Puck's Safe Place
Chapter 2: Unseen and Unheard
Beth sat slumped on the edge of the bed, her fingers flicking idly through the pictures on her phone. The brightness of the screen seemed to irritate her, but she couldn't look away, like a moth drawn to a flame she knew would burn. She had been scrolling for hours, only stopping to glance at the clock, which mocked her with its relentless ticking.
Her thumb paused, hovering over the latest notification: *Rachel Berry posted on Facebook*.
A tightness curled in her chest as she clicked. She wasn't sure why she had come here, why she had checked the page at all. Maybe she wanted to see Rachel's face—her mother's face. Maybe she was hoping to catch a glimpse of something that would make the hole in her heart feel a little less jagged.
But the post stopped her cold.
It was a picture of Quinn—her face softer now, more at peace, surrounded by balloons and an excited Noah, their hands intertwined, the glow of a new chapter evident in their eyes. The caption, however, was the one thing Beth hadn't expected:
Excited to announce that Baby #1 is on the way! Puck and I are thrilled to start our family. Here's to new beginnings and the adventures ahead!*
Baby #1. The words echoed in her mind, a dull, hollow sound that reverberated through her chest. She stared at the screen, her stomach lurching, as a cold, bitter feeling crept up her spine.
Baby #1.*
The words felt like a slap to her face. As if the child in this announcement, the baby that Quinn was so excited to have, was the *first*—the beginning of their family. A family where she had never truly belonged.
Beth clenched her jaw, the ache in her chest becoming a painful pressure. She wanted to throw the phone across the room, wanted to destroy everything, to erase this moment from her life, from her memory.
But she couldn't.
Instead, she sat there, her fingers shaking as she scrolled back to look at the photo again. Baby #1. As if Quinn had never had a child before. As if Beth had never existed. The picture was all about this baby—this *first* child that would take their love and joy while she, Beth, was left in the shadows, cast aside like an unwanted afterthought.
Her mind raced back to the night she had found out the truth—*really* found out—about Noah being her father. She remembered confronting Quinn in that dark alley, Quinn's eyes full of guilt and regret. *Beth, I never meant for you to feel abandoned. I just...* The words that followed—*You're not alone anymore*—rang hollow now.
But here, in this post, was the real slap. Baby #1. It didn't matter that Beth had existed before Tracy. It didn't matter that Beth was a part of their past, a connection to Noah that couldn't be erased, no matter how hard they tried to forget her.
Beth took in a shaky breath, her fingers trembling as they hovered over the phone screen. Quinn wasn't acknowledging her. She wasn't acknowledging the years Beth had spent wondering where her place was in this twisted family, hoping against hope that maybe—just maybe—she could find a space beside them.
But now? Now, it was as if she had never even existed.
She threw the phone down onto the bed, standing up quickly. The walls of the room seemed to close in around her, and she felt a surge of heat rise to her face. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Not yet. Not now.
Her breath came in shallow gasps, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She didn't want to cry. She didn't want to be weak. Not for them. Not for Quinn or Noah.
She stared at the door, her mind spinning. She couldn't stay here. She couldn't keep pretending like none of this mattered, like it didn't hurt every single day to see their lives unfold while hers felt like it was on pause. She had been abandoned by the one person who should have stayed. Her father. The man who had promised to be there.
Her throat constricted, and for the first time in a long time, the anger bubbled to the surface. She was sick of pretending. Sick of pretending that she was fine, that she could just move on, that she was okay with being a secret in their lives.
She grabbed her jacket from the chair, yanking it on with a sense of finality. Her legs were shaky as she walked to the door, but she didn't stop. She wasn't sure where she was going, but she knew she couldn't stay there. Not in this house, not with this family.
She walked out the door, slamming it behind her. The cool night air hit her face, and she breathed it in like it could cleanse her, wash away all the pain. She didn't know what to do next. Maybe she should have gone to her mom, but that thought felt wrong. She couldn't talk to Shelby about any of this. Not now. Not when everything felt like a lie.
