"So, New York, huh?"

"Hmmm," I said by means of reply, leaning back against Liam's muscular frame, delighting in every minute of the physical contact. "Yeah. Should be fun."

"You've never been?"

"A couple of times, after my dad came back, my mom would take me and Carla for a girl's trip to see my Aunt Fiona," I replied. "We'd go shopping and hang out and stuff like that. We always had a good time."

"It sounds like it."

"How about you?" I asked, turning over slightly so as I could stare into Liam's beautiful, silvery eyes. "You ever been?"

Liam smirked. "I'm the CEO of one of the biggest companies in the United States. I've been to New York many times on business."

I smirked then, bracing myself up onto my elbow so that I could get on top of Liam, who raised his eyebrows and grinned at my brazen behavior. "And what about for pleasure?" I asked, letting out a short gasp as he ran his hands over my body. "Ever go to New York for that?"

"Yeah, a few times, when I was younger. Mom and Dad honeymooned in New York. Before things got bad with him, we'd go as a family. Penny, too."

I reached down then, cupping his cheek in my hand, my heart thudding in my chest as he leaned into it. "I'm sorry things got bad."

Liam shrugged. "Hey, it is what it is." He lifted me slightly, so as I was anchored just above him, as he teased me. "So, Northwestern?"

I laughed. "Yeah. I already sent off the letter, accepting their acceptance. I'm really excited to get over there and get to work."

"Have any idea what you're going to study?"

"A slight idea," I replied, biting down hard on my lower lip as I allowed him access inside me then, and loving the sensation completely.

"Care to share?"

"Business management," I replied.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I replied, clearing my throat of the sensations Liam evoked from within me, and especially loved the notion that his strong hands were on my naked hips. "Yeah, I want to take over this place from my mom."

"You sure you wouldn't want a more...I don't know...high-profile job?"

I scoffed. "Please," I muttered, a whimper escaping my lips as Liam got to his feet then, and kept his hold on me. "I love this place. I want to keep it in the family..."

"Have you discussed this with your mom at all?" he asked, bracing me up against the wall, and continuing his forward motion.

I pursed my lips. "There's a great many things I don't discuss with my mother, Liam, as you well know...dammit," I said, bracing my palms onto his shoulders.

Liam smirked. "Yeah, well, my sister knows about us..."

I flushed, and it wasn't just because of the pounding. "Wait. Really?"

"Not all the details, of course," he replied. "But she figured out I've got someone in my life who I keep sneaking out to see..."

"My dad and uncle know about us, too..."

Liam stopped for a moment. "Wait. Which dad?"

I dug my heels into his backside then, and Liam quickly began moving back and forth again. "I just told Pops," I replied.

"So, your biological father, married to your uncle..."

"Yeah," I replied. "Him."

"It feels like you're closer to them than your mom and her husband..."

I shrugged. "Similar interests. Plus, I actually look like Pops. The only thing I really got from my mom were her eyes, and those she and my Aunt Fiona have, so..."

Liam stiffened inside me then, and I immediately covered his mouth with my hand, and he did the same to mine. Our hot breath made contact with each of our palms, and slowly, slowly, I untangled my legs from around his torso, bracing myself up against the wall to keep myself from buckling knees. "You okay?"

I nodded stiffly, rolling my shoulders then. I yanked my bra back into place and pulled my shirt down, and then I crossed the room and made a grab for my panties and denim shorts. "It was really nice of you to get over here so quickly..."

"Hey, anything to blow off a little steam."

"Because that's all this is, right?" I asked tentatively, peeking over my shoulder at him as I stepped into my shorts. "I mean... We didn't say..."

"You're right," Liam assured me, dressing himself. "That's all this is. I mean, we're friends who like to have fun."

"Like, friends with benefits?" I chuckled.

Liam returned my laugh. "Yeah. Something like that..."

"Great," I said, smoothing the wrinkles out of my clothes before turning around to face him. I walked over to him then and pressed my lips briefly to his, lingering for just a moment so as he'd have something to remember me by, before fishing my keys out of my pocket and turning around towards the door. "Glad to know we're on the same page!" I called out, before heading back out towards my car.

. . .

I worked double shifts that Sunday and Monday, and on Tuesday, Mom decided that Patsy's would play host to a Fourth of July barbeque. Franny and I, along with all the other waitresses and employees, were all decked out in stars and stripes, and songs about liberty pumped on the loudspeakers for all to hear. Franny and I were covering the breakfast and lunch rush, and would be off at three that afternoon to head home and prepare for the family barbecue to be held at Pops's and Uncle Ian's house later that night.

