“Probably look for some family,” I said. “See if anyone on my mom’s or dad’s side is still alive. Maybe someone wants to reconnect.”
He nodded, then pulled out his phone. His thumb moved across the screen.
“I just sent you the number of the private investigator I used. He can fill you in on what he found, and if you want him to dig deeper, he’ll do it.”
“Thank you.”
“Can...” He hesitated. “Can I call you later today?”
The tears came harder. I shook my head.
He took the answer without protest. “I’m guessing later this week or next isn’t great either?”
I didn’t respond, just kept my eyes on the horizon.
His hand lifted again. This time, he wiped away my tears.
“Don’t cry,” he said softly. “I found you when we were kids. And then again, all these years later. I’ll find you again someday.”
“Thank you,” I mouthed, too wrecked to push out the words.
It all hurt too much. My throat ached from trying to hold it in. The grief. The confusion. The weight of goodbye.
I might as well throw myself into the ocean with Daniel’s father or leave before I actually did it.
So I turned.
And left.
I could feel Daniel’s gaze following me the whole way, from the small pier, up the steps toward the Breakers.
A few of the dogs wandered by as I walked through the door inside the kitchen. I paused to pet them gently. Then I scooped up Mochi from the kitchen counter and grabbed my wallet and my laptop. Everything else, I left behind.
Outside, the gravel was wet and slick underfoot as I climbed into the car we’d come in. Mochi sat in his cage on the passenger seat, tense and still. His feathers puffed up slightly. The poor thing hadn’t relaxed all night.
“I love you,” he said in his oddly emotionless voice as the tires crunched slowly over the soaked road that stretched a mile from the Breakers to the mainland.
My eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. The mansion sat tall and still on the rock island, surrounded by calm waves.
The sky lit up in streaks of deep orange and burning red as I reached the mainland. Fallen trees lined the roadside. Broken power lines leaned in strange angles like crooked arms reaching for something.
The storm had left a mark.
I pulled over past the curve and gripped the steering wheel so tightly, my knuckles turned white.
The sobs came hard and fast, breaking out from somewhere deep. I cried for Daniel. For my mother. For Hudson. And for myself.
Maybe the Breakers did take from everyone, just like Daniel said it did.
Or maybe it was just a house. No curse. No soul. Just wood and stone and memory.
Whatever it was, part of me would always stay behind, no matter how far I ran—whether I was on foot, like I’d been during the storm that had almost taken my life the first time, or driving away now, after another storm that had nearly done it again.
“I love you,” Mochi repeated, softer this time.
“I love you too,” I said, glancing at him.
My eyes drifted back to the mirror. Back to the mansion. Back to Daniel. To my mother.
