The sound of the shower running pulls me out of my head. I open the door to my balcony, letting the fresh air fill my living room, watching as the parking lot's lights slowly come on. I quickly make my way downstairs to my car, pulling our bags out and doing my best to get rid of any evidence of Cordy's injury. I find the pages that Sam and Cordy were drawing on before; one symbol stands out. It is the same one tattooed on Sam's chest. Others are more intricate, looking almost like Gaelic markings.

I carefully put the papers back, taking the bags upstairs. The shower is still running as I pass the bathroom, and I quietly open my bedroom door and slip in. I set Cordy's bag down, reaching in to grab a set of pajamas and do my best to change her clothes without waking her up. Cordy briefly stirs, a soft groan coming from her mouth, but her eyes stay closed. I move the giant bear Cas had given her to the floor and place the one from my parents' house in her arms.

I lay down next to Cordy and watch her sleep for a few minutes, taking in her features. Everyone always says she looks like me, and while I can't deny that she does, all I see is Sam. I roll off the bed when I hear the shower turn off, walk into my closet to grab an old shoebox, and a photo album off the top shelf. They will help Sam to get to know Cordy better. I silently exit my room, stifling a yelp when I nearly run into Sam standing outside my door.

"Sorry," he laughs softly and looks behind me as I close the door. "Corie still sleeping?"

"Yeah," I glance briefly over my shoulder, "always been a heavy sleeper."

"What's this, Ella?" Sam asks, looking down at the items in my hands.

"Thought you'd want to see some pictures of Cordy. There's some other stuff in there too. Here." I hand the shoebox and album over. "Will you listen for her?"

A long, hot shower helps me refocus. Hopeful thoughts of Sam being permanently in our lives swirl in my brain, trying to figure out how we could make everything work. Sam wants us to leave, start over with him, move in with him and Dean. A fresh start in a new place. I wouldn't have to hide the fact that Cordy's my daughter, I want nothing more than that, but it isn't about what I want or need. It's about what's best for Cordy.

I pull on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, knowing that we won't be going anywhere for the rest of the night. Finishing in the bathroom, I find Sam sitting on the couch with the photo album on his lap, smiling as he flips the pages, lightly running his fingers over the pictures. The shoebox is open, but nothing has been removed, it's full of keepsakes and photos of Cordy from when she was an infant.

While Sam's still occupied with the photo album, I grab two beers out of my fridge and order a pizza. He smiles as I take a seat next to him, handing him one of the beers and laugh as I glance down to see the series of pictures on the pages.

"Cordy's seventh birthday," I explain, before taking a sip of my beer. "Princess-themed, of course." Cordy's in a shimmery green dress, tiara adorning her head, grinning broadly at the camera. "She'd just lost her two front teeth, you wouldn't know it from this picture, but she was sobbing the whole morning before the party."

Sam chuckles as he continues going through the book, looking to me for stories behind the pictures. I watch as he looks at each one with such intensity, asking questions, wanting to learn all the information he can about her as if he wouldn't get the opportunity in the future.

I pull the shoebox into my lap. "You didn't look at anything in here?"

"No," Sam smiles. "I wasn't sure if you wanted me to wait for you."

We make our way through the box. I pull out Cordy's baby blanket and both of our ID bracelets from the hospital. Underneath are the photos that Cordy was asking for, ones that we would never display at home. I pull an envelope out from the bottom of the box, already knowing what's in it, and hand it over to Sam. He opens it carefully, pulling out the photos from the day Cordy was born. I lean against him, and he wraps his arm around me, eyes sparkling as he looks over them.

"I wasn't going to have any pictures taken that day," I offer when he looks at me. "I was giving her away, but my cousin insisted, told me it would help with closure or something."

"Why didn't you?" He asks, looking up from the photo. "Go through with the adoption?"

"The rational part of me wanted to, and my mom told me that it was the smart thing to do, the responsible thing. I had a couple picked out and everything, even met them a few times. They were really nice, both in their thirties, good jobs. But the second the doctor put her on my chest, I looked at this little girl, who'd been growing inside me, she was both of us- and she was the one piece of you I had left. When mom and dad came to take me home, I had to beg them to let me keep her. Dad had one condition; they would be the ones raising her."