Franny and I finished our shifts just ten minutes before three, and Mom permitted us to head back into the employee locker room area to get changed and head out. I smirked to myself as we stood there, in front of our lockers, tidying them up; of course, I had more of a job to do, as this was my last shift before my week-long trip to New York. Franny, of course, would be coming in to cover a lot of my shifts, so I made it my mission to find her, and little Ezra, awesome gifts while I was across the country.

"Andy the only one you ever fuck in there?"

I nearly choked on the bottle of water I'd been chugging, before turning to look over at my cousin and best friend. "What?" I asked, still trying to remember how to breathe.

"Well, I mean, you've been fucking for over two years now," Franny said with a little shrug of her shoulders. "Just a question."

"No, yeah, I know," I said, clearing my throat then as I gathered the last of my clothes to be laundered into my duffel bag that I'd brought in that morning. "I mean, I think we've already established that you can ask me whatever the fuck you want..."

Franny crossed her arms, leaning back against her locker then as she scrutinized me. "I think you're hiding something..."

I rolled my shoulders then, deliberately attempting not to look at her as I grabbed the feather duster and meticulously worked at the metal shelves inside my locker. "Yeah, well, we're Gallaghers," I said with a shrug. "Plus, I'm a Milkovich, too. We hide shit. It's a known fact that we're imperfect beings..."

"We're not talking about perfection here," Franny said, growing impatient. "We're talking about fucking; specifically, your fucking."

I rolled my eyes, returning the feather duster to its proper place. "Yeah..." I said, letting the word linger there for a moment before I turned and looked at her. "One other person. I've fucked one other person back here... You happy now?"

Franny looked shocked at my declaration then, and immediately proceeded to question me. "Oh, my god, who was it?!"

I scoffed then, pulling my duffel over my shoulder and slamming my locker shut, securing it with its combination lock. "Quit it, Franny."

"No, tell me," she begged, slamming her own locker closed and clipping the lock onto it as she followed me out to my car, getting into the passenger seat. "What have you been keeping so hidden these past couple of weeks...?"

I muttered under my breath, throwing my duffel into the back seat and buckling up, nodding for Franny to do the same. "Not much to know..."

"I highly doubt that," Franny replied, yanking her seatbelt into place. "You're hiding something, Iana, and I know it."

I nipped at my bottom lip then before I turned to face her. "Look, I'm calling in my favor about you not telling my parents about it. You owe me when it came to Ezra's dad, whose name I never bring up, because we were both burned by him. Got it?"

Franny sighed. "Fine, I won't tell anyone. Now, tell me who you've been fucking in the employee locker room!" she said, bouncing up and down in her seat and clapping her hands. "I want to know!"

I rolled my eyes, the sight of my cousin acting like she'd won the grand prize at some fucking carnival or something quickly becoming annoying. "It was William Kennedy," I replied, fishing my keys out from my pocket.

Franny looked shocked for a moment before she launched into further questioning. "Wait. The hot-shot millionaire guy from graduation?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Wait. He was the douchebag at the diner that day, the one that you were eye-fucking from across the room," she said.

I swallowed then. "The same guy, yeah."

Franny mulled it over for a minute before she locked her eyes with mine. "But, Iana, that Kennedy guy is twenty-one..."

"I know that," I replied, running my hand over my steering wheel. "Don't you think I'd know something like that?"

"Was it just the one time?" she asked quietly. "Before he knew you were only sixteen? I mean, did he freak out afterwards or something...?"

"He didn't figure out how old I was until after graduation," I replied. "The sexual attraction was mutual, but he refused to do anything to me..."

"Wise decision," Franny replied, "him being CEO of a huge cooperation and all."

"You know what they say about forbidden fruit," I said, pulling my hands into my lap and knotting my fingers together. "It tastes all the sweeter..."

"Iana, what were you thinking?"

"Clearly, all rational thought went out the window," I replied. "He immediately regretted it the next morning..."

"Next morning?!" Franny demanded. "You never stay with one person that long! You like to get them out quickly..."

"Yeah, and I never fuck the same person twice, but here we are..."

"Twice?!" Franny squawked. "Are you kidding me?"

I scoffed then, tilting my head back so that the back of it rested upon the top of my seat. "More than twice, Franny. A few times, actually..."

Franny sighed, staring at me for a moment. "You like him."

