Amelia had always been fascinated by stars.
When she was a little girl, she'd lie in the grass for hours—looking up and counting every constellation she could recognize. She'd talk to them; tell them about any problems or insecurities she had—like they were her friends. Even then, years later—she still loved to lay on her back, looking up at the billions of twinkling orbs that lit the night sky.
Granted, the shingles of the townhome she shared with her mother wasn't nearly as comfortable as the grass in her grandparents back yard; but—it was a lot less itchy.
She also couldn't see nearly as many stars; they were all drowned out by streetlights and the skyline of New York City.
"Amelia?" She heard her mother's voice call through her open window, and she groaned. She wasn't ready to go back inside just yet.
She heard the curtain move behind her, waves of red hair blocking her view of the sky. "Excuse me," She grumbled, pushing her mother's hair out of her face.
"It's time for dinner," Addison planted a kiss on her forehead before putting her hands under her daughters back, helping her sit up. She held her hand as Amelia climbed back through her window, releasing it once her feet were safely planted on her bedroom floor.
"I'm not hungry," Amelia objected, plopping down on her bed, burying her face into her pillow. She felt her mother's hand rub her back gently, and she groaned, rolling over to look at her.
"You need to eat, sweetheart," Addison said, grabbing her hand and pulling her off of the bed. "C'mon—I made your favorite." Her mother planted a soft kiss on the top of her head, her hand resting for a moment on her daughter's brunette curls.
The two of them made their way downstairs, and just as they were sitting down to start eating—they were greeted with a knock on the front door. "I'll get it," Amelia offered, getting up and heading to the front door. She opened it—and was greeted by the widest, goofiest smile she'd ever seen.
"Happy birthday, kiddo!" Mark Sloan bellowed, wrapping his arms around the teenager, lifting her up off the ground, and spinning her in circles around the foyer.
"Mark!" She shrieked, trying in vain to wiggle her way out of his grip. She heard her mother erupt in a fit of laughter from behind them, presumably in the doorway of the kitchen.
Amelia finally managed to convince him to put her down, and she tried her hardest to throw a glare at him—but the room was spinning to the point where she wasn't even sure where he was.
Mark leaned back out the doorway, grabbing two present bags and a bundle of purple balloons as Addison lead her daughter back into the dining room. Amelia narrowed her eyes as the closest thing she'd ever had to a father entered the room.
"I thought we agreed—no presents," She kept her voice fairly lighthearted, but Amelia had never been a fan of her birthday. It drew way too much attention in her direction.
"Your mother and I never agreed to anything," he said, putting the presents down and kissing the top of Addison's head. Amelia fake-retched, earning a glare from both Addison and Mark.
Soon after, they were all seated, making casual conversation in between bites of food. "So," Addison said, her voice suddenly filled with emotion. "How does it feel to be fifteen? God, I'm getting old… You know, when I was fifteen—"
"Mom," Amelia interjected. "It feels no different than being fourteen."
"Oh, come on," Mark said emphatically, raising an eyebrow at the teenager. "You've got to feel older or wiser, or… something?"
"Or something," Amelia replied, rolling her eyes and taking a bite of her food.
After they'd finished eating, Addison shuffled off to the kitchen—her face a little too excited for Amelia's comfort. The redhead resurfaced after a few minutes, holding a small birthday cake with fifteen flickering candles on top of it. She and Mark, to the girl's embarrassment, started singing happy birthday once the cake was set down in front of her.
"Make a wish," Addison said, her hand resting gently on her daughter's back.
Amelia closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and after she'd made her wish—she blew out the candles. Addison and Mark cheered, and she felt the blood rush to her face—causing her to cheeks to blush a bright crimson.
"What'd ya wish for, kid?" Mark asked, already cutting himself a slice of cake.
"You ask this every year, and every year—you get the same answer. I'm not telling you," Amelia said, pursing her lips and fighting off a smile.
After they had their cake, Amelia opened the two presents from Mark—her jaw dropping when she saw the logo on the box she'd pulled from the bigger of the two bags.
"You got me a Macbook?" Her voice rose three octaves, her crystal blue eyes widening with pure surprise. "Mark, I can't accept this—it's way too much…"
"You can, and you will," He retorted, holding a hand up in her direction. "Plus, it's from both of us." He nodded his head toward Addison, and Amelia could've sworn she saw her mother blush out of the corner of her eye. She eyed them speculatively but pushed her suspicions about the two of them being back together from her mind. She went back to opening her gifts; they'd also gotten her a new phone, a case, and tickets to see her favorite Broadway musical the following weekend.
Amelia, after thanking them profusely, made her way back upstairs and into her bedroom—where she spent the next half-hour or so setting up her new phone.
As soon as everything was activated, the sound of her ringtone scared her to the point where she'd almost thrown her new phone across the room. She saw the name on the screen, and quickly slid the screen to answer it.
