CHAPTER NINTEEN
Kamden
“C
ongratulations, Kamden. You’ve just become a silent partner in your restaurants," my lawyer says, clasping my hand firmly as he slides the signed paperwork across the polished mahogany table. His flight into town was a short one, but the decision it finalizes feels like a monumental shift—one I never thought I’d make.
Today, I officially step back from the day-to-day operations of my businesses. The restaurants I built from scratch in San Diego are no longer mine to run, at least not in the traditional sense. The new executive chef I brought in will take over front-of-house decisions, staffing, menus, all of it. I’ll still handle major business calls and financial decisions—stuff I can manage remotely—but for the first time since I opened my first location, I’m no longer in the kitchen or on the floor.
And honestly? That’s exactly how it needs to be.
Avery’s disappearance changed everything.
It’s been months now. Long, empty months filled with search parties, interviews, late-night phone calls, press conferences, and dead ends. The house she built into a home is still hers, but it’s us keeping it alive. Her dad, Dan, refuses to step foot inside until she comes home, so we made it our mission to be there—for her, and for him. Every room, every plant, every detail she designed has become sacred to us. Letting it fall into silence and dust would feel like giving up. And we’re not doing that.
But that doesn’t mean doubt hasn’t started clawing at the edges.
There’s this relentless pressure under my ribs—this quiet, gnawing voice asking how long we can keep doing this. How long before the trail is officially cold? How long before we start to believe she won’t be found? No one says it out loud, but I know I’m not the only one who feels it. It's in the long silences between us, in the weight of Dan’s eyes when he looks toward the front door like he’s expecting her to walk through it at any second. It’s in the grief we’re all too afraid to name.
So, I did what I could. I followed my brothers' lead.
Jaxton told Hollywood to go fuck itself. Full stop. He walked away from the industry that made him a millionaire. Liam and Lennox backed out of every contract they had lined up. And me? I sold off forty percent of my restaurant shares, made myself a silent partner, and handed over the reins to someone I trust. We’ve got enough money between the four of us to never lift a finger again and still live well. But this isn’t about money.
It’s about time. Time we’ll never get back if we waste it looking the other way.
We chose to stay. Oregon is where our hearts are anchored now—not because of the state or the scenery, but because this is where she is. Somewhere. She has to be.
Staring down at the signed documents, there’s a strange sense of closure. Like this version of my life—the version where I built empires—is paused indefinitely. Maybe forever. But I’d trade every restaurant, every accolade, every fucking dollar in my bank account just to hear her laugh again.
Because when she comes home—and I still believe she will—I want to be standing on that porch. I want her to see us there. To know she was never forgotten. Never abandoned.
I pull into Dan’s driveway just after six, the sky already painted with streaks of orange and purple. The guys are inside—I can hear them through the windows, their voices low but lively, and the occasional burst of laughter spilling onto the porch like music. Dan wanted to do a pizza night, crack open a few beers, and catch the football game. Just something normal. Something that makes us feel like the world hasn’t fallen apart.
I can’t blame him. We all need this.
They’re all waiting for me. I know it without even walking through the door. Waiting to hear how the paperwork went. Waiting to see if I’m still standing after handing over the reins to the empire I built from scratch.
I step inside and sure enough, four sets of eyes land on me instantly—Dan’s included. He’s standing near the kitchen, stacking paper plates while the others sprawl across the couch and chairs. Jaxton lifts his chin, beer in hand. “Well?”
“It’s done,” I say simply, sliding my keys onto the hook by the door and grabbing the first cold beer I see. “Signed, sealed, and completely out of my hands.”
Liam leans back with a low whistle. “Damn. Just like that?”
“Just like that,” I nod, cracking open the bottle and taking a long drink. “Honestly, it was easier than I expected. Once I realized I’d already made the choice—months ago—it was just about following through. No regrets.”
Lennox raises a slice of pepperoni pizza in salute. “Here’s to doing what matters.”
We clink bottles and cans together before we settle in, the living room full of warmth, even with Avery’s absence clinging to the corners like a shadow. Dan tosses me a grin as he carries over a stack of napkins.
“You boys are something else,” he says, voice a little rough. “Giving up your careers like that... sticking around for her... I hope she knows, wherever she is, how damn loved she is.”
“She will,” Jaxton says with quiet conviction, his eyes locked on the television, but his mind clearly somewhere else. “We’ll make sure she knows.”
That silence follows again, the kind that settles whenever her name is spoken aloud. It’s heavy—but not hopeless.
To shift the mood, I raise a brow and throw out a joke that’s been floating around since we started renovating Avery’s yard. “You know, once she’s home, we’ll probably all end up roped into her landscaping projects. No more concerts, no more movie sets, no more fine dining—just dirt and boulders.”
