This show took me by surprise (in a very good way). I loved all the characters, Bex especially, and immediately had to delve further into her character. I hope you enjoy this!

"Why did you do this to me?" Andi says, steaming, walking away from the field as quickly as possible.

"Do what? What did I do?" Bex asks, her words garbled at the speed, the urgency, of her voice. The utter confusion she has at the anger after a present well-gifted.

"This! This whole thing. I just made an epic fool of myself." She's angry, that much Bex can tell, but her logic makes no sense: she wasn't a fool at all.

"Ah, not the part that I saw. You were amazing, and Jonah Beck-"

"Has a girlfriend." She huffs, curling further into herself, arms crossing over her chest. "Who's in high school! Did you see her?" When Bex turns to get a better look, Andi hisses, "Don't look now!"

Glancing over more covertly, she shrugs. "What? She's, like, a pretty girl. She's nothing." She turns to face Andi, sincerity in her words. "She's not you." She wants to add that Andi is the best person she knows-the best person she will ever know. But Andi is quick to disagree.

"That's right. She's here," Andi says, motioning to the area above her head, "whereas I am, move your foot, there." She looks down at the ground with a determination that scares Bex. "Where you were just stepping on."

Bex shakes her head in protest, her stomach plummeting to the ground. Andi was so much more than that. "Hey, stop. You obviously can't see yourself."

"But you can?" Andi scoffs. "Okay."

Bex continues to shake her head, chasing after Andi. This wasn't what she wanted for her daughter. This wasn't why she left or forced herself to stay away or why she allowed herself to think her daughter was better off without her. She wanted her daughter to have the life she could never give. She was a child. A reckless, irresponsible teenager who, even now, still hasn't learned to grow up. Anything had to be better than her. Her parents were willing to be those people. The people who would drop anything for Andi; the people who could raise a child; they could keep her safe and loved and on the right track. She wasn't that person. And, yes, she knew that her mother readily agreed because she wanted a second chance at the daughter she never got, but, for her daughter, she would accept it. She would accept that her mother never approved of her and her father loved her dearly, but had little faith in her parenting abilities. She could accept that Andi would call Celia 'Mom' and herself, 'Bex.' She knew this. However, she wasn't ready for this part. The part where leaving her behind was not all sunshine and rainbows. Where, in some cases, maybe she could have been a better parent, a different parent, than the ones she gifted Andi to. Could have been. "You were raised to think you have to be perfect, but you don't. If you made a fool of yourself, you know what, that's good."

"Good? It wasn't good. Trust me."

"That's the point. You need moments like these. They're the moments you remember. They're the moments you learn from. They become the funny stories you tell about yourself when you meet someone new."

"That's you. That's not me."

"Not yet, I'm trying to help you."

"I don't need your help," she grumbles. She doesn't want her older sister's charity. After all, it may as well be a lost cause. Maybe awkward isn't just a phase.

"All I'm saying is that I've been there and I know how you feel."

"No, you don't. I'm not like you. I'm not cool or adventurous. I'm not one of those people in your memory box. Those are the people you know. I'm just a girl you send scarves to."

Rebecca stares in her direction. Andi hadn't meant to wound, but she stomps off regardless. It's true, isn't it? She can't have half a sister, any more than she can have half a friend. Bex could have been her saving grace. A sibling with wisdom and fun stories. Someone to get her mom to let loose and order pizza on Tofu Monday. But she wasn't. And she isn't.

Bex sighs as she thinks for the hundredth time in the span of six hours about what an utter screw-up she is. Andi was right. She didn't know her anymore than she knew Andi. She spent so much time running that she missed out on what could have been the best thing in her life. Scratch that: the best thing in her life, period.

After Andi left, she had made her way back to her childhood home slowly, trailing just far enough behind Andi to keep an eye on her, while also giving her space. She had wrapped her arms around herself, the familiar feel of leather bunching under her fingertips. Once Andi was safely inside her home, she grabbed her helmet and took a ride. A ride to nowhere, but a ride nonetheless. Something to clear her head and calm her racing thoughts. She could, after all, use a break from the constant stream of negativity parading through her head. All the looks of pity and disgust she received while pregnant, all the comments her mother made about her inability to make herself into anything, all the times she could have spent with Andi and didn't. It was a never ending cycle.