I felt my face flush immediately then as I shook my head. "Uh, no. Never. Not happening. I don't like anyone, Franny..."

"You have got to get over this whole, 'I'm unworthy of love' thing you've got going on. Come on; I'm not telling you to forget the past, but you can move on from it. What happened with Jackass Monroe was so long ago now..."

"Four years," I said quietly.

"Right. So now you can move on accordingly. Maybe with Kennedy, maybe not, but you deserve a happy ending, Iana."

I sighed then, considering it. "I don't know..."

Franny thought about it for a moment, letting the silence linger between us until a new idea seemed to come to her. "How much cash you got on you?"

I blinked, turning to look at her then. "Why?" I asked.

"Just tell me."

"Seventy-five," I replied. "Why?"

Franny grinned. "Because, in celebration of Independence Day, you and I are going to a random bodega and getting you a fake I.D. in preparation for your trip to New York."

"Franny, why would I need a fake? Nobody drives in New York, so it's not like I wouldn't be taking a cab anywhere..."

"So that you can go to clubs, duh," Franny said, rolling her eyes. "The only places you can drink around here are Uncle Ian's place and The Alibi, if Kev looks the other way long enough to accept your cash. Come on. Live a little."

I bit my lip then, mulling over the potential consequences attached to possessing such a thing, as well as using it, but all common sense quickly went out the window. "Screw it," I said, flashing a grin at Franny.

Franny grinned. "What?"

"We're going," I told her, sticking my key into the ignition and turning it, the aggressive purr of my car letting me know that we were on a mission. "Who knows? Maybe I'll do something completely reckless on the East Coast..."

"Fucking someone five years older than you isn't reckless?"

I laughed. "Maybe," I replied, backing out of my parking space, "but I can't go to jail for something like that; he can," I told her, making my way out of the alley and over a few blocks, waiting to hand my cash over to a stranger for potential illegal activity.

. . .

We touched down in New York in the early afternoon on the day of my trip; I was still slightly exhausted from the barbecue from the night before, and was suffering from quite a hangover to top it all off. With the vein still throbbing on the side of my forehead, I got to my feet with the rest of the first-class section and made my way to the edge of the aisle, wanting more than anything to get off this plane. I slipped my carry-on bag over my shoulder and, once the signal was given, I moved quickly towards the exit, finally reaching the inside of the airport, and began following the signs for the baggage claim.

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes as I arrived at the carousel, waiting for my bag to arrive. The sign informed me that my flight had arrived, and that the bag were due to appear in the next ten minutes or so. I took out my phone then, taking it off of airplane mode and waiting for the flurry of text messages to arrive. I had six unanswered ones, all from different members of my family; my parents, Pops and Uncle Ian, Aunt Fiona, and Franny. My parents wished me well and kindly requested that I let them know when I'd landed safely, and arrived at Aunt Fiona's penthouse; the next text message, from Pops, was telling me to have a good time; Uncle Ian told me to be safe; Aunt Fiona said that she was on her way and would meet me at the airport; and Franny told me to put my new fake I.D. to good use.

I rolled my eyes at the last text, but nevertheless replied to all of them, before slipping my phone back into my pocket. I'd told Aunt Fiona that I was at baggage claim, giving her the number of the claim itself, and nibbled on my lower lip, wondering when my black roller suitcase was due to be spat out onto the machine. Rolling on the backs of my feet then, I felt relieved when the carousel suddenly beeped slightly, informing the various plane passengers that our bags were due out at any moment.

"Iana!"

I turned around then, spotting Aunt Fiona immediately through the crowd, letting out a slight squeal of happiness and bouncing up and down, not wanting to give up my place, front and center, by the baggage claim. When my aunt came through the crowds and towards me then, I was immediately yanked into her arms, and I was pleased that she'd gotten there quickly. She just held me for a moment, before she pulled back, holding my face in her hands and just staring down at me, almost as if she was searching for something.

"It's only been a couple of weeks, but you already are looking so much older," Aunt Fiona told me with a smile.

I rolled my eyes. "Please. Whereas you haven't aged a day since I was a kid."

Aunt Fiona playfully rolled her eyes, before spotting something behind me. She maneuvered herself around my body then and, turning, saw that she'd managed to quickly snag my roller suitcase quickly from the fray. Setting it down beside me, I immediately made a grab for it, and she took my carry-on bag, slinging it over her free arm, before putting her arm around my shoulders and guiding me towards the main doors of the airport, where passengers could get a taxi, town car, or limo to their destination of choice.

