Chapter 14
Cal
Convincing Cedric to hand over the box wasn’t easy.
I had to promise I’d empty it, then return it sealed and just as heavy—its original contents swapped with blank paper so no one would suspect a thing.
I also swore I’d give Elle everything inside.
Since Meghan was promoted to Director last year, she’s at the office less often, which gave Cedric and me the perfect window to grab the box without anyone noticing.
I peel the packing tape back, slower than I need to. The cardboard gives with a reluctant sigh, like it knows what’s inside and wishes it could keep it hidden a little longer.
The first thing I see is a stack of construction paper—Izzy’s drawings, bright and chaotic, names and hearts scrawled in crayon. Beneath that: photos. Letters. Updates in my mom’s handwriting. All of it perfectly intact.
Not a single fold. Not a smudge. No evidence that any of it was ever taped or tacked to a wall or handled by anyone but me.
She never saw any of it.
Every time I handed something to Meghan—every time she smiled, nodded, told me Dani “needed space”—this is where it ended up. Sealed in a box. Buried in the attic like an afterthought.
My fingers trace the edge of a photo. Izzy, toothless and beaming, holds a glittery butterfly sticker in one hand and a five-dollar bill in the other. Her gift from the tooth fairy.
Dani wasn’t healing with reminders of Izzy. She was surviving without them.
And I let it happen.
After carefully filling the keepsake box I made for Elle with all the photos and the letter I wrote her all those years ago, I place the drawings and Mom's notes in a gift bag. Then I fill the original box with printer paper from my desk.
“This should do it,” I say aloud as I reseal the box.
The doorbell’s persistent ring annoys me at first—but then sets me on high alert.
Something’s wrong.
I swing the door open, expecting to see one of my brothers, or maybe Dad, but it’s Elle. And she’s furious. Her face is red and swollen with tears.
Without a single word, she swings her fist at me, but I catch it just in time, gripping her wrist like I’ve caught a hundred baseballs before.
“You monster!” she screams, tears streaming down her face.
“Elle,” I say, trying to keep my composure, my tone steady. “What’s wrong?”
“I hate you!” she screams, letting her fury loose. “I hate you!”
She pounds her fists against my chest, but I wrap my arms around her—not to restrain her, but to hold her. To comfort her.
But she’s not having it.
“Let go of me!” she screams. “I said, let go of me!”
I let her go and watch as her face twists into a storm of fury and heartbreak.
“Elle,” I begin, gently, “if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t help you.”
“I don’t need your help!” she shouts. “You stole my sister! You and Meghan Fletcher conspired to kidnap her and raise her in your family.”
“That’s not true,” I say, the pieces clicking into place—she just found out about Meghan. “Elle, I met Meghan when I went to the home to check on you.”
“Liar!” she yells. “You’re a liar. A thief. I can’t believe I trusted you. I hate you!”
“Elle,” I try once more, keeping my voice steady, “please—let’s sit down and talk about this.”
I reach for her, but she swats my hand away. “Don’t touch me!”
She’s so overcome that she has to lean back against the doorframe, struggling to catch her breath.
Then I catch a glimpse of Dani—the little girl I remember. So small. So scared. So fierce. Willing to do anything to protect her sister.
I fold my arms across my chest to keep from reaching for her again. My heart breaks, but I stay still, willing to absorb every ounce of pain she's carried all these years. Let her release it. Let her unleash the venom that’s been festering inside her—against me.
Go ahead, Dani. Cry. Scream. Say everything you’ve been holding in, just for me. Even if it cuts deep, I’m not moving from this spot until she’s done.
"You expect me to believe that you were so concerned about my well-being that, after I supposedly ran away, you didn’t lift a single finger to find me?"
She’s not wrong.
I should’ve asked more questions. Should’ve done my own digging. But I thought Meghan was exhausting every avenue to find her, working with the Hanover police department.
I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes. I was a new cop—questioning another jurisdiction’s protocols on runaways would’ve earned me a stern talking-to from my captain.
All of these thoughts sound like a bunch of excuses—even to me.
"I messed up," I say quietly. "I trusted Meghan."
"You didn’t mess up, Cal," she says with a sniff, but the sarcasm in her voice is razor-sharp. "You just didn’t care."
I swallow hard but don’t say a word. No matter what defense I try to offer, she’s already made up her mind. As far as she’s concerned, it’s all my fault.
"Why didn't you just let us go that day?" she asks, her voice small now, each word punctuated by a hiccup from crying.
I don’t tell her her grandfather didn’t want them. I don’t say I was just doing my job. I don’t point out that I wasn’t the only one there—that it was my partner’s call. I was a rookie. Even if I had wanted to, I couldn’t have made that decision.
She stares at the floor, unable to meet my eyes. When she finally pulls away from the doorframe, her gaze sweeps the room and lands on the wooden box on the coffee table.
“It’s the box I made you,” I begin, “for agreeing to watch Hannah so I can attend the conference.”
“I don’t want anything from you,” she snaps, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.
“I know,” I say quietly. “But it’s already finished. You should take it.”
“You really think I can just let this go?” she says, almost laughing—sharp, bitter.
“Here,” I say, picking up the box and gift bag from the table. “All of this belongs to you.”
“I don’t care that you’re Beth’s brother,” she says. “I never want to see you again. You hear me? Stay away from me. And tell your ex-wife that I'm not done with her yet.”
With that, she walks out the door, leaving me standing there—box and bag still in hand.