She shakes her head from the memories, stifling the need to cry. If anything, this proved that she was better off not ruining Andi's life. One day and she has already made an ass of herself. She had already hurt Andi and that's without dropping major truth bombs on her. She grabs her graying duffel and starts packing the few belongings she's removed during her short stay. Just as she's packing her final tee shirt, the door begins to creak open, light spilling in.

Looking up, she mumbles, "Oh great. I woke you. This has been a banner day," she mutters. "Don't worry, I'm leaving first thing in the morning."

Andi quickly reaches an arm out, lightly touching her shoulder. "No, Bex, don't go. I don't want you to. I take back what I said. Every word of it." She's so sweet, so innocent and hopeful in this moment that it absolutely breaks Bex's heart. She wants Andi to have that childish innocence, that naivety, for as long as possible. She wants her to be happy.

"You don't have to."

"But can I? Please, because you were right. These are the moments I'll remember. Jonah Beck texted me. I don't even know how he has my number." Andi is beaming and it's enough to make Rebecca crack a smile. Maybe there is one thing she can do right.

She grins. "Don't be mad but I gave it to him."

"You did?" Andi furrows her brows.

"But he asked for it, though."

"He did?" Andi is practically beaming and Bex will do anything to keep that smile on her face. "Jonah Beck asked for my number. That's an amazing sentence, I need to say it again. Jonah Beck asked for my number."

Bex chuckles. "I'm just glad you're happy." And it's the truth. The pure, unadulterated truth. The only truth she's ever lived by.

"So you'll stay." It's a statement, not a question.

Bex holds her breath. She wants to make it true, but she can't. One positive reaction does not make up for a lifetime of deception. "I can't."

"Yeah you can. Everything's okay."

Bex shakes her head, zipping up her bag. She knows that, if Andi is anything like her, she won't give up until she gets a satisfactory answer. They're stubborn like that. "Give me a minute and it won't be." You'll be happy I'm gone once you know.

"These are the moments you'll remember," Andi says, steady and sure. Bex tilts her chin at the tactic being used. "I'm just quoting you."

"Well, I've made too many mistakes." Rebecca looks down, unable to meet her daughter's eyes.

"When?"

"Today."

"No you didn't! That's what I'm trying to tell you."

Rebecca continues, deciding to further clarify her statement. "And yesterday. And the day before that." She pauses, finally looking into Andi's bright eyes. The eyes that so closely mimic her own. "And every single day of your life."

"What are you talking about?" Andi asks, now quiet. "You're scaring me."

Bex turns, chuckling lightly at the absurdity of it all. "You should be scared." Scared to have someone like me in your life. To have been the one to give you life. She grabs Andi's hands, holding them tightly as she savors the tiny connection. "Do you think that you're not in here?" She moves to grab the wooden box, her diary in a world so upside down she doesn't know left from right anymore. "You are." Carefully, she undoes the latch, opening the box as Andi peers over in unmasked curiosity. And, with a shaky breath, she pulls the faux back off the box and delicately pinches an aged photo, pulling it up for Andi to see. She doesn't need to see the picture to know it by heart-she has spent many cold, lonely nights staring at the photo with tears in her eyes. She could say that her hair was an obnoxious shade of red, growing a bit into her eyes because she was in desperate need of a hair cut. She could tell you that her body was small and worn, but her eyes were bright. And the little baby in her arms? Sleeping peacefully, snug and warm and content, unaware of the complexity her life would soon become.

"Is that you?" Andi squints, leaning closer.

Blowing out another breath, Bex nods. And, with a shaking finger, she points to her little bundle of joy. "And that's you." She sees Andi tilt her head in confusion, in interest, so she barrels on. She has to tell her before she puts the pieces together herself. "Andi, I'm not your sister." Those doe eyes look up at her and her confidence falters. She continues anyway. "I'm your mother."

And she can honestly say that she didn't mean for it to come out this way. Not that she really knew how she wanted it to come out in the first place. But definitely not in the way it did.

Not at ten o'clock at night, in her childhood bedroom made home gym made guest room. Not when it's dark and the mood is ominous and the entire conversation is completely unplanned. Not when she hasn't worked out an arrangement with her parents or righted her world again. Righted her world for the sake of Andi.

But it was all too much. Being back is too much. Her guilt is too much.

"You're my what?" Andi's in her face now, scowling in a way she hasn't previously been privy to.

