Chapter 8
Cal
The front door closed behind them, and the silence that followed was deafening.
Just like that—she was gone, out of my reach, out of my life.
Her words ring in my ears: You ruined my life. You took the only thing I had in this world.
And then what cut deeper than any knife ever could—You’re a monster.
I’m sitting on the porch steps, elbows on my knees, hands in my hair, when it all slams into me like a freight train.
Elle.
Dani.
Danielle.
Beth's sister.
Beth, who I’ve loved and protected since the day my parents took her in.
But Elle is right. Beth is her sister, and she was taken from her.
I glance down at the ink covering my forearm. She bit me. She was just a kid. A terrified, screaming little girl whose sister was being ripped away.
And I was the one who did it.
***
“Sweetheart, I thought you had plans,” Mom says as she opens the front door. Her cheerful tone falters the moment she sees my face. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to talk to you and Dad,” I say. “After dinner. Can we just... table it for now?”
“Hey, big brother,” Seth says as he pulls me into a quick hug. “Where’ve you been hiding?”
“Just busy at the shop,” I say, dodging any mention of the new neighbor. “Where’s Nate?”
“He and Dad are on their way,” Mom chimes in from the kitchen. "They just left the office."
“I thought he was on vacation this week.”
“He was,” Seth says, grabbing a handful of chips. “But Dad needed help with the Matthews estate, so Nate cut it short and came back a day early.”
“And Bethy?” I ask, the tightness in my chest returning. Please let me get through dinner without breaking into a sweat, or worse, tears.
“She went home with Paula after the game,” Mom says. “And I dropped off Hannah so she could play with Emily for a couple of hours. They should be home any minute.”
“Hannah and Emily have been inseparable since Emily’s birthday party last month,” I say, smiling at the memory of Elle helping Hannah pick out the perfect gift.
“What’s for dinner?” I ask, inhaling the mouthwatering mix of onions, garlic, and bell peppers.
“Fajitas,” Thomas says proudly. He’s a chef and will soon be opening a restaurant in Milton. He’s a pro when it comes to anything grilled.
“Here they are!” Mom calls out as the front door flies open and my daughter bursts in, all energy and momentum, with Beth right behind her, lugging her soccer gear.
“Daddy!” Hannah squeals, launching herself at me.
“How are my two favorite young ladies?” I say, scooping Hannah into my arms.
“Hi Cal!” Beth says brightly as she kicks the door shut behind her. “We won!”
“Of course you did," I say, "Our secret weapon came through again, huh?”
She beams. “Two saves in the second half. Coach called me ‘a wall.’”
“Have you eaten?” Thomas asks from the kitchen, flipping a tortilla with dramatic flair.
"No," Beth says. "I'm starving."
“You crushed it," I say, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I’m proud of you.”
Beth drops onto the stool at the kitchen island, reaching for a slice of bell pepper. “Paula’s mom had cupcakes though. I may have had two.”
“Is that why you're bouncing off the walls?" Seth teases, grabbing a soda from the fridge.
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“Seth,” Mom warns gently as she sets fresh baked rolls on the table. “Be nice.”
“Where’s my hug, kid?” Thomas says, opening one arm dramatically.
Beth hops up and throws her arms around him. “You smell like smoke and onions.”
“And love,” he replies, earning a groan from Beth.
The front door opens again, and Dad walks in with Nate close behind. Both look wiped, but still manage to smile as the noise of the kitchen greets them.
“Smells amazing,” Dad says, clapping Thomas on the back. “Grill master strikes again.”
“Matthews estate go okay?” I ask Nate, who’s already reaching for a chip.
“Yeah. House was gorgeous. Some incredible mid-century pieces.”
“Wait, what’s mid-century?” Beth asks, looking between us.
“Fancy old stuff Cal likes to call furniture,” Nate jokes.
Beth giggles. “You mean like the chairs that look too nice to sit on?”
“Exactly,” Seth says. “But don’t say that too loud. You’ll hurt Cal’s feelings.”
“I sit on all my chairs, thank you very much,” I reply.
“Only after buffing them with a microfiber cloth,” Thomas mutters.
Mom sets down a bowl of rice pilaf, her smile gentle. “All right, comedians. Food’s ready. Let’s eat before it gets cold.”
Beth plops into her seat and leans over to whisper, “Can I tell you something after dinner?”
I nod. “Of course.”
“It’s about a boy,” she says, then quickly adds, “But not in a weird way.”
“Got it. Totally not weird.”
