33. Felicity
FELICITY
Icouldn’t breathe.
Not fully.
Not after:
Somebody you trust.
The words still hung in the tavern like smoke.
Thunder rolled again outside.
Closer now.
The storm pressing against Eagle River felt almost alive.
Nobody moved for a long second.
Then Trigger finally broke the silence.
“Oh, I’m gonna need names.”
Vaughn laughed weakly through blood.
“You think I know all the players?”
“Careful,” Wolf said calmly. “You’re running low on teeth.”
Honestly?
That one almost made me laugh.
Almost.
But my stomach twisted too hard for humor tonight.
Because suddenly memories kept surfacing.
Little things.
Tiny things I’d ignored after my father died.
My chest tightened.
Oh God.
“Hersh.”
The second I spoke, his attention snapped back to me immediately.
His attention snapped to me instantly.
Like it always did.
“What?”
I swallowed hard.
“My father…”
Concern crossed his face instantly.
“What about him?”
I looked down at my shaking hands.
“He started acting strange before he died.”
The tavern quieted again.
Even Vaughn stopped smiling.
Two years ago, I thought grief and stress had changed my father.
Now?
I wasn’t so sure anymore.
“I visited him a few times before he died. He kept checking the locks,” I whispered. “All the time.”
Tate frowned slightly.
“How often?”
“Every night.”
I wrapped my arms tighter around myself.
“He stopped sleeping much. He’d look out the windows constantly.” My throat tightened harder. “Sometimes he’d pull the curtains closed if unfamiliar cars drove by.”
Wolf and Trigger exchanged a look.
Not a good one.
Ava stepped closer carefully. “Did he ever say why?”
I shook my head.
“No. But…” My voice faltered. “A few weeks before he died, he asked if I still talked about Hersh to anyone.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Beside me, Hersh went completely still.
My heart cracked quietly at the expression on his face.
Not anger.
Not ego.
Just confusion.
Like he still couldn’t understand why my father feared him so much.
“He knew something,” Wolf said quietly.
“Or suspected something,” Ava added.
Trigger dragged a hand through his hair.
“This keeps getting uglier.”
Yes.
It really did.
I stared at the floorboards as another memory surfaced suddenly.
Sharp enough to make my breath catch.
“Oh, my God.”
Hersh stepped closer instantly.
“What?”
“I thought he was trying to apologize.”
My voice sounded distant now.
Like I was standing back inside that house again.
“Three days before he died, he came into my room holding a box.”
Hersh’s breathing changed beside me.
I felt it.
“He looked…” My throat tightened painfully. “God, he looked exhausted.”
The tavern had gone completely silent now.
“He told me there were things he should’ve done differently.” Tears burned instantly behind my eyes. “I thought he meant my mother. Or how hard he’d been after she died.”
“Felicity,” Ava whispered softly.
But I barely heard her.
Because now the memory kept unfolding.
Piece by piece.
“He almost gave me the box.”
Hersh closed his eyes briefly.
Just once.
Pain flashed across his face so fast it nearly broke me.
“But then he heard a car outside.”
Tate straightened instantly.
“What kind of car?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I didn’t really look.”
Wolf muttered a curse under his breath.
My pulse started pounding harder.
“He panicked.”
The words barely came out.
“He shoved the box behind his closet and told me to stay away from the windows.”
Nobody in the room spoke.
Not even Vaughn now.
Because suddenly this wasn’t a theory anymore.
This was fear.
Real fear.
And deep down…
I think everybody in the tavern realized the same thing at the exact same time.
My father hadn’t been hiding from Hersh anymore.
He’d been hiding from someone else.
“Hersh…” I whispered shakily.
His eyes met mine immediately.
Gentle despite the storm building behind them.
“Yeah, baby?”
The endearment nearly shattered me.
“I found your letters in that box.”