Lennox snorts. “Speak for yourself. I’ll be the official boulder relocator. My back’s already prepped.”
“Right,” Liam chuckles. “And I’ll be the guy responsible for making sure we’re all hydrated. You know, in case someone forgets to drink water while digging out half the backyard.”
Dan perks up at that, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. “Hell, I’ll come out of retirement. I’ll be the water boy. Show up every day just to hang around and pester you slackers.”
“Deal,” I laugh. “But only if you wear the little visor and carry the cooler.”
“Only if someone gets me a name badge,” he grins. “Dan ‘The Hydration Station.’”
We all burst into laughter, the first genuine kind that doesn’t feel forced or dulled by grief. It rolls through the room, echoing off the walls and into the corners where silence used to live.
It’s nights like this that keep us grounded. Nights where we let ourselves hope. Where we plan not for the worst, but for the day she walks back through the door and into the life that’s still waiting for her.
And maybe that’s why I let go of the restaurants so easily. Because this—this life we’ve built here, as messy and uncertain and painful as it is—is the one that feels like it matters now. Sitting in Dan’s living room, surrounded by my brothers, planning imaginary job titles for when Avery returns home... it reminds me of what we’re really fighting for.
Dan sets the last pizza box down in the center of the table with a quiet grunt, grease spots already soaking through the bottom of the cardboard. He grabs his beer, takes a long pull like it’s been a day longer than it has—like it’s been years instead of just one more aching day without her—and gruffly announces, “Alright, boys. Eat up. Drink up.”
We barely move. It’s not that we’re not hungry—we just know better by now. These nights are about pretending things are okay, not actually believing it.
The familiar buzz of a phone vibrating on the counter breaks the moment.
Dan’s brows knit together as he steps toward the counter, his entire posture weighted with exhaustion. He picks up the phone and answers in that same voice we’ve all come to expect—gritty, frayed at the edges.
“Yeah,” he mutters—short, sharp, worn to the bone.
It’s the kind of tone you use when you’ve already braced for disappointment. When you’ve stopped hoping it might be anything else.
It’s usually the detectives. Another dead end. Another false lead. Another I'm sorry, we’re still doing everything we can. But tonight… something’s different. Something shifts.
My heart kicks once—then again, harder—pounding a beat so loud it drowns out the rest of the room. Call it intuition, or divine intervention, or just months of praying and begging the universe for one damn miracle. But the moment Dan says hello, I know something is coming.
His face drains of color. Beer bottle slips from his hand, clattering against the tile in a sharp explosion of glass and foam. The sound snaps us out of our zombie-like fog.
Liam is the first to react, standing so quickly his chair topples behind him. Jaxton’s on his heels, knocking over his own drink, while Lennox and I freeze in place—every muscle tight, breath locked in our lungs.
Dan doesn’t speak. Just stares at the floor like the words are trying to pull themselves together inside his chest.
My jaw clenches, and I nearly lose it. “ Dan —what is it?” I bark, voice sharper than I intend, but the silence is unbearable. The air is thick with expectation, heavy and trembling with possibilities.
Good or bad. That’s what we’re all waiting for.
They’ve either found her alive… or they’ve found her body.
Dan’s lips part, but no sound comes. His throat works like he’s swallowing back a scream—or a sob. Then, slowly, his phone lowers from his ear with trembling fingers. A beat of silence. Then another.
Finally— finally —his eyes meet ours.
They’re brimming. Red-rimmed. Glassy with tears that haven’t fallen yet.
And then he says it.
A whisper at first, like he almost doesn’t believe it himself.
“They found her.”
Silence slams into the room like a tidal wave.
For a full breath, no one moves.
No one breathes.
And then the world explodes.
“ They what? ” Jaxton roars, his voice cracking with disbelief.
“Where? Is she okay?” Liam chokes, already pulling out his phone.
Dan’s smiling now. A real, wide, achingly beautiful smile that lights up his entire face, washing away years of grief in seconds. “They found her alive. She’s alive, boys. They’re taking her to the hospital now.”
Lennox sinks to the floor, both hands gripping the back of his neck as if he’s afraid he might fall apart if he lets go. Jaxton is pacing, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles are white, eyes wet. Liam has dropped into the nearest chair, staring at the wall like it’s speaking directly to his soul.
And me?
I can’t move. I can’t think. My knees wobble, heart pounding like it might split open in my chest. All I can hear is those three words.
They found her.
Alive.
Alive.
Alive.
Dan pulls me into a hug before I even realize he’s moving, his arms crushing, desperate. I hug him back just as hard, emotion breaking loose in a sudden, gasping rush that leaves me dizzy.
This is real.
It’s finally real.
Our girl is coming home.