Chapter 7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
GARRISON
The shelter is louder than the others. Not chaotic—just full. Voices layered on top of voices. Shoes scraping against tile. The sound of the generators somewhere in the background. It’s alive in a way that feels almost overwhelming after everything we’ve seen.
I push the door open and step inside first, scanning automatically.
Habit. Training. Crowd density. Exit points. Potential hazards.
But it doesn’t take long for all of that to fade behind the only thing that matters right now— Finding them.
Willow stays close beside me. Not touching. But close enough that I can feel her there. I glance at her. She’s already searching.
Her eyes move quickly, scanning faces, rows of cots, clusters of people sitting together. Every time she pauses on someone for a fraction of a second too long, I can see the hope spark— And then die.
Again. And again. And again. My chest tightens.
“Okay,” I say quietly, keeping my voice steady. “We’ll start at that side. Work our way through.”
She nods, already moving before I even finish.
I follow.
We move through the rows slowly, deliberately.
“Excuse me,” Willow says, stopping near a woman sitting on a cot. “Have you seen a man—um—mid-fifties, dark hair, probably with a teenage girl? Her name’s—”
The woman shakes her head apologetically.
“No, I’m sorry.”
Willow forces a small smile. “Thank you.”
We move on. Same question. Same answer. Over and over. Each time, her voice gets a little quieter. Each time, the hope in her eyes dims just a little more. I can feel it happening. Like watching something break in slow motion.
“Willow,” I say gently at one point, catching her arm just enough to slow her down.
She looks up at me, and the look on her face—It hits hard. Because she’s trying. Trying to hold it together. Trying not to fall apart in front of all these people.
“They have to be here,” she says, her voice tight. “This is the biggest shelter in the area. They said people were being brought here—”
“I know,” I say softly.
“But what if they’re not?” she presses, her voice cracking just slightly. “What if we’re just—what if we’re wasting time—”
“Hey.”
I step closer, lowering my voice.
“We’re not wasting time.”
Her eyes search mine, desperate.
“But what if—”
“We don’t go there,” I say, firmer this time. “Not yet.”
My hand tightens slightly on her arm, grounding.
“We keep looking.”
She swallows hard.
Nods. But I can see it. She’s losing hope. And it’s tearing me apart watching it happen.
“Alright,” I say, forcing a little more energy into my voice. “Let’s try the registration table. They might have names.”
She nods again, following me this time instead of leading.
We make our way toward the front of the room where a few volunteers are working behind folding tables, stacks of papers and laptops scattered in front of them.
I step up first.
“Excuse me,” I say, leaning slightly over the table. “We’re looking for two people. David—”
“David,” Willow jumps in, her voice urgent now. “David Harper. And my sister, Emma. She’s fifteen.”
The volunteer—a man in his forties with tired eyes and a kind expression—pauses, thinking.
“Harper…” he repeats, flipping through a clipboard.
My pulse picks up.
Willow leans in beside me, barely breathing. He scans the page once. Then again. Shakes his head slightly.
“I don’t see them on this list,” he says.
I feel Willow’s shoulders drop beside me. Just slightly. But it’s enough.
“Are you sure?” she asks, her voice small.
“I can double-check—”
“I think I saw them.”
The words come from someone behind the table.
A woman this time. Younger. She looks up from where she’s typing, her brow furrowed slightly.
“I’m pretty sure I saw a man and a teenage girl come in earlier today,” she says. “The girl was holding onto him pretty tight.”
Willow goes still.
Then—
“What?” she breathes.
The woman nods slowly. “Yeah. They came in with one of the rescue groups this morning.”
Hope. It hits so fast I can almost feel it physically. Willow turns toward me, her eyes wide, bright—Alive again.
“They’re here,” she says, her voice lifting for the first time all day. “They’re here, Garrison.”
Before I can even respond, she jumps—actually jumps—her hands flying up to grab onto my arms.
“They’re here!”
A laugh breaks out of her, shaky and breathless and full of something I haven’t seen since before the storm.
I smile.
“Alright,” I say, steady but lighter now. “Then let’s find them.”
She nods quickly, already turning back toward the crowd.
“Do you remember where you saw them?” I ask the volunteer.
The woman gestures toward the far side of the room. “They were sitting somewhere over there earlier. Near the back.”
“Thank you,” Willow says quickly, already moving.
I follow right behind her.
The energy in her has completely shifted. She’s faster now. More focused. Hope driving every step.
“Dad!” she calls out as we move deeper into the shelter, her voice cutting through the noise. “Emma!”
Heads turn. People glance over. But she doesn’t care. She keeps going.
“Dad!”
My chest tightens again—but this time, it’s different. Because now—there’s a chance. We weave through the crowd, scanning faces, moving faster now. And for the first time since this started—It feels like we’re not just searching. It feels like we’re close.
