her face, her nose running, and her tiny body rocking with soft sobs. She had come home an hour later than he’d been expecting. She’d been without Marlie and she’d looked as if she’d been hit by a bus . . . emotionally, at least.
 

The entire story had tumbled out of her and she’d fallen into his arms crying. He knew a part of her tears was due to hormones — Veronica tended to get either very, very bitchy when she was hormonal or very, very weepy. Being weepy and actually weeping were two very different things, though.
 

But he also knew some of her tears were due to how it had all finally come out. He had always known that sometime the truth would be revealed; Veronica had known the same. He had always imagined, however, that they would be the ones to sit her down and tell her the truth someday. It had never occurred to him that Lianne would ever come back . . . especially not after all these years.
 

“So she’s with Wallace?” he asked her. She nodded into his chest. “She’ll be fine there. We can talk with her tomorrow.” That didn’t seem to be much comfort to Veronica. She continued sobbing into his chest.
 

“Do you know what she said?” Veronica cried. “She said — she said — she just looked right at me and said ‘you’re not my mother.’ And then she ran away! The way she was looking at me, I just — I just —!” she hiccoughed, unable to finish.
 

“Hey, hey,” Logan said, pulling away from her long enough to look into her eyes. He wiped away the tears on her face with his thumb, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “You are her mother, Veronica. I’m her father. We’re her parents. That will never change. She knows that and even if Lianne is back, it doesn’t change anything. We’re still her parents.”
 

“I know,” Veronica whispered sadly. She looked up at him with her eyes that were wide and innocent as he so rarely saw them. “But I just hope she knows that I . . . how much I. . . .”
 

“How much you love her?” Logan offered. Veronica nodded, sniffling. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “She knows,” he whispered into her hair as his hand rubbed soothingly up and down her back. “She knows.”
 

Veronica couldn’t be bothered to knock.

She slid the card key in and out with ease and then pushed the door open. She was met with the site of Dick Casablancas wearing nothing but a towel around his waist and drinking milk straight from the carton. Great. Exactly what she wanted to deal with.

“Ronnie!” Dick exclaimed. “A whole summer away from the rich California dudes make your horny? Already back for more?”

“Where’s Logan?” Veronica asked, ignoring his comments. She had long ago become immune to all things Dick Casablancas. She crossed the room and stuck her head into his bed room; he wasn’t there.

“Now, Ronnie, I really think you need to leave Logan alone. You’ve ridden that one into the ground.”

“Where is he?” Veronica insisted, grinding her teeth. Her insides were in tumult at that moment; she could barely see straight for all of the anger and anxiety and confusion and shock and . . . everything. “I need to talk to him.”

“Are you pregnant?” Dick asked, still smiling.

“And if I am?” she snarled. “Are you really going to let the woman carrying your best buddy’s heir do whatever she wants with the child? Or are you going to TELL ME WHERE HE IS?!”

“What?”

Veronica spun around to see Logan standing in the doorway beside a tween-aged girl staring with an open, round mouth and holding his hand. “Veronica?” Logan asked. “Are you . . . ?”

“Pregnant?” she said, shocked. How had she gotten herself into this conversation, again? “NO! I’m not pregnant! I’m not!” She shouldn’t have come here. It was a mistake. This had been the first place to which she’d turned for comfort; it had been pure instinct, and apparently it was proof that her instinct was badly out of tune.

“Then what are you . . . ?” Logan began. His tween friend — Veronica had met her once, she thought — was still standing beside him with her large eyes trained on Veronica.

“I’m going. I shouldn’t have come here,” Veronica dismissed, already trying to side step past him and out of the Grand.

“Wait, whoa, stop for a second,” Logan said, reaching out and grabbing her arm before she could make her escape. “What’s going on? What happened?” His eyes were concerned as they searched her face and even if it wasn’t a good excuse for what happened next, it was the best one she had.

Against her will, she began to cry. She bit her lip in an attempt to stop, but it was to no avail. Tears welled up, her face seized in a sob and she clutched at her mouth. “Are you crying?” Dick said, dumbfounded at the sight. Veronica paid him no mind and neither did Logan.

He stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her and she suddenly found herself sobbing into his shirt. He smelt so good, so familiar, and his arms around her were the comfort they always had been, the comfort that she’d needed the night Cassidy Casablancas had killed himself, the comfort that she’d so unwillingly missed over the summer, her first summer apart from Logan in a long time.

“My mom,” she said, barely able to get the words out. She knew she’d have to explain it all to him, but he asked nothing of her now, and for that she was grateful. She clung to him, not caring about the almost-teenage girl or a half-naked Dick. Logan didn’t say anything, but he ran his hand up and down her back and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her head. “She’s back,” Veronica choked. “And she’s pregnant.”