A knock on the door pulls me away from Sam, who continues to study each picture. I hadn't eaten anything real in days, relying on hospital vending machines to keep me fed, and I want to devour the pizza in my hands.

"Sam? You hungry?" I ask as I walk into my kitchen, pulling out a slice and devouring it. "Sam?" I pull another piece out, putting it onto a plate. "Hello, Earth to Sam," he doesn't look up from the picture in his hand but nods, looking like he's committing the image to memory.

"This was about a month after she was born?" He asks, looking down into the box and grabbing another photo.

I walk around the table, sitting next to him again, placing the food in front of him. I catch sight of the date on the back of the picture he's holding. December 2003. I'd forgotten about some of these; they brought up painful memories of the abandonment I felt after Cordy's birth. Sam places the picture on the table, and I pick it up, softly chuckling as I look over it. Cordy's in a red and green onesie, a similarly striped hat with elf ears attached, I think back to that day, remembering how fussy she was, and how only one person was able to keep her calm.

"Yeah," I mutter, glancing over to the picture he's now holding, hoping that maybe it isn't my other one I think it is. Crap. Sam's jaw clenches as he turns the picture over, and I see my neat handwriting. Cordelia Mary and Papa John, December 2003. "First Christmas."

Sam's voice is low, tinged with restrained anger, "dad, he- he met her?"

"J-just," I stammer, Dean's words replaying in my head. There's no point in lying; he's going to see the two or three other pictures of John and Cordy. "Just a couple of times," I try to downplay it.

He grabs two more and studies them both with intensity. I recognize them both immediately; they are two of my favorite photos, the ones I planned to show Cordy whenever she learned the truth and asked about Sam and his family. We didn't know it at the time, but it was the last time we would see John. Cordy's sitting in his lap, hands on his face and laughing wildly; John's hardened features were nowhere in sight, beaming at the toddler, unaware that anyone had a camera in their hands.

The second photo still had Cordy in John's lap, a broad toothy grin on her face. It was one of the few times I was able to voluntarily get a picture of John with Cordy. I watch as Sam's eyes narrow, unsure of how he is going to react. He flips the picture over, letting out a sharp breath.

"June 2006," Sam whispers, his face hardens, but there are hints of regret and anger in his voice. "June 2006?" he repeats, looking at me for confirmation.

"Yeah, 'round Father's Day. We didn't-" From what Dean told me, I figure John must've died not long after visiting that final time.

"He died a month after these pictures were taken," Sam mutters, unknowingly confirming my suspicions. "H-he had just seen her, and he still didn't tell me. That last day- he knew- he knew he was gonna die." The regret and apparent sadness in his tone are gone; only anger is coming through now. "Now, looking back... Fuck!" His voice grows louder, and he's off my couch, hands running over his face as he frantically paces in front of me. "I've made some mistakes, Sam…and I don't wanna fight anymore. It was you, Corie…"

"He must've thought he was keeping us safe," I offer, "Dean said-"

"Dean knew?" Sam stills for a moment, turning to face me, his whole body tense, and his face crimson. "Dean knew this whole time?"

"No," I say, shaking my head. "I told him that earlier. Please, Sam, calm down."

"Ella, you don't get it," Sam's hands rake through his hair. "Dad, he- he took both of you from me. He made me think that you hated me, wanted nothing more to do with me. This is all his fault."

"You know that's not true, Sam."

"You're defending him?" His voice is laced with accusation. "After everything?"

"I'm- I'm not." I gather the photos, putting them back into the shoebox. "Both of our parents lied and manipulated us. Both. My parents are- were just as guilty." I take in a long breath, trying to keep myself level-headed. "Neither of us had any reason to question what they told us."

"Dad- he just couldn't face the fact that I wanted out. He wanted me to stay under his control. He hated that I found something normal, something-" I watch as Sam walks in circles, I've never seen him like this before, the anger practically radiating off of him. "He lied, over and over again," Sam stops again, his eyebrows furrowing as he looks over at me. "How are you not upset?"