She kept walking, faster now, not caring that she had no destination. She needed space. She needed to get away from everything. She needed to be alone.
The streets felt empty as she walked, her steps echoing in the silence. She couldn't stop the thoughts that kept swirling in her head. Noah's smile in the picture. Quinn's joy. Baby #1. And the feeling that she was just... forgotten.
Beth paused at a streetlight, looking down at her shoes. Her mind flashed back to a time when she had thought things could be different. When she had hoped, for just a moment, that maybe—just maybe—things could work out with Quinn and Noah.
But now, it felt like that hope had been crushed, ground into dust beneath the weight of Baby #1.
She walked on, muttering to herself, "I wish I never knew..."
Her voice cracked as the hurt she had been bottling for so long came to the surface. She stopped herself from crying, clenching her fists as her body trembled. She couldn't let them see her like this.
And as she continued to walk into the night, a part of her wondered if she'd ever feel anything other than this cold, hollow ache in her chest.
Beth's footsteps faded into the night, but her thoughts still churned, a storm that wouldn't pass. Somewhere in the darkness of the house, her phone buzzed again. This time, it was Rachel—her mother, of sorts—but Beth couldn't bring herself to answer.
Meanwhile, Rachel sat at her kitchen table, the glow of her laptop illuminating her face as she stared at the screen. She had just seen the Facebook post, too. Quinn's *Baby #1* announcement.
She was supposed to be happy for her friends—*Noah* and *Quinn, her *family*. And in some way, she was. But she couldn't ignore the gnawing feeling in her gut. Quinn had made sure to make it seem as if this was the beginning of their family, as if nothing else had come before this child. And Beth—her daughter—had been left out. Forgotten.
Rachel reached for her phone, her thumb hovering over Sarah's contact. She pressed the screen, sending a message before letting it sit, knowing she needed to talk this through. A few moments later, her phone rang.
"Hey, Rachel," Sarah's voice sounded on the other end, warm but with an edge of concern that mirrored Rachel's thoughts.
"Hey, Sarah," Rachel replied, her voice tight. "Did you see Quinn's post?"
A heavy silence followed, and Rachel could practically hear Sarah's fingers brushing over the screen as she processed. "I did," Sarah said, finally. "It… it felt so dismissive of everything before. Like… like Beth didn't even exist."
"I know," Rachel whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "It's hurtful. I know Quinn's happy about this new chapter, but to just erase everything that's come before—especially Beth—it feels cruel. She's Noah's daughter, for God's sake. She should be part of this."
"I agree. Quinn knows how much Beth has struggled with everything, especially after learning about Noah. And for her to just act like Beth was never even in the picture? That's not fair to her. It's not fair to any of us."
Rachel sighed deeply, her hand running over her forehead in frustration. "I don't know what to do. Beth's already been through so much, and now it's like they're just ignoring her. And I'm *so* angry with Quinn. She's acting like she's never even *acknowledged* Beth as part of the family."
Sarah's voice softened. "I think she's ignoring it because it's easier for her. But that doesn't make it right. Rachel, you can't just erase a person like that. We've all seen how hard Beth has worked to find her place in this family, and now Quinn is just pulling the rug out from under her. It's *rude, honestly. It feels like they're making it out like Beth never mattered."
Rachel's eyes stung with tears. "I feel like I've failed her, Sarah. Like, I've failed all of them. I should have done more. I should have stepped in, made sure she knew she was part of something bigger than what Quinn is letting her feel right now."
"You're not the only one at fault here, Rachel. It's not just you. But you need to talk to Beth. She needs to hear from you, not just see it all happen on social media. *She* needs you right now."
Rachel's grip tightened on the phone. "You're right. I'm going to talk to her. I need to make sure she knows that even if Quinn isn't there for her, I am. She's *my* daughter, too. And we have a family, even if it doesn't look the way Quinn thinks it should."