Like at any second—Everything might finally come back together.
Hope has us on a warpath. It sharpens everything—your eyes, your instincts, your focus. Every face we pass feels like it could be the one. Every voice, every movement, every corner we turn—It all matters now.
“Dad!” Willow calls again, her voice cutting through the noise, stronger this time. “Emma!”
I stay right behind her, close enough to reach her if the crowd shifts too hard, close enough that if this goes sideways—I’ve got her.
A man sitting on a cot near the back glances up as we pass. His eyes linger on Willow for a second. Then he straightens.
“Hey—” he says, pointing. “You’re looking for someone?”
Willow turns instantly. “Yes—my dad. David Harper. And my sister—Emma. She’s fifteen.”
The man nods quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I saw them.”
Everything stops.
“Where?” Willow breathes.
“They were over there,” he says, pointing toward a cluster of cots near the far wall. “The girl had a blanket wrapped around her. Looked shaken up. The dad wouldn’t let go of her hand. She had her hair in braids…”
Willow’s entire body lights up.
“Oh my God,” she says, her voice breaking into something bright and breathless. “That’s them. That’s them.”
She turns to me, eyes wide, shining—And then she’s in my arms.
No hesitation. No thought. She just throws herself into me, her arms wrapping tight around my shoulders like she needs to hold onto something real.
“They’re here,” she says, laughing and crying at the same time. “They’re here, Garrison. I knew it—I knew they’d be okay—”
My arms come around her automatically, holding her close, feeling the way she’s shaking—not from fear this time, but from relief.
“I told you,” I murmur, my voice softer than I mean it to be. “We’d find them.”
She pulls back just enough to look at me, her hands still gripping my shirt.
And God—The look on her face.
Pure relief. Pure joy. And underneath it—Something else. Something that hits me right in the chest.
Before I can think. Before I can stop—I lean in. And I kiss her. It’s not like the others. Not controlled. It’s everything at once. All of it crashing together in the space between us.
Her lips part against mine instantly, like she’s been waiting for this just as much as I have, her hands tightening on my shirt as she pulls me closer.
And I let her. I take it.
My hand slides up into her hair, gripping gently but firmly, tilting her head just enough as I deepen the kiss without thinking, without holding back.
Because I can’t. Not right now. Not when she’s holding me like that.
Not when everything we’ve been holding in finally has somewhere to go.
She presses into me, her body fitting against mine like it’s always meant to be there, and it sends a rush through me so strong it almost knocks the air from my lungs.
This—This is what I’ve been trying to stay away from.
This is what I promised—But I don’t care. Not in this moment. Not when it feels like this. Her fingers curl into my shirt, her breath catching as the kiss deepens, and I swear I feel it everywhere—my chest, my hands, my pulse pounding so hard it drowns out everything else.
The world narrows. It’s just us.
Then—
Pain explodes across my face. Out of nowhere. Fast and Violent. I don’t even see it coming. One second I’m kissing her—
The next—I’m on the ground.
The impact knocks the breath out of me, my head snapping to the side as my body hits hard against the floor.
“What the hell—”
Voices rise around us. Shocked. Sharp. I blink, disoriented, my ears ringing as I push myself up on instinct, one hand coming to my jaw. It throbs. I taste blood.
And then I see him. Standing over me. Chest heaving. Fist still clenched.
David. Shit.
His eyes are locked on me, and I’ve never seen anything like what’s in them.
Fury. Pure, unfiltered fury.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demands, his voice shaking with it.
Willow gasps behind me. “Dad—wait—”
“You don’t touch her!” he snaps, stepping forward again like he might swing a second time.
I push to my feet, steadying myself, my instincts screaming to react—But I don’t.
I can’t. Not him.
“David,” I start, my voice rough, “listen—”
“No,” he cuts me off sharply. “You listen to me.”
He points at me, his hand shaking.
“I trusted you,” he says. “I let you into my home. Into my family. And this—” he gestures between me and Willow, his expression twisting with anger and betrayal “—this is what you do?”
My jaw tightens, pain still pulsing through it.
“I didn’t—”
“Don’t,” he snaps again. “Don’t even try to explain it.”
Willow steps forward, her voice breaking. “Dad, it’s not—”
“It is exactly what it looks like,” he says, not taking his eyes off me. “And I told you—” his voice drops, low and dangerous now “—I told you to stay away from her.”
The promise. It hits like another punch. I straighten slowly, forcing myself to meet his gaze.
“I know,” I say.
“Clearly you don’t.”
“I do.”
“Then what the hell was that?” he demands.
I don’t answer. Because there isn’t one. Not one he’ll accept. Not one that makes this okay. The silence stretches.
And behind me—I can feel Willow caught in the middle. And everything is shattered.