"Are you sure you want to do this?" Blaze helps me out of his grandpas' Range Rover and onto the Manhattan street. His concerned gaze bears into me but I smile back, clutching his hand.

"Yes." I lean up and place a kiss on his jaw, his grip on my waist tightens. "I need... some answers I guess. I might have some actual... family left..." I swallow the ball of anxiety in my throat. I'm trying not to get my hopes up considering they already dumped their daughter, I guess if they'd wanted a granddaughter they would have come looking for me... "Actually maybe this is a bad idea..." I mumble scuffing my shoes against the sidewalk.

Blaze scans my face then moves his hands from my waist to my cheeks, "I didn't have you down as a pussy Blondie."

"Well, maybe you don't know me that well." I huff, crossing my arms to avoid looking up at him, instead, I watch the snow land around us sporadically.

"Or maybe I know you too well. I know what's going on in there." He sighs placing a kiss on my temple. I lean into him gathering the familiar warmth, I know he's right. Sometimes he knows what I'm thinking before even I do but fizzles inside me like a firefly in the dark.

"Annoyingly," I whisper catching his overly charming grin fall onto his lips.

"Ah, you love it." I really do love it. I really love... you... "Come on, I'll be right here with you, if you want to leave just say the word and we'll go. Alright?" I nod inhaling a deep breath of chilly air. Blaze takes my hand and squeezes. He smiles down at me reassuringly and my shoulders relax slightly... it's going to be fine. It's alright, I don't have to do this alone anymore.

Blaze practically has to drag me up the stairs to the dark green door of the Manhatten townhouse, my limbs feel like stone. I scan the long road of uniform houses, my mom once lived in this exact one. They look so homely and warm. Snowy plants line the weathered stone steps and an iron rail on either side provides the much-needed support to stop my knees from buckling. The row of townhouses are identical to each other all except for the doors, providing an identity for each one, the green paint peeling slightly off this one like the large glass windows where the paint is peeling off the frame, especially the large circular one right at the top of the building- I can only presume provides light for an attic. The house looks old but it looks like a home and I wonder if my momma was happy here.

A long sigh of breath mists in front of my face as my feet hit the last step, eyes level with the old fashioned doorbell with letters that have faded through the decades.

"I know it's scary but you've been through much worse and come out the other side. You're stronger than you feel right now." Blaze mumbles in my ear.

He's right... I've been living with fricking monsters both in and out of my mind since I was born... this should be a walk in the park. If anything they owe me answers! Who gives up on their daughter because of her poor choice in men?

"Okay." I give a curt nod and press the doorbell hastily before I can chicken out. The high pitched ring resides inside the building behind the wood.

Nobody answers.

I can feel every ounce of disappointment creep back in. They've probably moved, my momma's diary is very old, stupid of me to put such hope in an old artefact.

I press once more, my fingers trembling as they hold down the golden button. The same high pitch sound lasts a little longer this time.

But no footsteps are heard, no one peeks out of the window.

No one's home.

I can feel myself physically deflate, tears stinging at the back of my eyes. I'd felt so in reach of having a physical tie to my momma that it feels like she's died all over again. Alone and cold in New York with nothing but an A5 sized diary to keep her with me.

"Atlas..." Blaze looks sympathetically at me but freezes, stiffening then scowls at the window behind me.

"What?" I sniff trying to push the tears back. Blaze' scowl deepens as he moves his finger to the bell, holding it down longer than I did- an amount of time would be considered rude... but then again I guess... it's Blaze.

"Stop. There's no one-"

"Someone's in there Blondie." His eyes narrow and my pulse spikes again... is it them? My eyes dart back to the window he was looking at but the curtain is still in place. If they were in, why didn't they answer first time- why are they still not answering.

After a considerable amount of time enduring the high pitched ringing and the worry of breaking the doorbell, the thumping of footsteps vibrates behind the wood door.

My eyes widen as they draw closer.