"Finally!" Her best friend's voice bellowed through the speaker. "I've been trying to call you for like, three days."
Amelia rolled her eyes, snorting as she took her phone off of speakerphone, holding it to her ear. "I was only out of commission for 30 minutes."
"Same thing," He rebutted before changing the subject. "So, are you ready for this?"
"I've been ready for weeks, Reese," Amelia snapped, annoyance clear in her tone. "I paid you weeks ago," She reminded him.
"These things take time," he replied defensively. "Especially when the only thing you have to go off of is his name."
"Not my fault my mother decided to keep him a secret," She said quietly, getting up from her bed, quiet footfalls taking her to her bedroom door. She quietly turned the lock before reaching for her TV remote—turning the volume up to block out her conversation with Reese.
"Anyway, here's what I found—Derek Cristopher Shepherd; currently resides in Seattle, Washington. Chief of Surgery at Seattle Grace Hospital… no previous arrests, impeccable credit—oh, and congrats, bestie—you're a big sister," Reese's voice made it obvious he was trying to make a joke, but Amelia definitely wasn't laughing; the lump that had formed in her throat was making sure of that.
"H-He has a kid?" She asked, having to force the question out of her mouth.
"He has three—well, four, including you," he answered, not realizing the massive bomb he'd just dropped on her. "Looks like he's also married to—" before he could finish his sentence, Amelia hung up the phone, feeling it slip from her hand.
"Amelia?" Her mother's voice called through her bedroom door, and she heard the doorknob shake as Addison attempted to open it. "Amelia, why is the door locked?"
The sound of her heart pounding in her ears drowned out everything else, the familiar feeling of a panic attack creeping into the pit of her stomach. She sunk to the floor next to her bed, hugging her knees close to her chest and resting her forehead on top of them.
Breathe, she reminded herself. Just breathe.
"Amelia Montgomery—you've got until the count of three to open this door before I kick it in," Mark called, breaking through her disassociation. Well, that was dramatic.
How long had she been sitting there?
The teenager crawled over to the door, reaching up and turning the lock before scooting back to her spot on the floor. Addison's concerned features appearing in front of her was her breaking point, her panic attack crashing into her like a freight train. "Hey," Addison said softly, sitting on the floor and pulling her daughter into her arms. "Amelia, what happened, sweetheart?"
Tears were flowing freely, sobs shaking her petite frame in Addison's arms. She tried to get the words out, but the harder she tried—the tighter her throat felt. She felt her mother's hand in her hair, and her heartrate instantly started to decrease toward its normal pace.
Addison was the only person who could ever calm her down when her panic attacks took over; it was pretty inconvenient when they'd happen while she was at school or sleeping at a friend's house.
"Amelia, please—you're scaring me," Addison said softly, glancing up at Mark—who was hovering in the doorway. "Talk to me… what brought this one on?"
"Just came out of nowhere," She lied, her sobs slowing into quiet hiccups.
"Okay, you're okay…" Addison cooed, nodding up at Mark, who nodded back before giving them some privacy. He'd seen this almost as many times as Addison and knew there wasn't much he could do.
Addison helped her daughter up, Amelia still shaking from the aftershocks of her panic attack. She sat on the edge of her bed, her mother helping her change into her pajamas and tucking her in. She pressed a gently kiss to her daughter's forehead before turning the light off and opening the door to exit the room.
"Mommy," Amelia called quietly behind Addison, and the redhead turned around—her heart swelling because of that one single word. It'd been years since Amelia called her mommy.
"Yes, sweetheart?" Addison asked, walking back over to her daughter.
"Don't go," She muttered feebly, her face half tucked beneath her comforter.
There it was. Addison felt her heart swell even more, and she knew she couldn't leave her girl if she tried. She called a quick goodbye to Mark before crawling into Amelia's bed, scooching close and wrapping her arm protectively around her daughter.
"Goodnight, sweet girl," Addison said, pressing a kiss to Amelia's hair before drifting off to sleep.
But, as exhausted as she was—Amelia struggled to fall asleep, the information Reese had given her replaying in her mind on a loop.
She never understood why her mother had been so secretive regarding her father. The only reason Amelia had even found out his name was because she managed to sneak a peak at her birth certificate one day when Addison had forgotten to lock the safe before leaving for work.
Was he a bad person? Was he dangerous? He must not have been, if he had a wife, kids, and was running a hospital. Then why was Addison so secretive about him?
Did he even know about her? If he didn't, how would he react when he found out? And if he did—why didn't he reach out? Why didn't he make some attempt to see her? Did he care about her at all?
These questions had always eaten away at her, but now it festered—like an itch in the middle of her back that she couldn't reach. She heard her mother's breathing slow, signifying she'd fallen into a deeper sleep. Amelia grabbed her phone, turning the brightness down and opening Google.
Flights from New York to Seattle.