Ashes (Web of Desire #3) - Aleatha Romig Page 0,130

gaze again went to the rearview mirror.

“Are we being followed?” I asked.

Instead of answering, she continued her instructions. “In that envelope is information for your new identity, a trust fund, and where you’ll be living. Your dad and I had this backup plan waiting. We hoped we’d never have to use it, but he insisted on being prepared.” Her gaze went upward. “Thank you, Byron. You’re still watching over us from heaven.”

Slowly, I peeled back the envelope’s flap and pulled out two Colorado driver’s licenses. They both contained my picture—that was the only recognizable part. The name, address, and even birth dates were different. “Kennedy Hawkins,” I said, the fictitious name thick on my tongue.

“Why are there two?”

“Look at the dates. Use the one that makes you eighteen years old for this flight. It’s to ensure the airline will allow you to fly unaccompanied. Once you’re in Colorado, destroy the one with the added two years. The school needs your real age for your grade in school.”

I stared down at one and then the other. The name was the same. I repeated it again, “Kennedy Hawkins.”

“Learn it. Live it. Become Kennedy.”

A never-before-thought-of question came to my mind. “Did I have a different name before I came to you?”

My mother’s eyes widened as her pallid complexion changed from white to gray. “It’s better if you don’t know.”

I sat taller in the seat, mimicking the strength she’d shown me all of my life. “You’re sending me away. You’re saying we may never see one another again. This is my only chance. I think I deserve to be told everything.”

“Not everything.” She blinked rapidly. “About your name, your dad and I decided to alter your birth name, not change it completely. You were very young, and we hoped having a derivation of what you’d heard would help make the transition easier. Of course, we gave you our last name.”

“My real name isn’t Renee? What is it?”

“Araneae.”

The syllables played on repeat in my head, bringing back memories I couldn’t catch. “I’ve heard that before, but not as a name.”

She nodded. “I always thought it was ironic how you loved insects. Your name means spider. Your birth mother thought it gave you strength, a hard outer shell, and the ability to spin silk, beautiful and strong.”

“Araneae,” I repeated aloud.

Her stern stare turned my way. “Forget that name. Forget Araneae and Renee. We were wrong to allow you any connection. Embrace Kennedy.”

My heart beat rapidly in my chest as I examined all of the paperwork. My parents, the ones I knew, were thorough in their plan B. I had a birth certificate, a Social Security card, a passport matching the more accurate age, and the driver’s license that I’d seen earlier, all with my most recent school picture. According to the documentation, my parents’ names were Phillip and Debbie Hawkins. The perfect boring family. Boring or exciting, family was something I would never have again.

“And what happened to Phillip and Debbie?” I asked as if any of this made sense.

“They died in an automobile accident. Their life insurance funded your trust fund. You are an only child.”

The car crept forward in the line of traffic near the departure terminal of O’Hare Airport. A million questions swirled through my head, and yet I struggled to voice even one. I reached out to my mother’s arm. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“I’ll always be with you, always.”

“How will we talk?”

She lifted her fist to her chest. “In here. Listen to your heart.”

Pulling to the curb and placing the car in park, she leaned my direction and wrapped me in her arms. The familiar scent of lotions and perfumes comforted me as much as her hug. “Know you’re loved. Never forget that, Kennedy.”

I swallowed back the tears brought on by her calling me by the unfamiliar name.

She reached for her wrist and unclasped the bracelet she always wore. “I want you to have this.”

I shook my head. “Mom, I never remember seeing you without it.”

“It’s very important. I’ve protected it as I have you. Now, I’m giving it to you.” She forced a smile. “Maybe it will remind you of me.”

“Mom, I’d never forget you.” I looked down to the gold bracelet in the palm of my hand as my mom picked it up, the small charms dangling as she secured it around my wrist.

“Now, it’s time for you to go.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“You do. Go to the counter for the airlines. Hand them your ticket and