"Uncle Jimmy still at the practice?" I asked.

Aunt Fiona nodded. "Yeah, until later on tonight. But he still has the weekends off, so don't worry about a thing. We'll have plenty of time to do things together."

I smiled at her. "Not worried," I replied, watching as Aunt Fiona signaled for a sleek-looking, black town car to pick us up. I continued watching as the driver pulled up alongside us and slipped out of the vehicle, taking my suitcase from me and putting it into the trunk. I followed Aunt Fiona towards the back seat area, slipping inside when directed to by her, and thanking the driver when he shut the door behind us.

"Where to, ladies?" he asked, a rich, Caribbean accent escaping from his lips.

"3 East Eighty-Ninth Street," Aunt Fiona replied, naming where her penthouse was.

"No problem, ma'am," the driver said, pulling out from his space beside the curb and falling into the line of traffic.

"The drive shouldn't be more than twenty minutes, depending on traffic..."

I smiled, pleased at her consideration. "I remember," I told her.

"So, your first solo trip to New York," Aunt Fiona said, turning to look at me. "Anything you want to do in your week here?"

I shrugged. "Whatever you want to do is fine with me."

"Well, we got tickets to Hamilton, which is our graduation present to you," Aunt Fiona said. "It turns out that Jimmy is the primary care physician for the current lead in the show."

My eyes widened. "That's amazing!"

"Right? Small world," Aunt Fiona said with a laugh. "We also got dinner reservations at IL Carino," she went on breezily. "We got a sitter for James and Murphy, and they'll be in bed by the time we get home."

I nodded. "Sounds great," I replied.

Aunt Fiona and I continued to make small talk for the next fifteen minutes, until we arrived at her lavish townhouse. Slipping from the car quickly, Aunt Fiona paid the man for the trip, and I saw a generous tip exchanging hands as I removed my roller from his trunk. Hauling it up onto the sidewalk, I walked after Aunt Fiona, still holding onto my carry-on bag, as we made our way towards the steps of the lavish-looking, turn-of-the-century building. Going up the stairs quickly, Aunt Fiona dug her key out of her pocket, turning it in the lock and stepping inside, and I followed her in, never getting tired of the beauty of the architecture.

"Let's get your things into the guest suite," she said with a smile, and we walked towards the back of the house, where the suite was located.

"Where are my cousins this afternoon?" I asked.

"James is off with his friends somewhere," Aunt Fiona replied, and I could tell from her tone that she didn't approve of them completely.

"And Murphy?"

"Ballet," she said, and her tone was much lighter.

I mulled that over in my mind then as Aunt Fiona opened the cream-colored door to the guest suite, the one I usually slept in, as there were a trio of rooms reserved for guests, each boasting a walk-in closet and en suite bathroom. "Sound to me like you don't like James's friends too much," I put in quietly, making my way into the room behind her, and setting my suitcase beside the small, cushioned bench at the base of the queen-sized bed. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm as South Side as you are, but New York is a different place..."

Aunt Fiona sighed, leaning against the doorframe of my borrowed bedroom. "I don't know, sweetie. I guess I don't want to see him getting hurt..."

"He's a teenager now, close in age to Clayton and Fionn," I replied.

"He's just thirteen, though," Aunt Fiona put in with a shrug. "I guess I don't want to see him growing up too quickly."

I raised my eyebrows. "You think he is?"

She sighed. "I did find some cigarettes on him about a week ago..."

I scoffed. "Cigarettes a child's play, believe me," I said. "I was smoking since I was eleven. It's not really anything to worry about."

"I know you smoke, sweetie. Not much gets by me."

I crossed my arms then, wondering what else she knew. "Well, of course you knew about me getting my period at twelve..."

"Of course," she replied. "You called me."

"And then came the drinking at thirteen, and sex at fourteen..." I laughed a little then, and sat down upon the bench behind me. "Guess I've lived a full life..."

Aunt Fiona's dark brows knit together then as she considered something. "Do you even like having sex, Iana?"

I nodded. "Sure, I mean, on a physical level, at least. I mean, you know as well as I do that I don't discriminate between guys or girls. Either can be fun, as long as you know what you're doing. I hate being the only one aware. Makes it all work and no play..."

"And what about the people? You ever sleep with someone you like?"

I scoffed. "I don't like anyone, Aunt Fiona. You and Pops should know that by now. It's just not in the cards for me. Period."

Aunt Fiona smiled. "Like I said, not much gets by me."

