Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 45996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Brooke shrugs and sips her drink. "He keeps his personal life private. No wife that anyone has met. Some people say he was married once a long time ago but it ended badly. He has money from old investments or something. The restaurant is his new toy. He comes in most afternoons to check on things."
I’m about to ask a follow-up when movement inside catches my eye. Melissa’s still at the bar but she has turned, pointing toward the back of the restaurant. Brooke follows her gaze and her face lights up.
"Oh, speak of the devil," Brooke says, lifting her chin. "There he is over there by the window. The older man in the blue shirt talking to the manager."
I turn.
The world narrows to a single point.
The man standing near the large window overlooking the docks has his back mostly to us, but he shifts slightly as the manager gestures toward something on a tablet. Salt-and-pepper hair. Broad shoulders that haven’t stooped with age. The way he stands with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a glass, thumb tapping the rim in a rhythm I’ve seen a thousand times in old videos and faded photos.
Every muscle in my body goes taut.
I know that profile. I know the line of that jaw, the set of those shoulders. I spent my whole life looking for echoes of it in my own mirror and in my brothers' faces.
It’s my father.
Victor isn’t some local businessman with secrets.
It’s him.
He’s alive. He’s here. In Sunbreak Harbor. Running a restaurant as if he never faked his own death, as if my brothers and I haven’t been tearing apart every lead for months trying to find him.
The sound of the marina fades. The laughter from the table, the clink of ice in glasses, the distant music, all of it goes muffled like I’m underwater. My hand tightens on Sadie's waist without meaning to. She glances up at me, concern flickering across her face, but I can’t look away from the man by the window.
He turns a fraction more. Enough for me to see the familiar profile in full. The same eyes. The same mouth that used to laugh at our terrible jokes when we were kids.
Everything I thought I knew about this assignment, about the search, about why we’re really here, cracked wide open.
And Sadie’s still pressed against my side, warm and real and completely unaware that the man we’ve been asking about all afternoon is the ghost I’ve been chasing for months.
12
Sadie
I feel Jace stiffen beside me the second Brooke points toward the window. His whole body goes rigid under my arm, muscles locking like he’s been hit. One second he’s the easy charming man who’s been keeping his hand on my waist all afternoon, and the next he’s something else entirely. Hard. Still. Focused on the older man in the blue shirt.
My first instinct is to protect him the way he’s been protecting me. I turn slightly, press my palm flat against his chest right over his heart. The fabric of his shirt is warm from the sun and the solid beat underneath is fast, too fast. I tilt my head up and keep my voice quiet so the women don’t hear.
"Jace? Is everything okay?"
He doesn’t answer at first. His eyes stay locked on the man by the window. Then he leans down, close enough that his breath brushes the shell of my ear when he whispers. The words are so quiet only I can hear them.
"Victor’s my father."
Whoa. I blink, trying to make sense of it. The man we’ve been asking about all day, the one with rumors and money and a new restaurant, is Jace's missing father. The one he and his brothers have been searching for.
Before I can respond, the older man turns and walks toward the back exit. He doesn’t look our way. He moves with purpose, phone already at his ear, and disappears through a side door that leads to the private dock area.
Jace's hand tightens on my waist once, hard, then he’s moving. "We have to go. Now."
I grab my bag without thinking. "Brooke, Melissa, we have to run. Family emergency. Thank you for today."
They look confused but nod. Melissa is still half focused on the bartender anyway. We’re out the door and onto the boardwalk before they can ask questions. The sun’s bright on the water, yachts rocking gently in their slips, the sound of rigging clinking in the breeze. Jace keeps me close as we hurry toward the parking lot, his stride long and urgent. I have to jog a little to keep up, but I don’t complain. His face is pale beneath the tan, his eyes scanning every car and boat with a desperation he can’t hide.
We reach the Jeep. He opens my door, practically lifts me in, then rounds to the driver side so fast the tires crunch on gravel when he starts the engine. We pull out of the lot and onto the road that curves away from the marina. Victor's car, a sleek black sedan, is already turning onto the main road ahead of us. By the time we reach the intersection it’s gone, swallowed by traffic. Jace slams a hand on the steering wheel once, the sound sharp in the small space.