"Your mother?" Bex stutters, her voice raising in question. "I'm your mother," she says more firmly.

"Mom! Mom!" Andi is screaming now and suddenly the Jonah Beck incident is seeming like heaven compared to now. Her thoughts are spiraling and she really didn't think this through. She knew that, logically, Andi would be upset and angry and confused and a vortex of emotions, but she wasn't prepared for the real thing. She was prepared for Andi casting her out of her life. Not the stuff in between-the figuring it out stuff. And she really wasn't prepared for the onslaught of emotions that hit her as well. The relief, the fear, the sadness, the crippling anxiety as she waited for a resolution.

Instead of all the thoughts swirling around her head, she gets out a, "No, please, she's going to be so mad." It's easier to deal with that than the impending doom that is her relationship with her daughter.

Andi points to her as Celia runs in, concern written all over her face. "She says she's my mother."

"Ham!" Celia is red in the face, tears ready to burst. Bex isn't sure whether they're from shock or anger or both. She knows her mother did not want her back, want her home. She knows that Andi is a success in her mother's eyes if she is not around. She is Rebecca 2.0 and Celia's greatest accomplishment. With that, Bex only continues to spiral.

"So this is all true?" Andi is incredulous, and Bex can't blame her. In just a few words, Andi's world was turned upside down. Her sister is her mother and her mother is her grandmother. Everything Andi has known to be true is a lie. And everyone in her life was in on it. And regardless of whether or not Bex had thought it was for the best, it's clear that she may have just ruined Andi's life.

"You had no right." And she wants to agree. She really does. But what's worse? Lying forever or being truthful now? There was never a good way for this elaborate fabrication to end.

"It just slipped out."

Within moments, Ham has entered the chaos that is now their life. "What's going on?"

"She knows!"

"My brain feels like it's melting!" Andi wipes her palms over her eyes in an action that seems to try to will the situation away. If only that could wipe away the last thirteen years, Bex thinks. Maybe I would have done this differently.

"How does she know?" Ham asks.

"I told her," Bex says, failing to shrug off the relentless guilt.

"You had no right," he repeats.

Andi shakes her head, fingers pointing. She looks to Celia. "You don't get to be upset." Turning to Ham, Andi says, "You don't get to be upset." Looking straight at Bex, she throws her hands up. "Nobody here gets to be upset but me. Because you all have been lying to me for my whole life." Andi turns to look at each of her 'parents,' waiting for a response. Something, anything, that will make this better. But there is no way to make this better. What's been said and done is the truth, through and through. "I can't be here right now," Andi says, her voice cracking ever so slightly. She pushes her way past Celia and out the door, making a mad dash for her Andi Shack. The one place that still feels like home. Probably because it's the only thing that's hers and hers alone.

"Andi-" Bex begins, making her way toward the door.

She's stopped by Celia. "No, I should be the one."

"No, please, Mom." Rebecca looks her in the eyes, pleading with her mother. "It's my job now."

Ham sighs, nodding along with Rebecca's statement. "We knew this day had to come." Granted, he believed it would be later, much later, but it had always been a ticking clock. Their countdown was over and Andi knew. They couldn't continue to live as though life wasn't any different. They could only move on.

"No, I didn't. I didn't know today was the day I was going to lose my daughter," Celia cries, her heart aching with the unexpected loss.

"I'm standing right in front of you."

Celia shakes her head, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "Not you," she says, missing the look of hurt on her daughter's face. Or maybe she just didn't want to see it. Because, if she didn't, she wouldn't have to face her past as well. Their past together, as mother and daughter.

Bex pushes past her parents, making her way outside and to the only place she can think of that Andi would run to this late at night. Andi is more important than her own demolished mother-daughter relationship. Gently pushing open the door, she sees her huddled child, whimpering slightly. She walks forward, reaching a hand out to place on Andi's back, until she thinks better of it. She wouldn't want to be touched right now either. Instead, she tries to prepare for the next conversation. As she thinks, she begins to look from wall to wall, desktop to desktop, smiling in awe. The art is something new and wonderful, something so talented and so 'Andi' that she has to smile.

"Please, don't touch anything," Andi mumbles, finally sitting up.

Getting a closer look at a lamp contraption, Bex asks, "Are these my CDs?"