There. That was enough.

Somehow she ended up sitting on his couch wrapped in one of his sweatshirts. She had a glass of water, Dick had been shooed from the suite, and Heather — that was the kid’s name — was in Logan’s room, respectfully giving Veronica her privacy. Veronica’s cries had ended and a part of her felt mortified at her impulsive visit to Logan and her unstoppable tears. She hadn’t seen him all summer and when she finally does, she. . . .

“So what’s going on?” Logan asked, one of his large, warm hands resting on her knee.

“I’m sorry,” Veronica said, not answering his question. She didn’t meet his gaze. “I don’t want you out of my life, Logan. I don’t think I could handle having you out of my life. I’m sorry for ever saying that.”

“It’s okay,” he murmured.

There was a lot more she should have said. During spare moments in Virginia, when Jenna was on a date and Veronica had the dorm to herself with nothing to do or other such times, she had thought about exactly what she should say.

She should have told him that she was sorry for how she’d treated him with suspicion when they were together. She was sorry that she had let him walk away believing she didn’t need him right before everything with Mercer. She was sorry she didn’t go to get him out of prison after he beat Mercer and Moe to a pulp, even though she had desperately wanted to just that.

She was sorry that she had forgiven Madison but stubbornly refused to forgive him. She was sorry that she had been ashamed of herself for falling right back into Logan’s arms, so ashamed that she had used the first excuse she could to storm away in anger, even if that excuse was as stupid as a drunken mistake with Madison Sinclair.

But she couldn’t make herself say all of those things.

“My mom’s back,” Veronica said softly. “She’s back and she’s staying with us and my dad’s letting her because she’s gone and gotten herself knocked up. She’s nearly six months pregnant. She claims she hasn’t been drinking, but who knows. . . .”

“I’m sorry,” Logan said, squeezing her knee. She gave him a small smile.

There was a thick silence before she found her voice again. “What, ah, what’s going on with Gory? Has he . . . has he talked to you or anything at all?” A chance of subject seemed like a good idea to her.

“He tried to beat me up in a parking lot a few weeks after you left,” Logan answered casually. Veronica was alarmed. Logan smirked when he saw her expression. “Don’t worry. His posse got a few punches in; Dick and I got a few punches in. Despite what our childhoods imply, not every death threat is a legitimate one.”

“So that’s it?” Veronica asked with clear disbelief. She almost wished there was more. She wished she had a new assignment: bring down Gory before he could stab Logan in a dark alleyway. At least it’d be an exciting distraction from Lianne Mars, her unborn child and her begging, pleading eyes as she told a disgusted Veronica her sob story.

“Well, it basically went like this,” Logan told her. “He punched me; I punched him. I told him to stay the fuck away from you. He said he could have me killed and I had no idea who I was messing with. I told him my father was a raping, murdering asshole, and maybe he could have me killed but if he went any where near you I’d personally kill him, and then Dick said ‘yeah!’ really loudly, and then everybody went home. I don’t know what he did next, but I watched American Idol.”

Veronica didn’t know whether to laugh or slap him. She chose simply to shake her head. Before either of them could say anything else, Veronica’s cell phone began to buzz. Veronica gave Logan an apologetic smile before glancing at the caller ID. It was her dad.

“Hey,” she greeted softly.

She had left the house that morning before he had even woken up. She had spent the whole evening listening to her mother pitifully harp on about how hard her life was and then spent the entire night staring at her ceiling wishing her dad wasn’t such a softie. By the time the sun rose, all she wanted was to get out of the house.

“Where are you?” her dad asked.

“I’m with Logan. I came here this morning. I needed somebody to talk to.” It was an honest answer, and if her father didn’t like that, then fine, he could deal with it. She didn’t like the fact that he was forcing Lianne on her but she was going to have to deal with it.

“And your first choice was Logan?”

“Do you really want to get in a fight about this right now?” she replied bitingly.

He sighed. “No, I don’t. If you get a chance could you pick up some ice cream? Maybe some Rocky Road? I know you’re meeting Wallace and Mac later, but. . . .”

“Is Lianne having a craving?” Veronica asked, sneering. She hoped he could hear the disdain in her voice. She couldn’t help it: the only way to deal with her emotions was to be angry and let the anger dominate everything else. She knew none of this was her dad’s fault, but that didn’t stop her.

“Just pick it up, please.”

He sounded so tired that she felt a twinge of guilt. “Okay. I’ll get it now. See you in a little bit.”

“Thanks, honey. See you soon.”

She flipped the phone shut. She gave an almighty sigh, slowly turning to face Logan with a grim expression. “Did I ever tell you that I hate my life?”