I scoffed a second time then, getting my phone out of my pocket, wondering if anyone else had texted me. "You're out of your mind."

"Then why did your face light up when you looked at your phone just now?"

I felt myself flush at being backed into a corner then as I shook my head, attempting to hide my phone from her. "No... No reason."

She sighed. "Look, sweetie, I'm not going to confiscate your phone from you, because you're not my kid, but you are in my house for the next week, and I think you're hiding something. I mean, I'm right, aren't I?"

I sighed then, flattening myself onto the foot of the bed then, staring at the ceiling. "Fine, fine, okay. You're right. Call off the fucking witch hunt, already okay?!"

"That's more like it," Aunt Fiona said, always pleased to know when she was right. She crossed the room then and sat down next to me, not reaching out for my phone, but not bothering to give me the personal space, which I craved 99.9% of the time. "So, who is he...or she?"

"He," I replied. "It's a guy..."

"Not that Monroe guy..."

"No!" I said, the rage bubbling just beneath the surface as I remembered him, the sudder escaping from me before I could call it back.

"You two ever talk about it?"

I shook my head. "Not since she told me... But it doesn't matter, not anymore. We're over it, and we're not discussing it, Aunt Fiona. Period."

"Okay," she said, and I could tell by her tone that she was going to let the subject drop. "Why don't you tell me about this guy, then?"

"His name is Liam; well, that's his nickname, at least..."

"What's his full name, then?"

"William Kennedy," I said quietly.

"William Kennedy...?" Aunt Fiona said, considering the name. "Wait. He was that guy who spoke at yours and Franny's graduation..."

I sighed. "Yeah, that's him."

Aunt Fiona looked concerned then. "Sweetie, he's twenty-one."

I rolled my eyes, all the while still staring up at the ceiling. "I'm aware of how old he is, Aunt Fiona. Thank you."

"He's a man, though, sweetie. And you're..."

"I know I'm sixteen, still a teenager," I said, forcing my voice not to tremble. "And yet, you know as well as I do how fast I had to grow up."

She sighed. "Yeah, I know, honey."

"And you know a thing or two about raising your siblings."

"All too well."

"That why you don't want to have kids?"

I blinked, turning my head to face her then, confusion filling my expression as I continued to stare at her. "What?" I asked.

"Well, you've expressed no desire to have them..."

I sighed, shrugging then. "I don't know. I mean, I don't see myself settling down with anyone either, but you knew that already..."

"You think Clayton and Fionn killed the baby bug?"

I laughed sarcastically. "I think a lot of bugs were killed when Tommy came into all our lives," I replied, my tone bitter, as always, whenever I or somebody else brought him up. "I mean, before he came on the scene, I wanted to stay with my mom forever..."

"I think that's a common trait in most children..."

"I'm not 'most children', Aunt Fiona," I replied. "Most children say 'Dada' before 'Mama', which I didn't get an opportunity to say until Dad adopted me. Most children aren't handed off to an uncle to raise when they're five-years-old, and subsequently have to become a mother themselves afterwards. Most children don't go from a mommy's girl to daddy's little girl very often... Most children don't have three fathers."

"You consider Clayton and Fionn your kids?"

"I don't consider them my kids; they are my kids."

"How does your mom feel about that?"

I sighed. "It's all about baby steps, I guess. She gave me this trip to New York as a sign of a white flag, I guess, but I never know with her anymore..."

"You think you'll ever forgive her?"

"I think the entire situation is easier to understand, now that I know what she was fighting for the entire time. However, I think getting in bed with Tommy, figuratively and literally, could've been prevented somehow. I mean, Mason had all these connections within the department to make my dad safe, but he could've pulled my mom out at any time, and he didn't..."

"It wasn't up to him, sweetheart."

I turned and looked at Aunt Fiona then, shaking my head. "What? What do you mean it wasn't up to him? He was the cop here..."

My aunt turned away from me then, shaking her head. "Of course Murphy wouldn't tell you anything about this. For fuck's sake... I love my sister, but the fact remains that she thinks she has to be a fucking martyr all the time..."

"You're telling me," I muttered. "But what the hell did you mean just then, Aunt Fiona? Why didn't Mason pull her out?"

She shook her head. "I shouldn't say anything..."

"Aunt Fiona..."

"No. I won't foster your negative opinion of her."