"Sam, I'm probably more pissed off than you are, but I can't focus on that right now." I reach out to him, not knowing what else to do to calm him down. "The only thing that I can think about is Cordy. Maybe once things have settled down, I'll go take it out on a punching bag, you're free to join me." Bitterness starts to grow inside me, and I can't stop the next words from leaving me. "If you're still around."

Sam stops dead in his tracks, a mixture of hurt and anger play on his face. "You think I'm going somewhere?" A wave of regret rolls through me; this isn't the time to bring up the topic of him potentially leaving. "I'm just going to abandon you again? That's all I've ever done, right? Let down the people I love? If you don't want me in your life Ella, all you have to do is say so."

"I didn't- That's not what I said, Sam." I can feel my heart beating faster as I try to keep myself calm. "You are twisting my words, and you know it."

"Yes, you did," Sam argues, his hands balled up into fists. "You told me that you'd take her away. You will not take another person that I love away from me. I won't allow it."

"Sam, calm down, please," I beg, standing up to meet him. I tuck a piece of his hair back, trying my best to calm him. "Just sit back down, and we can talk about this."

"You can't hide her forever, Ella," he snaps back, grabbing at my wrist. "She's a Winchester, in name or not; she's my blood."

"Let go of me, Sam," I ask, doing my best to mask my fear and growing anger. I try pulling away from him, but my wrist is already aching from his hold. "Sam."

"You can't change that. Cordy belongs with me, you both do, you're mine." Sam's grip on my wrist tightens.

"You're hurting me," I say as calmly as I can, pain already radiating around his grasp. This isn't my Sam, the person I fell in love with all those years ago. 'One day, you'll see the real Sam, the hunter,' John's voice is as clear as the day he said it to me. I'd only seen a glimpse of this Sam before, and for the first time, he is the thing I'm afraid of. "Let. Go. Of. Me."

"You will not keep me from my daughter. You need me. Only I can protect her from what's out there. What are you going to do if something comes after you? You freeze."

The words sting and I have to choke back my tears. Sam's eyes widen, he loosens his grip, and I yank my arm away. I examine my wrist for a moment, seeing the hand-shaped bruise already starting to form. My eyes meet Sam's, the anger drains from his features and is replaced with regret.

"Ella," his voice softens, "I didn't-"

My hand flies through the air before I even realize it, my palm connecting with the side of his face. A loud thwack fills the quiet of my apartment.

"Fuck you, Sam. Cordy's yours? She belongs to you?" The dam that I've been holding onto for the last eleven years finally breaks. "She may be your blood, but she is mine too, you have no rights to her, and you don't get to act like her father all of a sudden. That ship has sailed." Sam opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

"You left. You took the cowards way out and just took everything your dad had to say and didn't even question it. You can blame John and my parents all you want, but none of them forced you to leave. You made that choice, Sam." Everything I've suppressed saying for the last week comes out with a vengeance.

"They told me-"

"I don't care what they told you, Sam; it doesn't matter anymore. You thought I wasn't going to have her? You knew me better than anyone, and you didn't think that I still needed you? Whatever decision you thought I made, you think I didn't want you around? Didn't you think that if I went through with that appointment, that I wouldn't have wanted you there to hold my hand through it? You still walked away, Sam. You left me pregnant and alone. You didn't even think to come and try to talk to me again? You keep talking about wanting her to know who you are, and I barely even know who you are anymore!"

"John didn't abandon me, us. He didn't promise to take me away, then disappear," I spit, walking back a few feet, unconsciously putting myself between him and the door to my bedroom. It dawns on me that I couldn't actually stop him from walking in there if he wants to, and it terrifies me.

"He barely even knew me. And if he were still alive, he would have probably kept you off the case that brought you back here. From what Dean told me, he was trying to keep us safe, and as much as I hate him for how he did it, I understand why. There is nothing I wouldn't do for that little girl in there." I say, trying my best to keep my voice low and gesture towards my door. "All you've done this week is push me, and ignore all of my wishes. You and Dean plotted to get Cas to heal Cordy without even speaking to me first-"

"I did." Sam argues, "At the hospital."