Sarah nodded even though Rachel couldn't see it. "Good. And Rachel, I'm here for you, too. I know how hard it's been, but you don't have to do this alone. We can't let Quinn just rewrite history like this."
"I won't," Rachel promised, her voice steady but filled with determination. "I'm going to fix this. I won't let Beth feel like she doesn't belong."
Sarah let out a soft, understanding sigh. "We'll all be there for her. But just remember, this isn't just about Quinn. It's about Beth's relationship with Noah, too. It's about healing, and you can't let the past keep her from having a future where she knows she's loved and wanted."
Rachel nodded, although she knew Sarah couldn't hear it. "Thanks, Sarah. I'll handle it. I'll talk to Beth tonight."
They both paused, the weight of the conversation settling between them, but it wasn't a quiet weight—it carried action, something needed to be done, and neither of them could ignore it.
"Good," Sarah said quietly, and Rachel could almost hear the smile in her voice. "I'll be here if you need anything. Don't forget, you're part of her life, too. You've always been there."
"I won't forget." Rachel's voice cracked slightly, but she cleared it. "Thanks, Sarah. For everything."
The call ended, leaving Rachel with a fresh sense of purpose. As she stood up from the table, her eyes scanned the room—Beth's room, where she'd slept as a little girl, where she'd played. She thought about the ways she had failed her in the past. She thought about the way Quinn's post had felt like a slap in the face. But she wouldn't let that define things. She couldn't. Not when it came to her daughter.
Rachel grabbed her jacket, her heart set on finding Beth and making sure she knew she wasn't forgotten.
Tension in the Air
The room was thick with tension. Kurt, Blaine, Burt, Carole, and Tracy sat huddled together on the couch, their eyes darting between Quinn and Noah as their voices rose, matching the heat in the small living room.
Quinn was standing, her hands clenched at her sides, her eyes blazing with frustration. "We need to reconnect with Beth," she said, her voice shaking with emotion. "She's our daughter, Noah. And we've both failed her. She's hurting, and we've ignored it for too long. You can't just keep pretending like she's not part of our lives."
Noah's face twisted, his jaw tight with anger and pain. He was still in his wheelchair, the mobility issues a constant reminder of how much he had lost. His hands gripped the armrests, his knuckles white with the effort to stay calm. "She was better off not knowing, Quinn," he snapped, his voice raw. "She thinks Shelby is her mother, and that's how it should stay. She doesn't need to know the truth. I don't need to be a part of her life in that way. I'm just a sperm donor to her. I don't want to drag her back into all this mess, into the *chaos*."
Quinn's chest heaved with a sharp breath, and she took a step toward Noah, her eyes burning with a mixture of hurt and disbelief. "You're going to sit there and say that? You're just going to walk away from her? She's not a mess; she's our daughter. And she deserves better than what you've given her. You can't keep pretending that you're not responsible for this."
Noah's eyes narrowed as he glanced at Quinn. "It's not about responsibility. It's about protecting her. I don't want her to have to live with the truth of who I am. I don't want to hurt her any more than I already have."
Blaine shifted uncomfortably beside Kurt, his fingers lightly tapping the armrest of the couch. He glanced over at Kurt, who was biting his lip, his heart aching for both Quinn and Noah. It wasn't lost on him how much pain this conversation was causing, how neither of them seemed to know how to reach the other. They were both trapped in their hurt, and neither of them had the answers.
"Maybe it's not about reconnecting with her right now," Kurt said softly, his voice the calm in the storm. "Maybe it's about acknowledging that we've all hurt her and starting there. The truth can't be avoided forever, but we also can't force it on her."
"No," Quinn cut him off, her voice rising. "She deserves the truth. She deserves to know who we are, who you are. You can't just keep pretending that you don't have a responsibility in this, Noah."