Logan gave a soft, knowing smile. “Life’s a bitch, right?” he said. She smiled too.

“Something like that.”

She didn’t know why, but as she was walking out the door, she turned around at the last minute. “I broke up with Piz right before I left for Virginia.” He didn’t say anything. She didn’t expect him to. “I just wanted you to know.”

"I want to talk to her."
 

Marlie made the announcement with a firm voice, her face set and her eyes determined. She had stayed up half the night thinking about it, and that morning when she had asked Uncle Wallace to drive her home rather than to school so she could talk to her mother, she had known it was the first thing that would leave her mouth.
 

She stood in the doorway of their home now, her little brothers were both in pajamas eating cereal, and her mother stood in a nightgown staring. She didn't look good, her mother, but Marlie didn't care. Her mother wasn't the one who had been lied to her entire life.
 

Veronica turned towards Jason and Ben. "Boys, the clock’s a tickin’: time to dress for success. The bus will be here for you any minute, Jay, and Dad'll be down to take you to school soon, too, Ben." When both boys only stared at her, she added, “Upstairs! Clothing! You! Now!” Glancing between Marlie and Veronica, they slowly followed instructions and trudged upstairs.
 

Veronica turned her back to Marlie and began working on an omelet. "Why don't you have a seat, Marlie," she said softly, her voice carefully calm.
 

Marlie hadn't planned on moving from the doorway, but Uncle Wallace softly pushed her into the house as he followed after her, shutting the kitchen door behind him. "Morning V," he greeted softly, and Veronica sent him a small smile as he put a bagel from the counter in the toaster and then sat down at the kitchen table. It was evident even to a stranger that he had spent plenty of mornings there.
 

"Do you want an omelet, Marlie?" asked her mother, still not looking at her.
 

"I want to talk to her," Marlie repeated. "And you can try and put it off, put off talking about this, but it isn't going to work." How could her mother just ignore her like this? How could she try and ignore the problem? Didn't Veronica Echolls consider questioning everyone and everything, rooting out evils, and discovering secrets to be her bread and butter?
 

"We will talk about it," Veronica answered, "after you have a seat, have some breakfast, and your father comes back from dropping Ben off at school."
 

Marlie opened her mouth to argue, but her father appeared in the room right at that moment. He was dressed casually and looked the very same as he did every morning. He went to Veronica and pressed a kiss to her temple just as he did every morning. He murmured something about breakfast smelling good just as he did every morning. He poured himself a cup of coffee just as he did every morning.
 

Then his eyes landed on her.
 

And Marlie felt the overwhelming urge to cry again. He was her dad, he had been acting that morning as he acted every morning, yet everything was different now. Because every other morning he had been her dad and now . . . now he was nothing. How could that change in one night?
 

"I'm glad you're home," he told her, his eyes seeming to burn into her. The man knew how to stare. He could stare at you to stop your tears when you'd had a bad day; he could stare at you to assure you that he understood and loved you no matter what. He could stare at you to bring out all your secrets or tell you just how very disappointed he was in you. Right now, though, she had no idea why he stared at her that way.
 

"I want to talk to her," Marlie told him. "And I want to talk to you about her. You can't deny me that."
 

"No one ever said we would," he replied softly.
 

"But you have been my entire life," she snapped back.
 

And then she was positive of the gleam in his eyes: he was disappointed in her. But she should be the one disappointed in him! He had lied to her; he had pretended to be something to her that he wasn't. But . . . just because he wasn't actually her dad, it didn't mean that he was nothing to her. He was still . . . he was still hers, her confidant, her biggest fan, her daddy.

Wasn't he?
 

Jason chose that moment to reappear in the room. "Can I have some money for lunch?" he asked Veronica as he ruffled his dark hair and grabbed his backpack from its spot beside the far wall. She tossed him a paper bag. "Aw, c'mon, Mom! I hate having a packed lunch. Nobody else ever does!"
 

"That makes you special. Some people do crazy things to be special," Veronica replied. "They dye their hair purple, join cults, suck blood. Now you don't have to any of that. And there's a cookie in there. You're welcome."
 

Jason still looked petulant. But he only said “Fine” and gave Veronica an angry blue-eyed glare when she shot him a 'choose your battles wisely, kid' glance. "Bye Dad," he said. "Bye Uncle Wallace. Bye Mom."

"I'll pick you up after school," Logan told him, even as Veronica replied, "I love you, too, smoochums."
 

Marlie couldn't believe it. The day was going on like every other one. Had no one realized that her entire life had been knocked off its axis? Did no one care?
 

