“I don’t know how to let anyone stay. How to let anyone in,” I admit, voice cracking down the center.
Ava lifts her hand slowly, like she’s giving me time to run, then brushes her fingertips against my fist—just one soft touch.
“Then let us teach you.”
The room feels too small for all the truths pressing into it.
I don’t say yes. But I don’t say no.
And that—in my world—is as close to hope as I’ve ever allowed myself.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ava
I am not snooping.
That’s the lie I cling to while pacing the kitchen for the third time, searching for the grocery receipt that absolutely existed when I unpacked the bags. Violet left for school an hour ago, the fire crackles softly, and my brain refuses to settle. I check behind the toaster. Inside the drawer. Under the fruit bowl. Nothing.
Frustration pushes heat into my chest. Fine. Maybe I left it somewhere else.
Maybe the workshop.
Jax is in the shower—steam hissing faintly down the hall—so I take my chance. The door to the workshop yields easily, unlocking a room built of order and precision. Everything has a place. Tools hung in perfect alignment. Workbench spotless. No clutter—just intention.
Except for the thin black binder shoved tight against the underside of a shelf, its corner poking out like an invitation.
I hesitate.
Then I pull it free.
Inside are neatly organized pages of printed articles—old headlines, carefully trimmed and taped.
UNSTOPPABLE: Tech Prodigy Jackson Hale Debuts Crisis-Response Innovation
A smiling, clean-shaven version of him onstage with a laser pointer in hand, introducing a snow-sensor technology designed to save lives.
My stomach tightens.
Another article:
TRAGEDY IN SEATTLE — Fiancée of Tech Innovator Killed in Multi-Car Collision
Emily Turner, CFO of his company, pregnant at the time. Never made it to the hospital.
A photo shows her laughing beside him—radiant, expectant.
My fingers tremble as I turn to the next page.
BRILLIANT MIND LOST — Jackson Hale Presumed Dead After Mountain Crash. No Body Recovered. Investigation Ongoing.
The date. The location. The fresh grief stamped into every paragraph.
He was gone. Loved. Mourned. Headlines screamed his loss to the world.
But he didn’t die. He ran.
The articles blur as tears crowd my vision. The ache inside me shifts—fear mixing with betrayal, compassion tangled with shock.