Noah took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the strain of the conversation. His gaze turned toward the window as if he could escape the pressure in the room just by looking at something else. "I can't be the father she needs," he said quietly, his voice breaking. "I can barely even take care of myself right now. I'm *broken*. I'm not the man I used to be. I'm not the person she deserves."
The words hit harder than Noah had intended, and the room fell into a heavy silence. Even Tracy, who had been quietly watching the argument unfold, shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Her eyes flicked between her two parents—her biological father and Quinn—and then to Blaine, who looked just as lost as she felt.
"You can't keep doing this, Noah." Quinn's voice was quieter now, but it was laced with a kind of sadness that seemed to seep into every corner of the room. "I know you're hurt, and I know you're scared. But Beth deserves more than being ignored because you don't want to deal with the past. She's not just going to disappear."
Burt, who had been sitting silently beside Carole, finally spoke, his voice gruff but calm. "Quinn's right, Noah. You've been shutting her out for too long. Beth isn't a little girl anymore, but that doesn't mean she doesn't need you. You've got to be a father to her, even if it's hard."
Noah flinched at the words, but he didn't respond right away. His mind was spinning, his heart caught between the guilt of knowing he had let Beth down and the anger he still carried for all the things that had gone wrong—things that weren't even his fault.
Carole placed a hand on his shoulder, her voice soft. "You can't change the past, Noah. But you can still be part of Beth's future. You don't get to decide she doesn't need you, not when you're all she has left."
There was a beat of silence before Noah spoke again, his voice quieter but no less firm. "I didn't want her to know the truth because I didn't want to hurt her. I didn't want her to think less of me. But maybe… maybe you're right. Maybe it's time. But I don't know how to fix this, Quinn. I don't know how to make it right."
Quinn softened, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of his words had just hit her too. "We don't have to fix everything overnight. But we can start. That's all I'm asking, Noah. Start."
The room was heavy with the silence that followed. Tracy was the first to speak, her small voice cutting through the tension. "Can we go home now?" she asked, looking up at Noah with big eyes, her face a mixture of confusion and concern. "I don't like it when you guys fight. I just want to be with you."
Noah's heart twisted at the sight of Tracy's earnest face. He reached out, his hand trembling as he placed it on her knee. "I know, sweetie," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "I know. And I'm sorry."
Tracy wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug, and Noah held her close, closing his eyes as if her simple gesture was the only thing keeping him tethered to something real. Something he could fix.
Quinn, for the first time in what felt like forever, let out a breath, her shoulders loosening. "We'll figure this out, Noah," she said quietly, looking at him with a mix of exhaustion and resolve. "But we can't just keep pretending this doesn't matter. Not anymore."
Kurt exchanged a look with Blaine, his expression softening. He could see both sides of the argument. But sometimes, it wasn't about who was right. It was about what was best for the children—*all* of them.
"Maybe," Kurt said quietly, "you should start by talking to Beth. Apologize. Maybe that's the first step."
Noah nodded, looking up at Kurt with a tired, resigned expression. "Maybe you're right."
And in that moment, despite all the hurt, all the pain that had piled up over the years, there was a glimmer of hope—a possibility that maybe, just maybe, they could begin to heal. Not all at once, but one step at a time.
The room was quiet except for the soft sound of breathing that filled the space. Noah lay in Tracy's bed, his body still fragile from the injury, wrapped in the comfort of the small room that had become his haven. The moonlight crept through the window, casting pale shadows on the walls as Noah slept, his face drawn in a mixture of pain and deep, unresolved thoughts.
As he slept, his lips parted slightly, and he muttered something in his dreams—something that tugged at Tracy's heart.
"Beth," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the night.
Tracy, lying next to him with her head on the pillow, stirred, her small hand resting on his arm. She looked up at him, her brow furrowing in confusion. She didn't know why Noah kept saying Beth's name, but she knew it hurt him. She'd seen it in his eyes before—something heavy that he couldn't let go. It was the same weight he carried around every time the subject of Beth came up. Tracy didn't know exactly what had happened, but she knew it made Noah sad, and it made him angry, too. She hated it. Hated seeing him like that.