"I'm sixteen, perfectly capable of forming opinions, positive and negative, on my own. I graduated high school early, and secured placement in a top university. I'm no dope, Aunt Fiona, trust me. I may be the daughter of a mentally ill mother and a criminal father, and I may be a total slut when it comes to sex, but come the fuck on. Don't sit there and tell me that you think my opinion of my mother will be wrecked further, and tell me what you know."

Aunt Fiona dragged a hand over her face. "Maybe I've said too much already..."

"You're goddamn right you have," I said, leaping on her words. "Fucking tell me. She swore she would tell me, but she never tells me a fucking thing. I'm tired of waiting, and I'm not a fucking baby anymore. Just...tell me."

Aunt Fiona sighed. "Honey, your mom was given the opportunity by Mason to be pulled out of the mission several times, but she didn't, because she refused."

I gaped then, sitting up completely as I attempted to process the information. "She didn't want to be pulled out?" I whispered then, my voice shaking. "Are you fucking kidding me right now, Aunt Fiona?"

She shook her head. "No. Not kidding."

"Fucking Christ!" I screamed then, leaping to my feet and pacing the room. "I don't fucking understand any of this! I know she loves Dad, don't get me wrong, but fucking putting him first out of all this..."

"Iana, you can't really think that she didn't even think about you and the boys..."

"The hell I can't!" I said, a soft cry escaping my lips before I could call it back, recalling the nights when the boys would cry because they were hungry, had dirty diapers, were scared, or just missed our mother, and how I'd had to step up, feed them, change them, or just hold them until they felt better, sometimes all night long, thus rendering me exhausted the following day. I still forced myself to go to school, however, and was pleased that my work never suffered because of the impact of parenthood put upon me so young... "Do you realize all the hell I went through, Aunt Fiona?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

"Probably all or much of what I went through, sweetheart," she replied.

I nodded. "Yeah, yeah... But she didn't even give it a second thought. She fucking came into the house on the day, the very minute, she kicked Tommy to the curb, expecting everything to be all right and good again. I knew that if I didn't forgive her, and go along with it, that it could really fuck up the boys. I remember Uncle Ian just staring at me, begging me to take her back, and I just knew I had to do it..."

"You did what you thought was right..."

"Yeah," I said bitterly. "Showing her consideration when she hadn't shown me any in fucking several years..."

"Honey, she sent you to live with Ian because she was considering you," Aunt Fiona replied. "I know this for a fact. She'd seen what Tommy was capable of, or at least had an idea, and didn't want to same thing to happen to you."

I scoffed. "Hell of a lot good that did..."

Aunt Fiona got to her feet then, crossing over to me and physically turning me around, searching my eyes, her eyes. "Honey... What are you telling me right now?"

I tried to pull away from her, but Aunt Fiona held my arms tightly in her grip, and I knew then that there was no escape. "What's there to say? It's in the past..."

"Sweetheart, what are you talking about?"

"It's not like he fucking raped me or anything like that, Aunt Fiona, Jesus," I muttered, finally managing to yank myself away from her.

"Iana, what are you...?"

"It was just touching," I said defensively then, my voice hard as I recalled the times when Tommy got so drunk, calling me 'Murphy', within the shadows of darkness. "It's not like he stuck his fucking dick..."

"Iana!" Aunt Fiona cried out.

"What?!" I demanded. "It's the truth!"

"Iana, what are you even...?"

"He didn't fuck me, okay?! Tommy didn't rape me, so that's the takeaway here!"

"Iana, you were a little girl..."

"I was five fucking years old, thank you!" I said, my voice trembling. "That's the same year I became a mother, and did god knows what else to survive. But I'm fine now. I'm me..."

"Iana..."

"What?" I demanded then. "What are you going to say now?"

"Are you okay?"

"No, I'm fucking not okay, I'm..." I broke off then, feeling dizzy then, and shook my head, willing for the feeling to pass, but it didn't. "Excuse me," I said, and bolted from the room, and into the en suite bathroom, falling to my knees in front of the pristine, eggshell-white toilet bowl, and puking up my airplane meal. I felt the tremors all over my entire body as I continued to hurl into it, my body physically weak afterwards. I got shakily to my feet, closing the bowl, before flushing it, and turned to see that Aunt Fiona standing there, offering me a wet rag. "Thanks," I said, my voice significantly calmer now.

"Iana..."