Ben walked into the room, then. Veronica handed him his lunch. "What's in it?" he asked, his eyes gleaming. In stark contrast to his brother, Ben’s brown eyes were warm and happy as he looked up at his mother. At five years old, even the simple joy of an exciting packed lunch made Ben happy.
 

"It's a surprise," Veronica replied as she always did. Ben smiled and gave her a hug, still so young and adoring of his snarky mother.
 

He was her real mother. There was no doubt about that. Marlie could still remember the day he was born. A sudden thought occurred to her: did her mom love Jason and Ben more than her? They were, after all, her actual children. And, oh God, what about her dad? Surely he loved his sons more than her. Her eyes whipped over to him where he sat eating the omelet Veronica had made him and reading the paper.
 

He stood up just as Ben came over to him, slipping on his bright red backpack as he walked. "Ready to go?" Logan asked, slowly drawing his eyes away from the paper. Ben nodded. Logan put the paper down and stood.
 

"Wait!" Marlie shouted, anger bubbling up in her. "What am I supposed to do? Sit around and wait for you to come back and explain to me why you LIED to me for my ENTIRE life? How can you guys be acting like this?"
 

"Don't yell in front of Ben," Veronica said slowly, still forcedly calm. It made Marlie even angrier.
 

"Why not?" she snarled. "You do all the time."
 

"Marlie," her father said, his voice a warning.
 

Marlie only scoffed. "You two are unbelievable. I find out last night that you're not my parents and this is the reception I get the next morning. Unbelievable." She crossed her arms angrily over her chest.
 

"What were you expecting?" Veronica asked, the first flash of anger appearing in her eyes. “We are your parents!”
 

"I was expecting some explanations!" Marlie told her hotly.
 

"Everything will be explained after your dad drops Ben off at school. I already said that. You may deem it necessary to skip school — and you'll notice we're allowing that — but there is no reason for Ben to do the same. Now sit. If you don't want breakfast that's your choice."
 

"Why doesn't Ben just take the bus like Jason?" Marlie challenged. Every word her mother spoke only made her angrier.
 

"He doesn't like taking the bus," Veronica replied. "You know that."
 

"You're spoiling him. Life isn't always what a person likes. Did you hear that, Ben?" she turned on her little brother, who was staring at her with wide, confused eyes. "The world doesn't revolve around you and even if you don't like it, you can take the fucking bus for one day!" Ben ran upstairs, his face anguished. Logan followed right after him.
 

"MARLINE!" Veronica exploded. "You will not speak to your bother that way EVER. Do you hear me? As far as I can tell you're the only one who's spoiled and you're the one that needs to be reminded that the world doesn't revolve around you!"
 

Marlie couldn't take it any more. She obviously wasn't going to get anything out of her so-called parents. "Fine. Whatever. I don't want to deal with you anyway." And with that declaration she turned point blank and walked right back of the house.
 

"Don't you walk away from me!" Veronica called tritely. Marlie only made sure to slam the door shut behind her. What was she supposed to do now? Where was she supposed to go? A brief thought fluttered to her mind. But was there a way to find Lianne? Marlie abandoned the thought. She couldn't handle that now.
 

Before long she found herself in her Honda Civic and driving to her aunt Mac's house. Her mother stepped outside just as Marlie was pulling out of the driveway and Marlie could feel Veronica's blue gaze piercing her through the windshield, but her mother didn't try and stop her and Marlie only slammed on the accelerator.
 

It sucked that all the adults in her life she could count on were close to her mother, but that was just the way it was. And since Uncle Wallace was out of the running at this point and Grandpa Keith still wasn't an option, Aunt Mac made the most sense for now.
 

The drive to her house wasn't long, but it was long enough for Marlie to remember something: when Aunt Mac was a teenager she had found out that she'd been switched at birth; she'd discovered that the people she'd always thought were her parents weren't her parents at all and had been lying to her for years. Why hadn’t Marlie ever been more interested in that story before now?
 

If anybody would know how she felt, it would be her aunt Mac.
 

A/N: Here's chapter two! When I orginially wrote the story I just went on and on without stopping to designate chapters. Now that I'm going back and posting it I've tried to split it all up, but natrually some chapters are a little choppier than others and I apologize for that. Also, two memories managed to worm their way into this chapter, but most chapters will only have one. It was either include the second memory and have a longer chapter or not include it and have a much shorter chapter, so. . . .

As for Marlie calling Mac "Aunt Mac" -- when I was growing up my mom thought it was disrespectful for me and my siblings to call her friends by their first names but it seemed too informal to address them as Mr. or Mrs., so her small circle of best friends became our surrogate Aunts and Uncles. I assumed the same for Marlie. :)

The next chapter will be up soon! Please review.