Elena
I keep staring at the words: you are my daughter – in all the ways except the DNA. My eyes are literally frozen on them. The paper is shaking in my grasp; tears are falling hot against my face.
There’s movement beside me and a hot hand is tentatively covering one of mine. “Elena,” I hear a deep southern drawl, but am still unable to look away from those words.
The rough calloused hand moves to cup my face, with guidance, I follow the motion of his hand to find his face inches from mine. “Elena,” he speaks. “What’s wrong. What’s going on?” Those dark green eyes are penetrating me right to my soul. This is all too much. I feel my heart pick up speed, my breathing kicked up another notch.
A panic attack.
Not realizing that the letter is being crumpled in my tight grip, Mike tries
