No Sunday mornings tangled in warmth and laughter.
No quick footsteps racing down the hall, shrieking with glee. Hale jumping on the bed to come cuddle with us.
No quiet gestures that make my world feel safe again.
Just a past that won't die and a future that doesn't want me.
So why do I still close my eyes at night and imagine what it would feel like?
Why do I keep torturing myself with something I can't have?
I allow a single tear to fall before I stand and make my way to my bed.
Tristan doesn't know.
And he never can.
It would destroy him.
SIX
TRISTAN
The villa sits on a hill overlooking miles of vines that spill into the valley below. Postcards are made out of landscapes exactly like this.
Too bad it does dick all for me.
Nick leans against the counter, scrolling through documents. My tablet pings and Zara's face fills the screen.
"Morning, children. Tristan, you look awful. Are you sleeping, or did you decide you're too good for basic needs now?"
I don't even have the energy to do this with her, which is very telling considering I normally enjoy Zara's banter. "Tell me what you have."
"A new identity surfaced. A woman linked to one of the Ferryman's shell households on the British coast. No photo, minimal details, but the timing matches."
All traces of fatigue are gone. "Which coast?"
"North of Scotland. Super hidden." She hesitates. "There's a marriage file tied to the address. The bride's name is redacted."
Nick looks at me. "You think it's Keira?"
"I hope not."
"The file lists a child in the household. No gender or name. Just a notation for pediatric medicine delivery."
Nick's shoulders drop. "Fuck."
She's married.
A dull feeling twists sharply in my gut.
Maybe she wanted this. Maybe this guy was her endgame all along and I was just the idiot who got played.
But then why send the lockbox?
Why now, after all these years? Why send me a photo of our son if she didn't want me to come? She knew what it would do to me, so why?
Unless she didn't. Maybe she's trapped and the lockbox wasn't a taunt but a call for help.