Her cheeks flush a little, and she glances toward the rest of the table. “He asked if I wanted to walk with him after practice next week.”
“Do you want to?” I ask quietly.
“I think so,” she admits.
I nod again, squeezing her hand under the table. “Then walk. And if he’s a jerk, you tell me, and I'll handle it.”
Her smile stretches wide. “I knew you’d say that.”
I lean in a little closer, lowering my voice just enough for only her to hear. “And if he doesn’t keep his hands to himself, you remember what I taught you.”
Beth tries—and fails—to stifle a giggle. “Right in the shin.”
I raise a brow.
“Okay, fine. A little higher.”
“Exactly.”
She grins like it’s our secret, and I wink before handing her the bowl of fajita filling.
My eyes linger on her a moment longer. I wonder why I never noticed before—the shape of her nose, the color of her hair, the full pout of her lips, those beautiful almond-shaped eyes. She looks just like her sister—the very spitting image of Elle from ten years ago.
***
After my brothers leave, Beth and I clean up the kitchen while Mom reads to Hannah in the living room. Dad retreats to the den with a glass of iced tea and full control of the remote.
Once the girls head upstairs to Beth’s room, I make my way to the den to have the conversation I’ve been dreading all evening.
“What is it, son?” Dad asks, picking up on the tension written all over my face.
“I found Dani,” I say, the words sharp and heavy in the quiet room. There’s no easing into something like this.
“What?” Mom's eyes grow wide.
Dad straightens in his chair. “When? How?” His voice is low but urgent, like he’s bracing for a blow. “We gave up years ago. How is that even possible?”
I draw in a breath, my pulse pounding in my ears. “Her name is Elle Keaton now. But it's her. Dani. She's the girl we pulled off the street that day. The girl who left this mark on me.” I look at my arm, the words written over the scar: She’s all I have.
A stunned silence follows. Mom’s hand flies to her mouth. Dad just stares at me, eyes narrowing like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle that doesn’t want to fit.
“She’s been living next door,” I add, my voice low. “I found out tonight.”
“Is Dani the woman you’ve been dating?” Dad asks. “Or the roommate?”
“She's the woman I’ve been dating,” I clarify. “Her roommate’s name is Tina.”
“Oh my Lord,” Mom whispers. I can almost see the wheels in her mind turning, piecing together what’s been an impossible puzzle for our entire family for years.
“How did you find out?” Dad asks, wanting to get down to the crux of the matter. He’s a practical man—no frills, no BS. Just the facts. And if it’s a problem, how do we solve it?
“We were going to have dinner together,” I begin.
“We were talking when she touched my arm and felt the scar underneath the tattoo. Then she realized my first name isn’t Cal—that it’s short for Callahan.
Her brain took it from there. Before I knew it, she’d jumped off the couch and was looking at me like she was seeing me for the first time—like I was enemy number one.
She was so angry, emotional, and hurt. There was nothing I could say to calm her down or make her listen. ”
“Did you tell her we spent an entire year trying to see her at the group home before she ran away?” Mom asks, trying to make sense of it all.
“She didn’t give me a chance to explain,” I point out.
“She wanted no part of anything I had to say. She completely shut down and ran home. Then collapsed on the ground halfway between my property and hers. Tina came out and told me to back off. I chose to walk away and give her some breathing room. And here I am.”
Dad stands to his feet. At fifty-five, he's still a formidable force, and if you don't know him, you'd find him unapproachable and intimidating. He's only a couple of inches shorter than me and my brothers, but there's no question, he never put up with any of our nonsense or excuses growing up.
"We have to tell Beth,” he says, leaving no room for debate.
“We can talk to her in the morning,” Mom agrees.
“I’d like to be here,” I add. “She’s going to have questions. She’ll want to meet her. This is going to be a lot for her to digest. Do you think she’s ready?”
“She’s ready,” Mom says. “She knows we wanted to adopt her too. She knows we never forgot, and she knows we tried to find her over the years.”
"Not hard enough," I mutter.
“None of this is your fault,” Dad quickly adds.
"She changed her name," I murmur, the frustration inside me growing into a painful knot. "How were we supposed to know we should've been looking for Elle Keaton?"
I shake my head and run my fingers through my hair, desperation clawing at me.
“It’ll be okay, Son,” Dad says quietly, but even his voice carries a flicker of uncertainty. “It will all work out.”
I swallow hard. “I hope you’re right, Dad.” What I don’t say is the truth that burns in my chest, I’ve fallen in love with Elle. The thought of her not understanding what happened, not accepting the truth, not forgiving me—that terrifies me.