"Alright! Alright! I'm coming." The heavy New York accent travels through the green paint and I jump back, Blaze catching my waist before I topple back down the stairs.

"Clumsy." I can hear the smile in his voice and for a second I let the panic go and am transported to one of the first times we met... when he stopped me walking into a locker, a small smile settles but as the door creeps open it fades into the paleness of my face.

A small woman with dark purple nails clutches the door frame, the botox in her face is evident and hardly makes her look any younger but the wrinkles on her hands, clad with gold jewellery show her age. Her crisp face is painted with natural colours that make it more obvious to see the colour drain from her cheeks, even covered in a dark blush.

The most striking thing of all is the bright blue eyes and wispy white hair that perches on her shoulders beside a string of pearls. She purses her lips as her eyes draw up and down with scrutiny. Neither of us say anything, she just clutches the door like her hip might give out. Eventually, she gives in, shakes her head out and stands a little straighter presumably so she can feel in control of where this is going.

"Can I help you?" She commands drawing back a blank expression, pushing herself up slightly so she can actually look down at me...

"Uh..." I blush... mentally scolding myself for not planning a conversation. It seems like the rush of adrenaline that made me stupid enough to do this forgot to include 'conversation' in its action plan.

"Sorry to disturb you but are you, Mrs Grove?" Blaze takes over making me jump as he exudes his natural charming assertiveness... well charming when he needs to be. I appreciate his willingness to control the situation whilst I gather myself.

The woman doesn't even look at Blaze she just continues to stare right at me, more horror gathering on her face. I take her silence as confirmation.

"I'm uh... I'm Atlas... Atlas Grove. Your granddaughter?" I splutter feeling my cheeks heat against the pounding of my blood. The woman in front of me drops back into her purple heels, a pained expression falling upon her face before it softens... or as much as it can with filler. She opens the door wider and gestured for us to come in, her lips open and close like she's trying to find the words but in the end, she just leads us through to a living room facing the street we were just on, the curtained window is a little nook with a cushioned seat overlooking the snowy branches from the neatly planted trees, books on either end of the seat.

"Take a... Take a seat. I won't be a moment." She gestures to the vintage dark green couch sat behind a glass coffee table, a few candles and coffee table books placed neatly on top, like they've never been used or even moved before. I plunk down next to Blaze as she scurries out of the room. I take the time to survey the large space, sitting on my shaking hands. There's a small shelf of books, old and wrinkled, bending at the corners. A sofa and matching velvet green armchair and hideously pretentious wallpaper- weird, swirly and dark purple... but no photos. Framed degrees and masters certificates but other than that no personal items. Everything seems too straight-laced and cold... awfully show home like. I avoid looking at Blaze who dwarfs the couch, his weight sinking the cushions.

I feel awful for bringing him now... I don't even know what to do or say.

"Hey, you okay?" Blaze whispers in my ear, a shiver runs down my back but I'm thankful, he seems like the only comfort in the room the only thing emitting warmth to the property. I open my mouth to reply but clamp it shut when muffled voices and the sound of hurried footsteps approach the half-closed door.

"What are you talking about woman!" A gruff male whisper comes through the wood, the woman's voice is too quiet to hear but she shushes him harshly, "You're being delusional." And the door opens with a loud bang against the sideboard. I jump and swivel pulling my hands from under me as Blaze rests an arm protectively over my thighs.

A burly looking man stands in the doorway, the smaller old woman behind him in his shadow. His Gucci loafers stop clapping against the wooden floor and his posture becomes awfully stiff. He looks at me, blue eyes narrowed maliciously. A red neckerchief is tucked into the neckline of his blue shirt which happens to be the same shade as his face right now, a stark contrast against his trimmed beard that rests neatly on his chin and cheeks. He could be Santas long lost cousin. I gulp under his gaze, the intensity of his eyes scrutinizing. The air in the room is thick like I've walked into enemy territory and he's holding a gun to my head. The only sound the frighteningly loud grandfather clock from the hallway, ticking. Ticking. Ticking until-

"What of you child?" He doesn't move from the door, just stares like I'm a poltergeist who has just shoved his coffee table over.