"At the hospital," I echo. "Where I explicitly told you that I wanted to take things slow, break all this to Cordy gently, yet you've argued with me about it every step of the way. Then you try to get Cas to change the memories of my daughter. Did you think that was going to fix everything, Sam?"

"I just thought-" My hand connects with his cheek again, an angry red mark left in its wake.

"Fuck you. You were only thinking about yourself. You want to ease your guilt, fine, but that's not going to do it. You honestly think that's the best way to know her? By manipulating her into believing that you've always been there? I'm the one who's always been there for her. You weren't there when I was in labor for fifteen hours in more pain than I've ever experienced in my entire life. I was all alone while you were off in California living your dream. You weren't the one doing midnight feedings, being up for hours on end when she had the croup. I'm the one who had to watch her call someone else 'mom' for the past 8 years, and I did it for her because I love her more than anything else in the entire world." I brush away the angry tears, unable to contain them. "I'm the one who's about to destroy everything she knows, the one she's gonna hate. You are a stranger to her, and in a couple of weeks, she'll forget all about you."

"Ella, you can't-"

"Don't you dare tell me what I can and can't do, Sam Winchester. If you'd stop being a selfish fucking asshole for five minutes, you'd understand that I'm doing this for Cordy. I would happily trade my life for my parents just like John did for Dean, just so Cordy would have a normal, safe life."

"You can come to Kansas-"

"Are you fucking kidding me, Sam?" I cut him off as I scoff in disbelief. It's like he hasn't heard a word I've said. "You want me to drop everything so that we can live in some bunker in Kansas? You haven't given me a single reason why I should allow you to be in Cordy's life besides the fact that she is biologically yours. You aren't her dad, and she doesn't need you. We don't need you." I immediately regret my words, but I know I can't back down. "Now, please," I say, moving towards my door, his eyes following me, "get the fuck out of my apartment."

"Ella—" Sam moves towards me, chest puffed out and nostrils flaring. With every step he takes towards me, I can feel my heart beating faster.

"No, Sam. How're you going to keep us safe?" Fear drives the anger in my next words, "What about Jessica, Sam? Didn't she die on your watch? You couldn't protect her, and I will not allow that to happen to my daughter." He stands there, almost in disbelief of what he heard.

"Fuck you, Ella," he huffs harshly, exiting my apartment, "Tell Corie-" I slam the door in his face before he can finish whatever he is going to say. I lean back against the door, body trembling with residual rage and trepidation that he might attempt to force his way back in. Sam had never frightened me before, but what just happened, scared the crap out of me. I reach up and bolt the door, turning to look through the peephole to see him finally walking away.

I pray that Cordy is still sleeping as I head to my bedroom. By some miracle, she is. I place a kiss on her forehead and walk to my dresser, where I've hidden a pack of cigarettes. Pulling it out, along with my lighter, I head towards my balcony, leaving the door cracked so that I can hear Cordy if she wakes up. Sam appears at the building's entrance, his features shadowed as he makes his way into the parking lot. I light the cigarette and take a long drag, watching as he turns to look up to where I am standing, and his shoulders slump, seemingly in defeat.

I don't even realize that I am crying until I feel the tears plopping onto my hand. I take another drag as I let myself cry, needing to let the tears wash away all my anger before I go back in. Sam had pushed and pushed, and I couldn't take it anymore. I'd told him repeatedly that he needed to let me reveal the truth to Cordy in my own way. And now he thinks she "belongs" to him? I can't believe he said that. I've never seen him act so possessive. The rumble of the Impala pulls me from my thoughts, realizing that I've lost track of time as my cigarette has burnt out.

Tossing the stub into the ashtray on the railing, I light another cigarette and chuckle, "Sorry about your date, Dean."