I dragged a hand across my face. "Look, I'm fine. It's not like he didn't get a slap on the wrist when it came to sentencing. They had enough charges stacked against him that they didn't need the testimony of a sniveling little girl. The opposing side would've said some shit about me being resentful of him literally taking my mother from me. I didn't want to deal with that; I read enough court transcripts and saw enough legal dramas in my childhood that I knew I didn't want some guy in an overpriced suit who thought he knew all the answers to yell at and demean me any further than I already had been those past couple of years. It's not something I needed, after all that, and, who's to say? Maybe I wouldn't be dubbed a reliable witness..."

Aunt Fiona sighed. "Still, I'm surprised you didn't..."

"What? Tell anyone? Please," I said, crossing my arms, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "I got my mother, plus my father, and Pops back, all in one fell swoop. I know that we Gallagher's and Milkovich's protect our own, and can sometimes take shit to the extreme. The last thing I wanted was a broken family all over again..."

"But Iana..."

"Listen, I made a choice, the right one, for me," I told her, locking my eyes with hers, so as she would know that I meant every word of what I was about to say. "It's not like I need to be fixed anymore than I've already attempted to do so. Chain smoker at eleven; woman at twelve; drinker at thirteen; assault victim at fourteen; bipolar at fifteen... I've lived through hell and back, Aunt Fiona, and I'm ready for whatever curveball life wants to throw at me next."

Aunt Fiona looked me up and down then, looking as if she wanted to say more, but unsure of what my reaction would be. "You sure about that?" she asked.

I opened my mouth automatically to respond, but something passed between us then, something that couldn't be spoken aloud, and yet I knew, changes were on the horizon.

. . .

The rest of my trip to New York was a success, and I was happy to be getting home with a few weeks left of my final summer vacation before adulthood truly set in. I was thankful that no jet lag would be involved in my homecoming, and yet I found I was quite exhausted once Pops picked me up from the airport. He asked me about New York, Aunt Fiona and Uncle Jimmy, plus my cousins, James and Murphy. I explained that James fancied himself as a wannabe gangster, due to his circle of friends, while Murphy was every inch a girly-girl and wanted nothing more than to have tea parties, go shopping, and make up stories about her dolls.

"We saw Hamilton," I said.

"Yeah?" he asked. "How'd that go?"

I shrugged. "You know, can't complain. Not my style of music, but you know. The costumes were fun to look at, I guess."

Pops nodded then, peeking over at me from time to time. "Feeling all right?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, fine. Little tired, maybe. Why do you ask?"

"You look pale."

I nearly choked on the overpriced bottle of water I'd bought in the airport before meeting Pops at baggage claim. "What?" I asked, my mouth still half-full.

"No, it's fine. You're always pretty to me, Iana, you know that. I'm just concerned."

I smiled, leaning across the seats and kissing him on the cheek, getting a chuckle out of him. "I appreciate the concern, Pops, really, but I'm just tired, I swear. You know, I did miss you a whole hell of a lot..."

"Yeah?"

I nodded. "Yeah, of course I did. I wouldn't be here without you."

We continued our session of small talk as we drove the rest of the way back home from O'Hare, and arrived on our street within an hour. Pops helped me get my roller suitcase out of the car, and walked me to the door, before hugging me goodbye and heading back across the street. I let myself in, knowing that my parents were likely at work, and the rest of my family could've been god knows where. I locked the door behind me and took my suitcase up the stairs; my plan was to empty it out and do a load of laundry, and then crash until dinner.

It was a calming experience, taking my clothes out of my suitcase, knowing that the next time I'd be doing such a thing would be in my dorm room at college. I heard from my mother, who had also begun college at sixteen, that her parents hadn't allowed her to have a dorm room until she was eighteen. After a lot of persuasion, however, Mom and Dad had agreed that I could move out of the house, as long as I returned home for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and summer, which I'd readily agreed to, due to the opportunity for freedom.

I headed downstairs, the load of laundry in my basket, and loaded it up into the washing machine before I headed back upstairs. I flopped down onto my bed, landing on my back, and wincing slightly as a bolt of pain shot through me. Leaning upwards again, I scooted off the edge of my bed and crossed towards my floor-length mirror, and took off the long-sleeved shirt that I'd been wearing on the plane. I got a good look at my arm then, still encased in the cast the tattoo parlor had given me. I brushed my fingertips against it, wincing slightly, but remembering how great it was to see the abundance of red roses, tied up in a bed of thorns. Sure, Mom and Dad would likely blow a gasket, due to me still being two years too young to get one without their permission, but I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.

When my phone vibrated then, I went over to where I'd plugged it into the wall, and sat back down on my bed, seeing that it was Franny calling. "Hey," I said, once I'd answered the phone, peeking over at the cast again before going over to my chest of drawers and managing to find a tank top to yank on. "What's up?"

