Page 183 of Silent Shadows

I freeze.

“No one was supposed to notice that.”

He nods. Wind shifts through pines outside the windows.

“You’re asking the wrong questions,” Owen says after a minute.

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“You keep asking if you care about her more than the hunt.”

My jaw tightens. “Right, and I still don’t know the answer because I’m allergic to sanity and happiness.”

He nods once, a small smile on his lips.

“Well, you’re not wrong there. But the question is whether the hunt—whether all of this—still matters without her.”

The answer should be obvious. This is my thing. My life. The thing I built everything around.

And yet, the couch feels emptier than the woods feel mysterious. The absence of her voice is louder than my mind’s relentless string of questions. The push to find the unknown burns less than the drive to keep the known.

Owen rests his palm on my shoulder and gives it a small nudge. Gentler than usual.

“She left because she’s scared,” he says.

I stare at him.

“She told you that?”

“No.”

“Then how⁠—”

“You two are more alike than you realize.”

I’m offended on Daisy’s behalf.

“That’s not true,” I say, shaking my head.

Owen ignores my protestation and continues. “You both hide behind things. She hides behind confidence—” he takes a deep breath—“and you hide behind obsession.”

The words land hard. Painfully hard. Because I am obsessed.

“If this is all bullshit—” My laugh breaks, sounding like a cry. “What does that say about me? What if I’m just some guy who couldn’t let go of these dumb searches for the unexplained… or for them?” The words crack unexpectedly. Embarrassing. Owen knows who I’m talking about.

I stare harder out the window till it becomes a blur of blue over red.

Owen sighs. “You think Mom and Dad were only interested in this stuff because they wanted proof?”

I blink. “Well…”

“No.” His voice gentles. “They did it because it gave them a common goal. They got to be together. And they cared because it made the world feel bigger.”

His thumb taps the steering wheel again.

“You and Daisy talked for hours about impossible things,” he says. “Not because you knew they were real. But because wondering together made grief and fear feel smaller.”

Something painful shifts low in my chest. He keeps going. “And yeah, maybe you needed something to hold on to.”