I took in twin baby girls I discovered wrapped in towels inside a beach changing cubicle—and on their 18th birthday, they gave me those same towels back and whispered, “Dad… We Owe You the Truth”

not your business.”

“No, Trent. But you are.”

“I didn’t ask to be saved,” I said.

“Good,” he said. “I’m not asking permission.”

I hated him for that.

I still got into the truck.

He drove us three states away to a quiet beach. By sunset, I wanted to go home to the yellow room that hurt me.

“I’m done,” I said.

I had already turned toward the parking lot when continue reading …