She shifted quietly, trying not to wake him, but her curiosity got the best of her. With a soft sigh, she reached for Noah's phone on the nightstand beside the bed. She was careful, trying not to disturb him as she grabbed it, her little fingers instinctively unlocking the screen.
She had watched him enough times to know how to find her way around. She opened the contact list and navigated to Santana's name—Auntie Tana, as Tracy liked to call her. Tracy's little fingers pressed the screen with determination, her message coming out in a somewhat jumbled mix of letters, but it didn't matter.
Tracy to Santana: Auntie Tana, can you take me to see Beth? Noah keeps saying her name in his sleep like he wants to fix things, but he's not ready. I think I should go see her.
She hesitated for a moment before hitting send, looking back at Noah to make sure he was still sleeping. His chest rose and fell softly, unaware of the tiny mission Tracy had set in motion.
Her phone buzzed in response.
Santana to Tracy: Of course, baby girl. Let me know when you're ready, I'll come get you. We'll help fix things with Beth, no matter what Noah thinks. You deserve that, Tracy.
Tracy smiled at Santana's reply. She didn't care what Noah thought. She knew what she had to do. Maybe Noah wasn't ready to face the past, but Tracy was—she wasn't going to let it slide any longer. She wasn't going to let Noah's fear keep them all apart.
Taking a deep breath, Tracy quickly typed a message to Quinn, hoping she would understand.
Tracy to Quinn: Noah keeps saying Beth's name in his sleep. He's sad about her, but he's too scared to talk to her. Do you think I should go with Auntie Tana to see her?*
Tracy waited for a reply, the silence in the room pressing in on her. Noah's face relaxed as he continued to sleep, still unaware of the tiny decisions being made on his behalf. Tracy only hoped she was doing the right thing.
A few minutes later, Tracy's phone buzzed again. She picked it up with a sense of anticipation.
Quinn to Tracy: I'm coming. I'll meet you at the house tomorrow. We'll talk to Beth together. Noah needs to stop acting like it's all too late to fix.*
Tracy smiled softly, relief settling in her chest. It wasn't just her and Santana anymore. Quinn was going to help, too. Maybe—just maybe—this time they could fix things. They could bridge the gap between Noah and Beth, help them both see that healing was still possible.
Tracy set Noah's phone back on the nightstand and curled up beside him again. Her small hand found his, and she rested her cheek against his arm, her thoughts racing. She knew there was still a long way to go, but for the first time in a long time, she felt like they could make it through.
Tomorrow, they would go to see Beth. Tomorrow, they would fix this.
On The Road
The road to New York stretched out endlessly, the headlights of Santana's car illuminating the dark asphalt ahead. Quinn and Santana had been driving in silence for a while, their thoughts heavy with the weight of what lay ahead. Quinn's knuckles were white against the steering wheel, her gaze focused ahead, but her mind was far from the road. She had spent so many years running from this moment—the confrontation with Beth, the truth about their past, and the recognition that she could never truly be a mother to Beth the way Shelby was.
Santana, ever the voice of reason and stubbornness, finally broke the silence.
"You know, we're doing the right thing, right?" Santana's voice was calm but firm, laced with a certainty that Quinn didn't have the energy to argue with.
"I know," Quinn replied softly, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. "But... It's not that simple, Santana. She's... she's not just my daughter anymore. She's Shelby's. And I—"
"You're her mother too, Quinn," Santana interrupted, her eyes glancing over. "No matter what anyone says."
Quinn sighed, biting her lip. She wasn't sure what she believed anymore, not when it came to Beth. It was so easy to say that Beth belonged to Shelby now, that she was happy with her adoptive mom, but the truth felt tangled in a web of guilt, loss, and the reality of what had happened. Quinn had never been able to give Beth the stability she needed. She couldn't even look at Noah without feeling the weight of the choices they had made. But that didn't make her love Beth any less.