I watch as the boys argue, the unintelligible sound of their muffled conversation drifts up to my balcony. Sam's voice rises in anger, and Dean scrubs a hand over his face, nodding his head. A moment later, he claps Sam on the shoulder and walks towards the breezeway.

I've almost finished my cigarette when I hear a knock at my door. Sighing, I put it out and make my way back inside. I catch sight of my wrist and grab a sweater, slipping it on and pulling the sleeves down to cover the rapidly forming bruise.

I walk slowly towards the door, eyeing Dean through the peephole, hands shoved into his pockets. "Go away, Dean," I huff loud enough for him to hear me.

"Ellie, come on, it's just me." His body sways like he's shifting on his feet.

I hesitate, Dean's not the one I'm mad at, but I know he's here on Sam's behalf.

"Please, just give me five minutes?"

I take a deep breath and unbolt the door. Opening it a crack, I grumble, "Cordy's sleeping. I swear to God if you wake her up-" He raises a hand in surrender, and I open the door to let him in. "What do you want, Dean?"

"It's Sam-" Dean sheepishly shrugs his shoulders, "he asked me to talk to you. He's really upset, Ellie. Whatever happened between you; for what it's worth, he's sorry."

"He's sorry?" I scoff, "Well, that just fixes everything, doesn't it?"

"C'mon, Ellie, don't be like that. This last week hasn't been easy for him."

"Oh, it hasn't been easy for Sam?" I snap, rolling my eyes. "Well, you know, it's just been sunshine and fucking rainbows for me."

"Ellie," Dean sighs, "I know, and I'm sorry. He wants to know his kid, though."

"You don't think that's something I want too? All I've wanted, for years, is for Sam to come back around." I step to the side, allowing Dean to enter my apartment. I take a frantic peek into the walkway, afraid that Sam might be there, relief flows through me when I see the empty hall. "But the Sam I saw tonight?" I shut the door behind me. "I've only ever seen him like that one other time; when he was with your dad. He punched a fucking hole in the wall of his motel room."

I unconsciously rub my arm, and the sleeve of my sweater rides up, exposing the dark red imprint of Sam's hand.

"Ellie!" Dean's eyes widen at the sight of it, and he quickly closes the space between us. I wince when he takes my arm in his hand. "Sam did this?" Dean questions in disbelief, and I bite my lip and nod when he looks up briefly. He examines it cautiously before making his way into my kitchen, the rustling of drawers opening and closing fills the silence in my apartment. Dean returns with an ice pack and towel. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," I half-lie, hoping Dean can't see through it. He guides us to my table, his eyes meet mine, and he sucks in a sharp breath. He wraps the pack in the towel before carefully wrapping it around my wrist. "One minute it was like how it used to be, the next-"

"What happened?" Dean frowns, his forehead wrinkling.

"I was showing him some pictures of Cordy," I gesture to the shoebox, still sitting on my coffee table. "I'd forgotten that there were some with John, Sam saw them, and he lost it." Dean didn't need to know the awful words that were exchanged between us in the heat of the moment. "I was trying to calm him down, and it only seemed to make it worse."

"Ellie, you gotta know that he would never do something like that on purpose."

"That's what I always thought; that he could never be like that with me. And if that's the "real" Sam your dad warned me about, then he can't be around Cordy." Dean lifts the towel and shakes his head. "As much as I still love Sam, I love Cordy more, and her happiness is more important than his."

Dean opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out, and he nods reluctantly.

"What's wrong with Sam, Dean?" I break the growing silence between us; Dean seems caught off-guard by my question. "That wasn't my Sam, the person I fell in love with, the person I've been waiting for the last ten years to come back and take me away."

"Ellie," Dean hesitates, "it's not-"

"You have to tell me. If Sam's sick-"

"You're right." Dean murmurs in agreement. He sucks in a deep breath, and I can tell that he's trying to carefully choose his words. "Sam's going through something, and it's been taking a toll on him. He- he's been trying to hide it, and some days he does really well, but others-" He shakes his head again. "This wasn't about you; it was about dad." Dean looks up, his emerald eyes meeting mine for the first time since we sat down. "Don't give up on him."

