Nodding, I stepped back and stood there as he started his bike before riding off into the night, wondering if I would ever see him again.
Chapter Eleven
Rowen
Several hours later, I returned to the beach house on Cape Hatteras and immediately noticed Melissa sitting alone on the sand. The lights in the house glowed softly, signaling that Sinclair was inside, likely waiting for my return and an update. Still, a persistent sense of worry gnawed at me, urging me toward Melissa even as I imagined Sinclair’s impatience.
For a moment, I hesitated on the porch, glancing between the glowing windows and the quiet beach. The envelopes in my pocket seemed to hum with their own urgency. I wondered what words Ghost had left behind for Tucker and Melissa, and whether I’d ever have to deliver them. The wind off the water carried the faint sound of laughter from inside the house, reminding me that life kept moving forward, no matter how heavy the past felt.
I left my bag by the door and stepped onto the path leading to the shore, the salty breeze brushing against my skin. Each step stirred up the scent of sun-warmed dune grass, and the distant sound of waves crashing mixed with Melissa’s quiet silhouette as the sun set in a wash of orange and violet.
With each step, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty pressed on my chest. I thought about the promise I’d made to Ghost, the weight of his trust, and how moments like these—quiet, suspended between day and night—seemed to carry more meaning than any conversation could. The sky deepened into twilight, and I slowed, letting the hush of the evening settle around me. As I drew closer to Melissa, her posture told me shesensed my approach, but she didn’t turn. I took a breath, steeling myself to say the right thing, knowing this night would linger long after the sun was gone.
Without a word, I lowered myself onto the sand beside Melissa, the hush of the evening settling around us. She hugged her knees close, shoulders shaking with silent sobs that she made no effort to hide. The sight of her pain struck something deep within me, instantly bringing to mind the envelopes Ghost had entrusted to me earlier. I realized I didn’t need to break the silence or ask her what was wrong—the meaning of those letters felt clear in that moment, their significance heavy against my chest. Ghost had prepared for any possibility, and now his final words, sealed inside those envelopes, rested just inches away inside my jacket. As I sat there, listening to Melissa’s quiet weeping beneath the darkening sky, I could only hope that I would never have to hand her those messages, and that his precautions would prove unnecessary.
“I think I saw you once before, at an NYU lecture on the Harmful Effects of Technology and Childhood Development. Dr. Scott was the speaker. I didn’t remember until just recently, when I was talking with a friend.”
“No need to apologize. I was only there to babysit and make sure Gideon behaved himself.”
“Why would Gideon need a babysitter?”
“Gideon’s the best in his field when it comes to childhood trauma, education, and therapy, but honestly, he’s a pain in the ass and doesn’t care much about anyone—unless they’re under three feet tall.”
Melissa’s voice was quiet, almost lost in the sound of the waves. “When I was in college, learning to be a child therapist, I wanted to be just like him. I learned everything I could about how to help children with trauma and how to help them processeverything that happened to them. I was good at it. I miss that work.”
“Why did you stop?”
“Because when I walked into the Silver Shadows’ clubhouse with my daughter, looking for my brother, I never dreamed Travis would be there.”
I glanced at her, puzzled.
She gave a faint, wistful smile. “He was supposed to be a one-night stand,” she said, her gaze drifting toward the horizon. “I met Travis in a bar in Oklahoma City. I was there with some friends, drinking and dancing. Then our eyes met across the room.” She scoffed. “It was so cliché, but somehow perfect, and, well, the bathroom in the bar wasn’t exactly private.”
I couldn’t help but let out a short laugh. “I’ve found myself in that bathroom a few times too.”
Melissa’s lips quirked upward, then she looked down, tracing patterns in the sand. “When we left, I was planning to go with him to the motel—until I saw his bike and knew I had to walk away.”
“Why did seeing his bike change things?”
She hesitated, looking away, letting the silence linger before continuing, “I hated bikers, the life, and everything that went with it. My life was so different from Travis’. He had a mother who worked herself to the bone to support him and Tucker. My mother was a drug addict, always chasing her next fix—even offering her own daughter just to get high.” She paused, voice trembling. “Gunner is my older brother; he always tried to protect me when our mother couldn’t. He finally got me out of there, but it was too late—the damage had already been done. So, when I left for college, when my brother left me, I promised myself I’d never go back to that world.”
Her shoulders shook as she took a shaky breath. “But then I saw Travis again. I tried to fight him off, tried to keep mydistance. But I wasn’t strong enough. Now, I can’t imagine my life without him. If it weren’t for Danika, I would have followed him.” She wiped at her eyes, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
I waited for her to collect herself, giving her space to share what she needed. “I think you can do anything you put your mind to, Melissa. This world isn’t easy—you know that better than most. It’s what we make of it, in the good times and the bad, that keeps us moving forward. I think if you give yourself time, you will find you are capable of a lot more.”
Looking at me with tears streaming down her face, she whispered, “What if he doesn’t come back?”
Her question hung heavily in the air, curling between us like the mist that rose off the ocean. I searched her face for a sign of hope, something to cling to, but all I found was raw uncertainty. “Then you keep living,” I said softly, reaching for her hand. “You keep breathing, one moment at a time. And if he doesn’t come back, you’ll find a way to stand again. Not because it’s easy, but because you have to—for yourself and for Danika.”
Leaning close to me, I held her as she cried, uncertain what the future held for her, and prayed that, whatever lay ahead, she was strong enough to weather the storm. As the sound of the waves filled the quiet between us, the sky deepened to shades of indigo and gold. Melissa wiped her cheeks, her expression settling into something resolute, even as her hand trembled in mine. I felt the weight of her story, the ache of her past mixing with the uncertainty of her tomorrow. In that moment, I vowed to keep my promise to Ghost, no matter what the future brought.
A heavy stillness settled over the beach house, as if the entire world had come to a halt. Sinclair left early the next morning, needed in Chicago, and hoping to learn more, telling me he’d call with news. Ordinary routines, such as preparing and eating breakfast, lost their importance; no one showed any interest in food, their hunger replaced by a desperate need for news and answers. Sleep was rare and fleeting, with restless nights spent waiting for updates. The house, once lively, now felt like a tomb occupied by the living. Every time a phone buzzed—a text message, email, or call—everyone held their breath, expecting the worst. An unspoken question lingered in the air: Was this the moment everything changed? Had the war begun?
The hours passed with slow inevitability, each minute stretched taut with anxiety and silent prayers. I watched as Melissa clung to small distractions—a half-hearted card game, a walk along the shoreline—anything to break the cycle of dread that threatened to swallow her whole. Even her laughter, when it came, sounded fragile and uncertain, a thin veneer over the fear we all shared.
Nights settled quietly over the beach house. I stayed hidden, watching as she gathered in the living room with Roxy and Dante, the lamp’s glow casting long shadows on the walls. Danika curled in Melissa’s lap, thumb in her mouth, her soft breaths a comfort in the silence. No one spoke much; the television flickered with muted headlines we tried to ignore. At times, the only sound was the distant crash of waves and, once, the low rumble of a motorcycle passing by on the road, making Melissa tense and watchful. She seemed to retreat into her own thoughts, wondering what tomorrow might bring and holding on to any shred of hope she could find.
The tension grew heavier with each passing hour, pressing down on everyone in the house. Even the sound of the waves outside felt distant, muffled by the anxious energy that clung tothe walls. Sometimes, she’d look over at me, and I would offer her a small, reassuring nod, silently promising her reassurance, to hold on until something finally broke the silence.