As the car passed a sign for a gas station, Santana pointed ahead. "Pull in here. We need a break anyway."
Quinn nodded and turned the wheel, slowing as they pulled into the gas station. It was nearly deserted at this hour, except for one other car parked near the pumps. As the car came to a stop, Santana turned to her.
"You sure you're ready for this?" she asked, her eyes softening.
Quinn's heart raced in her chest. She wasn't ready. Not at all. But she wasn't sure she ever would be.
"I don't know," she admitted, "but I have to be."
They both got out of the car and made their way inside. As they approached the counter, Quinn froze. Standing at the far end of the small gas station, Sarah was talking to someone—someone who Quinn recognized immediately.
It was Beth. Beside her stood Sarah's familiar face, the one Quinn had spent years trying to forget. The woman who had once been a shadow in the periphery of her life—the woman who was now undeniably a part of it, the one who had taken Beth from her when she couldn't keep her. The woman who was, in every way that mattered, Beth's real mother.
Beth's eyes widened when she spotted Quinn. For a moment, everything felt still, like time itself had slowed down to give them one last chance to say everything that had been left unsaid.
Quinn took a deep breath and walked forward, her voice trembling slightly when she spoke.
"Beth," she said softly. "I—I never wanted to give you up. You were never meant to be someone else's. You were meant to be with me. But..." Quinn's words caught in her throat. "You belong with Shelby now. I gave you to her because I couldn't give you what you needed. She's your mom now. You're her daughter."
Beth looked up at her with a mixture of confusion and sorrow. "But you're my mom too. Aren't you?"
Quinn's heart ached at the pain in Beth's voice, the longing she still held for the woman who had once been her mother. But Quinn couldn't deny the truth anymore. She was only part of Beth's life now, not the whole.
"I'm your birth mom," Quinn said, her voice faltering. "But Shelby is the one who raised you, the one who loves you the way you deserve. And that's what matters."
Beth glanced over at Sarah, who stood silently beside her. The two of them exchanged a brief look, but it was clear that the moment was not yet over. There was so much left unsaid.
Just then, Tracy, who had been standing quietly by Santana, tugged at Quinn's sleeve. "Auntie Queenie," she whispered, her voice cutting through the tension. She then turned to Beth, who was still standing next to Sarah, watching the exchange. "I know this is hard, but… it's like when I came to live with Daddy Kurt and Daddy Blaine. Mama Rachel gave me to them to love, just like you gave Nana Shelby to love. Sometimes, you can't be a mama because someone else can be better at it. But that doesn't mean you don't love them."
Quinn blinked, her eyes brimming with tears as Tracy spoke with a wisdom far beyond her years. Tracy's simple yet profound words seemed to strike a chord with Beth, who looked at Tracy as if hearing something new, something true.
Beth stared at Quinn for a long moment, confusion and sadness battling in her eyes. But Tracy's words had hit their mark. Quinn's voice, though choked with emotion, broke the silence. "You were never a mistake, Beth. Never. But Shelby… she's your mom. And she loves you. I just… I couldn't give you everything you needed."
Beth swallowed hard, the hurt still there but softened by the truth Quinn was offering. She glanced at Sarah, who nodded slightly as if encouraging her to take in the weight of the words.
For a moment, Beth said nothing. She just stood there, her eyes flickering between Quinn and Tracy, who had now stepped back a little, holding Quinn's hand tightly.
Finally, Beth spoke, her voice quiet and uncertain. "I don't know what to feel anymore."
Quinn stepped forward, her voice breaking. "I know, Beth. I know. And I'm sorry. But I want you to know that Shelby loves you, and I know she will always take care of you."
Santana, who had been standing silently by, placed a hand on Quinn's shoulder, offering quiet support. "You did what you had to do, Quinn. You did what was best."