"Oh, I'm uh- Atlas and-"

"What do you want?" He cuts me off abruptly. I'm taken aback by his brash manner but I suppose it would be a shock if your grandchild you've never met turned up on your doorstep. I don't let my smile falter.

"Well... I uh... well I..." What do I want? What did I come here for? Answers Atlas! These are the same people who chucked your mom out and refused to help her. You deserve to know why. "Truthfully Sir, I found your address written in the back of my... my mom's diary. I know you're my grandparents and well... I came to ask you some questions and meet you I guess." The man turns to look at his wife, an element of rage running through his eyes. He finally moves away from the door, stomping across the room until he's stood in front of me.

"Did he send you? Is this what this is? He's not getting a dime from us." Santas cousin towers over me but Blaze holds a protective arm over me. If looks could kill the old man would be dead, "Oh don't tell me... you're probably one of his thugs. You've come to threaten us for the money? Is that it?"

"What? No? Who are you talking about?" I shrink back into the sofa more confused than ever.

"Your father!" He shouts, the heeled woman walks over from the door to hold the man's arm. She eyes the floor wearily. He's seething and the air has grown hot, one breath is burning my lungs. The woman won't look at me. Tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.

"My- My father? He's... in prison." The man grunts but does not sit down. "I don't talk to my father. I was put into care after..."

"Look, child. Your mother made her choice! We warned her. We told her, he was not the man everyone thought he was. She made her bed and she lied in it. Every time we tried to contact her we told her she was the one who walked away. She bought it on herself. Now I don't know what you want but you can't find it here. My wife should have never let you in." He moves back to hold onto the mantelpiece, chest moving up and down quickly. His wife pleads with him, pawing at his arm. She doesn't look shocked by what he's said but pained. The tears move onto her pulled back cheeks, leaving lines through her expensive make-up.

I sit there shell shocked like I'm watching a plane crash and can do nothing about it, like I'm the kid at the beginning of Final Destination when it takes off. Oxygen sits in my lungs neither being inhaled or exhaled. Tears gather on my lashline and I can sense Blaze is seconds away from pulling me to the door. Normally I'd go willingly, run away from the blatant abuse of this man's words but not now... the anger flaring inside me is too strong to not be fueled.

"How can you say that?" I spit, the calmness of my voice even frightening me slightly, "She was your daughter!" I spit getting to my feet so he doesn't have so much the height advantage on me. He scoffs and turns back to me, the blue of his eyes I can now see as a darker grey.

"She bought shame on this family!" He roars, I bump back into Blaze's chest, tense as his arms coil around me. His jaw is set in a grim line and I know he's trying to let me handle this but he's growing angry.

"Shout at her again and I will shove that handkerchief so far down your throat you will-" I touch his arm pleadingly. As much as I'd love him to finish that sentence it won't get us anywhere. The old man just smirks at Blaze as if to say point proven, I'd like to see you try. He scoffs assessing Blaze again before turning back to me.

"We wanted her to do something with her life. She went to the best schools, we took her into our social circles and made sure she had everything growing up. We're well-respected members of society. She could have been a politician, a lawyer, a doctor- but she went against us and became a dancer. She took our good name and put it to shame." He wanders the room staring at the certificates on the wall, deep in malicious thought. His face screws like the words are bitter to taste.

"She was a Prima Ballerina Assolouta. Do you even understand how rare that is? How talented your daughter was." I glare at him only enough for him to turn half the way to me.

"Ah. You're like her then? A... dancer. And don't you dare lecture me about talent in this house." He scans me with disgust, "And then just to put the nail in the coffin, she married your father. A brute. A wrongen. A nasty piece of work from the wrong side of this city. We all told her, no, we warned her and pleaded she reconsider, at least marry someone with a better... status but she didn't listen, claimed she fell in love and for that ridiculous fantasy she paid the price."

