Chapter 2 #2
“We worked well together even back then,” June said. “We approached things differently, but the differences fit. He would spot what action needed to be taken. I would question why the action made sense or what detail had been overlooked. We sharpened each other.”
“Well, my mother never did that,” Rad said before he could decide not to. “She wasn’t interested in his work. She wasn’t interested in much that mattered to him, if I’m being honest.”
His jaw tightened.
“When did you last see your mother?” June asked.
“I haven’t seen her since she left,” Rad answered. “I was three at the time.”
“You haven’t heard from her since she left your father?” June gasped.
“Not a phone call. Not a birthday card. Not even a Christmas card sent out of obligation. I’m not sure she even knows she has a grandson.” Rad snorted. “But it’s fine. My father was always there, and so was my grandmother. Then there was Uncle Abe. So I had all the family I needed.”
June’s hand came to rest gently on his forearm. It was a small touch, warm and maternal and so entirely free of hesitation that it nearly undid him.
“I’m sorry, Rad,” she said quietly. “I truly can’t understand how any mother or grandmother could do that.”
“She was never very maternal,” Rad said.
The words felt strange in his mouth, not because they were untrue, but because he had never said them out loud to anyone before. Not like this. Not in a way that stripped the situation down to what it was without trying to dress it up with excuses.
A few houses slipped past. The headlights’ beam caught white fences, low palms, and neat driveways.
“I can’t even imagine just leaving my child,” June told him.
“I used to imagine I had a mother like you,” Rad said before he could stop himself.
The moment the words were out, he almost regretted them. Not because they were false, but because they were too honest.
He glanced at June.
Her eyes misted immediately, and the smile that touched her face was so soft it made his chest ache.
“I often wished for a second child, a son, and I would’ve been very proud if he had turned out like you.”
A lump rose in Rad’s throat so fast and hard that for a second he could not speak at all.
He gripped the steering wheel more tightly and looked straight ahead.
She really was remarkable.
He still could not quite understand how his father had let her go and then ended up with someone like his mother, Lillian Forester. Life made no sense sometimes. Or maybe people simply didn’t understand the value of what they had until it was no longer theirs.
“Why didn’t you have another child?” Rad asked, then winced immediately. “I’m sorry. That was too personal.”
June shook her head. “No. It’s all right.” She was quiet for a second. “My husband had an accident that left him unable to father children.”
Rad felt his stomach dip. “Now it’s my turn to say I’m sorry.”
“At least I had Willa. And later the grandchildren.” She gave him a small, accepting smile.
“She’s great,” Rad said. “I would have loved having someone like her as an older sister.”
The second the words left him, something flickered across June’s face.
It was there and gone too quickly for him to read properly. Surprise, maybe. Or pain. Or some emotion too layered to name in a passing glance.
Then it vanished.
“Yes,” June said, her voice warm again. “Willa is very special. I was lucky to be blessed with a daughter like her. She is my pride and joy, right alongside my grandchildren.”
“Do you think Willa will ever marry again?” Rad asked as he turned onto Lighthouse Lane.
“I hope so,” June said. “She is only thirty-seven.”
The number hit him strangely and rang like a bell in his head. Thirty-seven.
He kept driving, but something in the back of his mind started shifting pieces around without permission.
“So you remarried not long after you and my father divorced?” Rad asked.
June stared out the windshield.
“I was lonely,” June said at last. “And trying to build a life that felt steady again. Your father was my first great love, and after the divorce, I was also fighting to reclaim my father’s law firm from my uncle. Everything felt uncertain. Then Trevor was there, steady, kind, and patient.”
“What did he do for work?” Rad asked.
“He was an attorney with the U.S. Attorney’s Office in Miami,” June said. “He handled federal prosecutions. White-collar crime for a while, then later broader Department of Justice work.”
Rad nodded. That made sense. Smart, ambitious, respectable, grounded in the same city where June was trying to rebuild her life.
Rad drove the last stretch in silence.
The lighthouse cottage came into view ahead, pale in the moonlight, familiar and solid. He pulled into the drive and switched off the engine. For a second, neither of them moved.
Then he turned slightly toward her.
“Thank you for fetching me,” Rad said. “And for telling me what’s going on with the fires and the accidents you and my father are investigating. I think we need a meeting somewhere outside the police station, with everyone who is directly involved.”
“I agree,” June said at once. “Secrets and half-truths are causing harm now. They can cost lives, especially after what happened to Judy.”
“Yeah.” Rad unbuckled his seat belt. “We’re past the point where people can keep trying to protect each other by withholding things.”
They climbed out of the car.
The night seemed quieter here by the lighthouse. The beam swept its silent arc over the water while the yard sat in soft darkness. Rad rounded the hood, expecting a brief goodnight, but June surprised him by stepping forward and hugging him.
The embrace was warm and immediate, and it caught him so off guard that he stood still for a second before hugging her back.
“You are so much like your father,” June said as she drew away, “and that is a very good thing. I’m always here if you need someone to talk to or just to listen.”
“Thank you.” Rad swallowed hard. “I’d like that. You’re very easy to talk to.”
June’s smile widened, and she nodded.
And just like that, that impossible wish returned. For her to be his mother. For Tyler to have her as a grandmother. For some other version of life to have placed them all together years ago.
“Good night, June.” Rad gave her a slight nod and a wave. “Drive home safely.”
“I will,” June assured him. “Good night, Rad.”
She got back into the car, started the engine, and drove off down the lane.
Rad stood where he was, watching the taillights disappear into the darkness.
Their conversation echoed through his head in fragments.
We were married for four years.
We had not seen each other in roughly thirty-eight years.
Willa is only thirty-seven.
My husband had an accident that left him unable to father children.
I was lucky to be blessed with a daughter like Willa. Not “we” were lucky.
June had chosen her words carefully, it seemed, when talking about her marriage to her second husband.
He frowned as a rogue thought struck him, then shook it off and pushed the math that was not quite adding up out of his mind.
But as Rad stepped into the house and turned to look at the empty road for another moment, the numbers refused to leave him alone.
If his father and June had divorced roughly thirty-eight years ago, and Willa was only thirty-seven…
“Rad?” His grandmother’s voice drew him out of his thoughts, and he pushed them aside, turning toward her.