"I don't want to, Dean," I can feel the tears forming, and I take a deep breath, not wanting to cry again. "But it's not about what I want or what Sam wants. And he can't keep making demands. He lost that right a long time ago."

"That's not fair, Ellie."

"I know it's not, but that's too bad. Do you think this has been easy for me? I can't just throw all this information at Cordy. She's trying to adjust to the fact that her parents are dead, and now I'm supposed to just tell her, 'by the way, those weren't your parents, I'm your mom and that Sam guy you met twice, he's your dad.' What do you think that would do to her?"

"I-I guess I didn't think about it like that."

"No, you didn't." I snap, and then immediately curse myself for taking my anger out on Dean. He's only trying to help. "' M sorry," I take a long calming breath. "But until Sam's done with whatever he's going through, I can't- I can't have him in my life, Dean. Not when I've got someone else to think about."

Dean nods his head reluctantly. "Cordy's lucky to have you."

I walk to the coffee table and pull the shoebox towards me as I rummage through it. The first photo is easy enough to find—the one from her last birthday. I sit down as I hand the photo to Dean, still going through the box, finding the envelope and pulling out a picture. I look at it and smile, handing it over to Dean.

"Cordelia Mary Jameson, Nov. 17, 2003, 5:26 pm, 5 lbs 6 oz." He smiles as he reads the back of the picture. He tries to hand them back to me, and I shake my head.

"I want you to keep them." Dean's smile grows wider as he studies the two pictures in his hands.

"Thank you, Ellie, he'll love it. Shit, I love it."

My fingers land on John and Cordy's picture, and I pause for a moment before pulling it out and handing it over to Dean.

"Papa John?" Dean lets out a laugh when he looks at the back. "You didn't actually call him that, did you?"

I shrug my shoulders and let out a dry laugh. "Only sometimes."

"June 2006?" I see Dean's jaw tick as he makes the same connections Sam did. He lets out a sharp exhale and tosses the picture back into the box.

"You should leave Weldon." I sigh as I stand and wrap my arms around myself. "You and Sam should go back to Kansas. I think it would best if we had some space between us."

"Sam's not gonna like that, Ellie."

"I know he's not. J-just get him whatever help he needs, not for me, for Cordy. Both of you are right, Cordy's going to need her father, but the Sam who made an appearance earlier? That Sam cannot be a part of our lives."

Dean pulls me in for a hug, holding me tight, and places a gentle kiss on my forehead. Dean pockets the photos, then grabs the notepad and pen lying on the side table, and scribbles something on the paper. He tears the page from the pad, handing it to me as he puts the pen and notepad back where he found them. He's listed a PO Box in Lebanon, Kansas, under the name Campbell, along with a series of phone numbers. I lean over to the table and write down my number, folding the piece of paper in half as I hand it to Dean.

Dean gives my arm a gentle squeeze and sweetly smiles as he makes his way out of my apartment. "Take care of yourself. And my niece."

"I will," I nod slightly. "Dean?" I take another deep breath. "Please, watch out for him."

"I always have Ellie."

I close and lock the door, pressing my forehead against the cool wood in an attempt to calm my nerves. Moments pass, and I push away from the door with an exasperated sigh and head to the kitchen to grab a fresh beer before making my way back out to my balcony.

Sam is pacing in the parking lot as Dean approaches him and gives Sam the photos. Even from a distance, I can tell he is smiling. He moves past Dean, making his way back towards the building, and my heart stops for a second. Dean moves in front of Sam, putting his hands on his chest. Sam's body language instantly changes; he squares his shoulders and stands to his full height, almost as if he were challenging his brother.

"We can't leave!" Sam's voice booms through the empty lot as he pushes against Dean until they are almost below my balcony. "We need to be here; I need to be here."

"Sammy, listen," Dean's voice has also increased in volume as he braces an arm across Sam's chest, trying to prevent him from moving any closer. "These trials, man. They're affecting you more than you think."

Trials?

