I stoodon the porch, arms wrapped around my middle, rocking on my heels. A morning breeze tugged at my hair, cool against skin that still felt raw from crying.
This was the last place I’d seen her. My mother. And if anyone needed to know the truth, it was Ash. I had to tell him that Jane Doe wasn’t her.
But as I continued to stand there, waiting, I realized I didn’t even know if Ash was home.
I started to turn around, scolding myself for showing up unannounced, when the door finally creaked open.
Ash stood there, sleep still clinging to his features, his dark hair a mess and a mug in his hand. He started to smile when he saw me—until he took in my expression.
His whole face shifted.
“Skye?” He stepped forward. “What happened? Are you okay?”
I opened my mouth, tried to find words, but nothing came. Just a tight, trembling breath that made my chest ache.
“It’s not her, Ash,” I choked out.
He blinked. “What?”
I didn’t have the strength to say more. I stood there, crumbling all over again.
“Hey,” he said softly, voice tight. “You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”
“It’s not Mom,” I whispered.
His body stilled.
Brow furrowing, he searched my face. “Come in,” he said, voice low. “Please.”
I didn’t hesitate this time. I walked past him into the living room that had changed so much since we were kids. He led me to the couch and sat beside me.
“Tell me what’s going on.” He set his mug on the coffee table.
I wiped my face, taking a deep, shaky breath. “Detective Whize got permission to let me see the evidence box,” I explained. “From the Jane Doe case.”
His brows lifted. “You went this morning?”
I nodded. “I thought I’d recognize something. I thought the bracelet…I thought it was hers.”
“The one you made,” he said quietly.
“Yeah.”
He didn’t rush me. He merely sat there, listening.
“It wasn’t.” I shook my head. “I was so sure when I saw the photo. I’m not even sure why I wanted it to be her so…desperately.”
He was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, “I used to pretend she was dead.”
I looked at him sharply.
“It was easier,” he said, not looking at me, “than believing she didn’t want us.”
My heart shattered behind my ribs.
“I think I needed her to be Jane Doe,” I whispered. “I needed to believe there was some reason. Some tragedy. Because otherwise, it’s just…abandonment.”
Ash’s hand tightened around mine. “I get it.”