"You back home?"

I nodded. "Yeah, just a few minutes ago. Pops gave me a ride."

"Good. I'm already on my way. My mom has Ezra for the day."

I sighed then, rolling my shoulders. "Where are you?"

"Just down the block," she replied. "Hey. It's all going to be okay."

I bit down hard on my lip. "Yeah, maybe," I allowed, getting to my feet and leaving my bedroom, as I headed down the stairs. "Just don't know how I'm supposed to handle all this..." I unlocked and opened the front door, spotting Franny then, close to the house.

"Hey," she said, waving to me before she hung up the phone. She continued down the block and let herself into the gate, shutting it behind her and walking towards me. She climbed the steps of the porch, pulling me into her arms for a moment, running her fingers up and down my back. "I am not going to ditch you, Iana. Not now, not ever. Let's just get this over with."

I sighed, pulling back and nodding stiffly, pulling her into the house behind me. I was vaguely aware of Franny locking the door behind me, and we went promptly upstairs to my bedroom. I turned and faced her once she arrived, and watched as she dipped into her purse, handing me the pregnancy test as she sat down on my bed. "You sure?" I asked.

She nodded. "Better to know," she replied. "I'll be right out here. You come back out as soon as you're done, and we'll look together. Okay?"

I nodded back at her, swallowing slightly as I moved towards my bathroom door, pushing it open all the way before shutting it behind me. I walked over to the toilet then, yanking down my denim shorts and sitting down, biting my lip as I opened up the cardboard box of the test and set it down behind me. I angled myself appropriately then, sticking the test between my legs, and felt slight relief when the gush of urine made contact with it. I did all I could, before placing the test beside the box, checking it briefly for instructions as I cleaned myself up. I yanked up my jeans and crossed over to the sink, carefully washing my hands before I made a grab for the test again and left the bathroom.

"You did it?" Franny asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. I did it."

"Okay," Franny said, getting to her feet and standing opposite me, knowing that I wanted her close to me, but not touching. "I'm right here," she told me quietly, and I raised my eyes to hers in a quick manner. "Don't worry. It's all okay..."

I sighed then, trying to hold it together, knowing that it was now or never. I lowered my eyes to the test then, and a small gasp came forth from my lips.

"What is it, Iana?"

"Fuck, I fucking knew it," I whispered then, looking up at Franny. "I'm fucking pregnant..." I turned and looked at myself in the mirror then, and turned to the side, lifting up my shirt and my shorts downwards ever so slightly.

"Whoa..."

"What?" I hissed at Franny.

"I looked that pregnant when I was a good three months with Ezra..."

My mouth fell open then, quickly doing the math. "If I'm that far along, then there's no way in hell that it's Liam's..." I whispered.

"Who does that leave?"

"Fucking Andy Parker," I muttered, putting my head into my hands. "Jesus. I was supposed to fucking start my life, go to college, do shit, and now..."

"There are other options, Iana."

I raised my eyes to hers then. "You mean...?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure your parents would totally support that."

I sighed then, looking down at the swelling of my stomach. "Well, I guess I'll have to see how far along I am first," I muttered, knowing that there was a slight possibility of me getting attached to this parasite, but I forced myself to think positive. "Maybe there's still time to right this wrong. Who knows?"

"Um...the doctor?" Franny asked.

I bit my lip. "Look, I know you were a year younger than me, and you were able to do this, Franny, but that's the difference between you and me..."

"And what difference is that?"

"You had the maternal gene," I replied. "I have none of that," I went on, making a face as I looked at myself sideways in my mirror. "I never had any of that..."

"Look at Clayton and Fionn," Franny replied. "You mothered them."

I sighed. "It's different. Sure, I mothered them, but they're my brothers. They are my kids, for all intents and purposes, but I'm still their big sister. It'll never be like that with this thing," I told her, forcing myself not to touch it.

Franny cocked her head to one side. "How do you know?"

I smiled at her. "Because I know myself."

"People change every single day," she replied. "How can you possibly know that you'll wake up tomorrow, suddenly different?"

I shrugged. "Guess I made up my mind a long time ago."

"Minds can be changed..."

I shook my head. "I don't think so, Franny."

Franny smiled at me. "But they can."

I swallowed then, knowing what decision was expected of me, and knew that I had to follow through with it, no matter what. "Not my mind, Franny," I told her firmly, letting her know that the subject, for now, at least, was closed.