"I'm fine, Dean." Sam shoves Dean hard in the chest, making him stumble backward. "What's affecting me is knowing that I have a kid, and her mother is keeping me away from her."

"I don't know what exactly happened between you and Ellie tonight, but Sam," Dean's tone is no longer placating, aggravation tinges every word, "you scared the crap outta her. Ellie may have put on a brave face, but man, you can't take your anger out on her. She knows something is going on with you, and she's right, until you finish these trials, you can't be around her or Cordy."

"I can't- Dean, I can't just leave her again," Sam's voice breaks, and I let out a choked sob that brings their attention up to me. "I'm not- Ella, I'm not gonna let you go," Sam pleads. "I won't make that mistake again. I love you Ella, and I want to be with you."

I open my mouth to speak but bite back the words. I want to tell him to stay, but after what I saw tonight, I can't.

"She wants that too, Sammy," Dean softens his voice, looking back up to me. "But we're gonna respect her wishes, and we're gonna go home."

Dean gives me a slight nod, and I walk back inside, unable to listen to their conversation any longer. Their stifled voices seep through the balcony door as I make my way back to the couch. I take a long swig of my beer, setting it on the table as I reach for the box of photos. Going through the stack once again, I take mental notes of which ones I need to make copies. It's about twenty minutes before I can no longer hear them arguing, and after a couple of moments, the roar of the Impala's engine breaks the silence, slowly fading into the distance as they drive away.

I pull out the envelope that contains all of the pictures from the time Cordy was born to shortly before her first birthday. The last picture in the stack is one that my cousin took only minutes after Cordy was born. Cordy is wrapped in a white blanket with small pastel figures on it, a striped pink beanie with a bow on her head. She's propped up against my legs, and I'm taking in all her features, smiling broadly at her. I hear a chirp come from my phone, but I ignore it, continuing to relive the pleasant memories the images in front of me contain.

I don't even realize that I've fallen asleep until a rustling wakes me. I crack an eye open, vision still blurry from sleep, to see an outline of someone sitting across from me. I rub my eyes and blink to let my eyes focus. Cordy is sitting on the floor on the other side of my coffee table, studying something in her hands.

"Whatcha got there, kid?" I croak out as I sit up, voice hoarse from last night's shouting. As I lean forward to get a closer look at what she's holding, sheer panic fills me. I realize the shoebox is still open, and all my once-hidden photos are now on display.

"It's a picture of a baby." Cordy's eyebrows furrow as she continues to study the image.

She flips the photo over, and I can feel my heart race as her eyes scan down to the bottom. "November 2003," Cordy whispers. "Is that me?"

Cordy finally looks up to meet my gaze. A crease in her forehead deepens as she puts the photo down, and I get a look at it. "Where are mom and dad?" She's putting it all together, grabbing photo after photo, studying each one, and growing upset. "Why aren't they in any of these?"

Cordy's eyes search my face for answers. I never imagined I'd tell her like this.

"Was I adopted?" Cordy's eyes fill with tears.

"No," I state firmly, shaking my head. "Of course not."

"You aren't telling me something," she picks up another picture. I struggle to find my words. "Tell me," Cordy demands.

"C' mere, kid," I say as calmly as I can, patting the space on the couch next to me. She hesitates, and I can see all the questions forming in her head. "Please, Cordy."

She moves towards me, sitting down slowly, as she reaches for another photo, but I stop her.

"You know how dad told you about our cousin, the one I lived with before you were born?" Cordy nods, I know she's connecting the dots already, but I want her to hear it from me. "Mom and dad sent me away to live with her because I was pregnant."

"You had a baby?"

I ignore the question, searching through the photos for a moment, and find one from the day Cordy was born. "You asked why there were no pictures from the day when you were born? There are, but mom and dad aren't in them, they weren't there." I turn the photo over and show it to her, the same one I was looking at before I fell asleep. "I'm not your sister, Cordy. I'm- I'm your mom."

"No, you're lying." Cordy springs from the couch and takes a few steps away from me.

"No, I'm not." Tears well in her eyes, and I struggle to keep my own at bay.