Quinn nodded, wiping at her tears. As Beth turned to walk back to Sarah's car, Tracy looked up at Quinn, her small hand squeezing hers. "Daddy Kurt and Daddy Blaine love me, just like Nana Shelby loves Beth," she said again, her voice full of innocence.
Quinn nodded, swallowing against the lump in her throat. "Yeah, baby. They do."
The sun had long set by the time Sarah and Beth finally arrived back in New York. The city streets were alive with the hum of late-night traffic, but in the small apartment Sarah had settled into, it was quiet—almost too quiet after the emotional rollercoaster they had just been through.
As Sarah closed the door behind them, she let out a long, exhausted breath. Beth stood just inside the door, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, still processing the weight of everything that had transpired in the gas station. There were so many things left unspoken between them, but at this moment, Sarah knew the silence was exactly what Beth needed.
"Do you want something to eat? Or... we can just talk," Sarah offered softly, trying to offer a sense of normalcy amidst the chaos.
Beth shook her head, not looking up. "I don't feel like eating."
Sarah nodded and sat down on the couch, gesturing for Beth to join her. When Beth finally sank next to her, the two of them sat in silence for a while, the weight of the world pressing down on them.
Finally, it was Beth who broke the stillness. "I don't understand, Sarah," she whispered, her voice fragile. "I don't understand why everything had to be so messed up. Why couldn't things have been different? Why couldn't Quinn have been my mom?"
Sarah swallowed hard, knowing exactly where Beth's pain was coming from. She'd spent years trying to fill the gap left by their father, trying to answer questions that were beyond her ability to answer. She had never fully understood the impact of their father's abandonment until this very moment.
"I know it's hard," Sarah said, her voice thick with emotion. "I know you want answers. But, Beth, Quinn—she was never really ready to be a mom. And I think… I think it was more than just that. You know, when I was little, our dad left when I was just four. I barely remember him—just flashes, like a shadow in my past. He walked out on Noah, too, and it nearly broke him. And that man—he was my dad, which makes him your grandfather."
Beth nodded quietly. She already knew all of that, but hearing it now—with everything she'd just been through—somehow made it feel different. More real.
"I just never really thought of it like that," she admitted softly. "That I have… a grandpa who bailed. And uncles. Like Jake."
Sarah's lips curled into a tired smile. "Yeah, you do. Jake's your uncle, too. We don't always use the labels, but you've always had family, Beth. Blood, chosen, all of it. And maybe none of it made sense before, but that doesn't mean you were ever alone."
Beth was quiet for a moment before she said, "So Noah—he didn't want to be like *his* dad. That's why he tried to fight for me."
Sarah nodded. "Exactly. He couldn't fix what happened to us when we were kids. But with you? You were his second chance. Even if he wasn't allowed to raise you, even if he didn't know how to show it… You were never just a mistake to him. You were *his*. And I know that matters to him more than anything."
Beth's throat tightened. "And Quinn?"
"She loved you," Sarah said honestly. "She was just too young. Too scared. She thought giving you up was the right thing to do, but it broke her too. That doesn't make it okay, but it makes it human. You were never unloved, Beth. You were just… lost in the middle of a mess that wasn't your fault."
Beth leaned back, her voice barely a whisper. "It still hurts."
"I know," Sarah murmured. "But you've got us now. Me, Noah, Quinn, Jake—even Tina. People who are here and not going anywhere. People who choose you, over and over again."
Beth finally looked at her, eyes glossy. "I didn't think anyone wanted me."
Sarah reached out and pulled her close. "Then I'm glad you're finally hearing the truth. Because we do. All of us. We're not perfect, and we don't always get it right, but you're not alone. And you never were."
Beth leaned into the embrace, letting herself be held, letting the silence speak for all the things they couldn't quite say yet.
For the first time in a long time, she felt like she was starting to understand where she belonged—not in the fantasy of what could've been, but in the imperfect, messy, real family that had always been there, waiting for her to see it.
Chapter 3 will be up soon.