Grimacing, Andi says, "Kinda. Sorry." And with that one word, Bex wants to laugh. She wants to grab Andi's shoulders and shake her until she realizes that the only person who should be apologizing is her. She's the one who left. She's the one who got them into this mess. She's the screw-up here. But here is her daughter, no more than thirteen years old, apologizing for something as little as CDs.

"Yeah, I'm real torn up I can't listen to Nickelback anymore," she scoffs instead. Taking a seat, she sighs as the inevitable topic of conversation is brought to the front burner. "Andi, I'm so, so sorry-"

"Stop," Andi says, angry. She halts her monologue of guilt at the sound, not wanting to make things worse. Andi deserves to talk. Deserves to have happen what she wants for once. "I can't. It's too weird. When I look at you, I see my cool sister out in the world having adventures on her motorcycle. But that's not who you are. You're my mother. Who abandoned me."

Bex wants to cry, she wants to curl up into a ball and accept her fate, but she can't let Andi think that for one second she was not wanted, that she was not loved. "That's not what happened." She lowers her voice. "Do you want to know what happened?"

"No." Her answer is quick, final. "Not right now," she says, looking away. Bex can see the turmoil marring her daughter's features.

"Whenever you're ready, I'll tell you everything, whatever you want to know."

"I just want to think about my text from Jonah for a while." Andi leans into her hand, almost content to think about the miraculous good instead of the uncalled for bad.

"That's a great idea." She can only imagine how difficult this must be. So she takes the bargain and stands up, walking toward the door, ready to give Andi some space. "You probably hate me. You probably should hate me. But I'll always love you and I always have. And you have that whether you want it or not." She takes one last look at her beautiful little girl before shutting the wooden door behind her. Standing in the dark, the biting chill of the night nipping at her skin, she lets the first tear drop. But just as quickly she wipes it away, scraping her cheeks with her palms, ignoring the twinge of pain, and walks back inside with her head held high.

Just as she's closing the back door, ready to make her way to the fridge for a glass of water, she hears a tiny voice murmur, "It's okay to cry." She turns to see her father, standing by the stairs, his lips turned downward.

She huffs, shaking her head and continuing her trek to the fridge. "Oh, really?" She asks, grabbing a glass from the counter and placing it under the tap. "I don't think so."

"And why is that?" He says, taking a seat at the table and folding his hands in front of him. "Your mother is crying." He takes a deep breath. "I'll probably cry at some point tonight."

She takes a seat across from him, sipping her water slowly. "You guys can. I mean, you lost your daughter."

He shakes his head, reaching out to put a hand over hers. "You're our daughter." He gives her a tiny smile, the best he can currently manage. "We didn't lose you."

"But-"

"We never lost you. You've always been our daughter." He takes his hand back, fiddling with his fingers. "And we didn't lose Andi. She knows she's not our daughter, but she's our family. She's still our little girl." At the sniffle from his daughter, he continues, "She's a little girl to all three of us."

Her eyes crinkle slightly; however, she is quick to disagree. "I messed up, Dad," she whispers. "And I don't get to cry about that." She turns her head toward the Andi Shack as she says, "I can't cry about what I did to myself." She turns back around. "I can't cry about what I did to Andi when she's also crying about it."

He sighs, a long, troubling sigh. "We've all made mistakes." He looks her in the eyes, nodding to affirm his statement. "We've made decisions that we thought were best at the time." He shrugs. "Sometimes life is funny that way. The things that seemed so promising are now your worst regrets." He tugs her hand into his palm. "We can still be upset though."

"I only wanted what was best for her." She sniffles. "Still do."

"As did we," Ham says. "But what's best for her is always changing. Maybe it was best for her to live with us. But her best has now changed. You knew it was time to be honest with her. And now the best thing for her is for us to be there for her, as a team." He rubs his thumb over her fingers, gently lulling her into a semi-calm state.

"What if I mess it up again?" Bex asks. "What if I mess things up even more?"

He grins, meeting her eyes once more. "Then you're human. And I know that you will be a good mother."

"What?"

"If you worry about those things, then you will be a good mother. You'll fight to make sure that doesn't happen." He stands up, walking over to place a tender kiss to the top of her head. And with a light whoosh of air, his words soft and comforting, he says, "Welcome to motherhood."

Thank you for reading! Please, please, please be a dear and leave a comment!