"You are!" she screams, and runs into my room, slamming the door behind her. The click of the lock is like a punch to my gut. My whole body shakes as I stand, using every ounce of strength I have left not to break down. I pull myself together as best I can, and walk towards my bedroom, softly knocking on the door.

"Cordy? Please, let me explain." I hear muffled cries coming from the other side of the door. "You can hate me all you want, but it's not going to change anything. I told you the other day, it's just you and me now. Cordy, please, let me in."

Silence. I turn and slide down to sit on the floor. Sighing, I thump my head back against the wood, mentally kicking myself for not putting everything away the second Sam left. Then I could've avoided this, and waited to tell her as I had planned. After about an hour, I pull myself up off the floor and look at the kitchen clock. 11 am. She's been with me for less than twenty-four hours, and I've royally fucked up with her twice already.

I grab my tablet from it's designated spot in my living room and try to figure out the next step from here. Unfortunately, Google can't help with "telling a sibling you're actually their parent." I search for Lacey's card, hoping that she can give me advice.

When noon comes around, I fix Cordy a sandwich and knock on the door, asking if she'd like to come out to eat it. When there is no response, I let her know that I am leaving it outside the door. A couple of moments later, the door cracks open just enough for her to reach out and grab the plate and the bottle of water I had also left for her. The door is closed, and the lock flipped before I have a chance to say anything.

I eventually locate Lacey's card in the stack of papers from the hospital and reach for my phone, ignoring the message icon with 3 unread messages, dialing Lacey's number. We talk for hours, and she leaves me with the advice; "don't push. She'll come out when she's ready."

When Cordy finally opens the door, it's nearly dark out. Her eyes are puffy and red, she holds tight onto her teddy bear, crossing the living room to take a seat next to me.

"Why did you lie to me?" She whispers, "You all lied to me."

"I didn't want to, Cordy. I- I was doing what I thought was best. After you were born, I couldn't imagine my life without you in it. Mom and dad still wanted me to do all the things I had worked for, but I couldn't have done that with a baby. I was seventeen, and I couldn't take care of a baby by myself." I take a deep breath, tears filling my eyes, but quickly wipe them away before Cordy can see them. "I let mom and dad raise you so that you could have all the opportunities that I did, and so that one day, I could be the mom you deserve. When you got to be old enough, we were gonna tell you. This," I gesture to the photos strewn atop the coffee table, "isn't how I wanted you to find out."

I reach out and pull her close to me, and she curls into my body. "Do I have to start calling you 'mom' now?" she says, breaking the tension between us, and I let out a small chuckle.

"You can call me whatever you want, kid." I feel my whole body relax as she wraps her arms around me.

"No more lies?"

"No more lies." I hook my pinky around her own. "Promise."

She reaches back into the shoebox and pulls out more photos, asking me questions like Sam did the night before. I tell her any story I can remember. We're nearly through the box when she asks the question I've been dreading.

"Ellie?" Her hazel eyes focus on my face. "What about my dad?"

"Your dad?" I play dumb, not ready to talk about Sam, not with our fight still fresh in my mind.

"My dad," she repeats more pointedly. "Who's my dad?"

I resign myself to the fact that she won't stop asking until I tell her, and make my way into my bedroom. The only picture I have of Sam and me sits concealed on the bedside table. It's the one that he'd given me all those years ago when we were dating. I open the frame and carefully pull out the hidden picture. It wasn't anything special, just the two of us on a park bench; me curled up against him, his arm around me. Neither of us is looking at the camera. Instead, our eyes are fixed on each other with broad smiles on our faces.

I return to my living room, hold the photo tight to my chest, unsure if I'm ready for her to know about Sam. I sit back down next to Cordy and draw a long, shaky breath, preparing myself mentally. "Remember how we talked about Sam being my boyfriend before you were born?" Cordy nods, and her eyes stay focused on mine. "He's not just an old boyfriend, Sam's-" I struggle to get the words out.

"Is Sam, my dad?" Cordy takes the words right out of my mouth.

"Sam's your dad," I confirm, handing the picture over to her.