"You turned your back on her when she reached out." I spit trying to stop the flow of tears edging down my cheeks, I will not look weak in front of this man.

"Once. She reached out once, years after she left. Begging us to take you all in when she came back to New York. Of course, we turned our back on her- as she did us." He scoffs rubbing his jaw with fury.

I gape open-mouthed at this man, he walks and talks like he's the creator of the frigging earth. Like he didn't even know my momma at all. I came with questions but I definitely got the clearest answer. This man is an asshole.

"You really have no idea do you?" I step closer honing in some of the rage and turning it into some kind of confidence. Having learnt to shy away from conflict and just take the blows I'm shocked at the confrontation but that's something I've been working on with my therapist. "My mother. Your daughter... she... she was murdered." I gulp after the words come flowing out, I've never before said those words aloud. The air runs cold but I don't dare stop now before I lose all this sudden confidence. "She was killed by someone she trusted, someone she thought she loved. She spent years being beaten and abused because I now realise she was scared to come back, ashamed even. She spent those years trying to protect me and... my sister. She endured pain and the things she loved being taken cruelly away from her because she was alone and there was no one to help her. I came with questions for you, I always wondered why you never fought for justice over her, over us- your grandchildren- why you didn't go to the trails or even come looking for us but honestly, now I know why. You're despicable." And with that I turn to leave, their faces both drained of any colour they possessed. The elderly man's jaw flaps open and shut before it closes completely and his gaze settles on me, unreadable as I reach the door.

"Oh, and thank you." His brows furrow, "Thank you for ensuring I will never, ever treat my child the way you did yours. My children will be loved and supported even when they make a mistake- we're only human after all." I don't bother to turn around and I stomp down the hall and out onto the slippery townhouse steps. The air bitting at my blush.

What did I just do?

I freeze on the top step scanning the street as my mind boggles with what just happened. I just- well I just... I don't know. My chest heaves, with anger or embarrassment -I'm not entirely sure. My breath adding to the clouds in the snowy sky. There are no more tears, I'm not sure when they stopped but I'm not sure what came over me either.

A warm arm snakes around my waist and without protest, I lean into Blazes side as he walks us towards the car in silence. When we reach his grampas car he turns me to look at him, worry lines swimming around his eyes.

"You okay-"

"Did I just do that?" I stare nonchalantly at Blaze, who doesn't quite know how to gauge my reaction. A small amused smirk rests on his lips and he squeezes my elbows.

"Yeah. You did that." I stare at him for a second longer before we both burst into laughter, he pulls me into his chest, our laughter merging as one in his shirt. "My little firecracker." He mumbles into my hair. I peer up at him once our laughter subsides and I can tell he's happy I'm laughing at not crying. I may still be sad and very angry but...

"That felt good. Like weirdly good... like I kinda needed that..." I feel bad for going off, letting the anger control me but it did feel good being able to express it.

"Yeah, it should." He lifts my chin between his fingers, "And don't you dare feel bad for it, I can see it in your eyes Blondie. You're like an open book to me. He was an asshole and he had it coming. You don't need them."

"Yeah. He was an asshole." And I don't need them. "Can we go home?" Because I have a family. The mother who took me in with no qualms, the grandparents who let me stay before they'd even met me, the sister who looks up to me and the boy... the boy I love.

"Yeah, lets-"

"Wait!" A shriek sounds from the top of the steps making us both turn. My grandmother hobbles down the steps in her heels, waving her arm. When she reaches the sidewalk she dashes over to us and stops just short of me, unease coating her face. Her hands waiver at her sides before she moves them towards my face. I dodge back from her touch but she catches my cheeks, more tears glistening in her eyes.

"You look so much like her. My little Evie." She whispers. Her touch is cold and nothing like my moms, it almost makes me shrivel beneath her but before I can she drops her hands and any trace of emotion is gone. She turns quickly and heads back up the stairs.