Four words.

That’s all it took to turn Ashley and Bryce Timberline’s world upside down. Ashley gasped as she stared at her stepfather, Sam. Bryce’s jaw fell.

Tears rimmed Sam Timberline’s eyes. “I’m so sorry. You have to believe me.”

Ashley started to cry. “What are you sorry for?”

“For killing your father.”

Kathryn Timberline, the twins’ mother, trembled. Leigh, their 16-year-old stepsister, stared at the ceiling. The only sound came from the creaking backyard swing where four-year-old Dylan played.

Bryce finally broke the silence. “How could you have killed him? He died in a plane crash.”

Sam nodded, his forehead wrinkling. His hair was only flecked with gray, but he looked like he had aged overnight.

Ashley and Bryce had been so close to him over the past week—the trip to the mountains, a brush with death.

“You killed Dad?” Ashley said, a tear zigzagging down her cheek.

Sam stood and stepped toward them. The phone rang. He hesitated, then walked to the kitchen.

“Mom?” Ashley said.

Her mother simply shook her head.

Bryce gazed out the window at the red rock formation beyond their property line. It stood in a protected county area where he and Ashley liked to drive their four-wheeled ATVs.

Sam spoke quietly into the phone and walked outside. When he returned, he gave his wife a pained look. “I need to leave for a couple of days.”

“What?” Bryce said. “You can’t just tell us you killed Dad and then leave.”

“I want to tell you everything. But I can’t. Not now.” He knelt before Bryce. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“You saved our lives on that mountain,” Ashley said.

Sam nodded. “I love you guys. But I have to go.”

He went upstairs and returned with an overnight bag and the keys to his new truck. He called Dylan in, gave him a hug, and walked out.

“Leigh?” Bryce said.

She shrugged. “I don’t know much more than you.”

“Anything is more than we know,” Bryce said.

“Everything changed after that crash,” she said. “I lost my mom and little sister.”

“What do you mean, changed?” Ashley said.

“Where we lived. Even our . . .” Leigh bit her lip. “Look, I don’t feel right saying more.”

“You’re right. It should come from him,” their mother said.

“And what about us?” Bryce said, jumping to his feet. “What are we supposed to do? Our stepfather just admitted he’s a murderer.”

“You’re only 13,” Leigh said. “I don’t think you can handle—”

Bryce gritted his teeth. “You have no idea what I can handle, Leigh.” He ran upstairs to his room and stood looking out the window.

“Bryce!” his mother called.

Ashley followed her brother.

“Ashley, wait,” Kathryn said. “When Sam can tell you more, he will.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to keep secrets,” Ashley said from the stairs. “Our whole lives have been a secret. You don’t even trust us enough to tell us the truth.”

“I don’t know the whole truth,” her mother said, crying.

Ashley trudged to her room and closed the door. She got out her favorite candle—pumpkin and spice. Then she opened her journal and fell on the bed.