Page 2

Chapter One

brYSON

M y eyes fluttered open, waking before my alarm. I sat up, throwing back the covers and peered out the window. The sun had yet to make its appearance, and a light snow was beginning to fall, dusting the sidewalks and the cars parked along the street.

I dressed in several layers and grabbed my keys before heading out the door. The air was brisk as I went through a routine of stretches, snowflakes landing on my face and catching in my eyelashes as I reached for the sky. Winters in Columbus, Ohio could be bitter, but I preferred the cold over the sweltering heat of summer.

With my Air pods in and my favorite playlist playing in my ears, I set out. I ran through my quiet neighborhood and down familiar streets, keeping to the route I’d mapped out when I’d first moved in.

As I rounded the corner onto Elm Street, my breath visible in puffs before me, I couldn't help but smile. This was my favorite part of the day—the quiet solitude before the world woke up, when it felt like the city belonged only to me.

Forty minutes later, I unlocked the door to my condo, kicking off my snow-dusted running shoes and lining them up neatly on the mat by the entrance. I hung my keys on their designated hook and made a beeline for the shower, eager to warm up.

My condo wasn't large, but it was mine, and I'd worked hard to make it feel like home. The living room was neat and tidy, with a plush gray couch facing a sleek TV mounted on the wall. Bookshelves lined one wall, filled with marketing texts and the occasional novel, all arranged by height and color.

In the kitchen, gleaming appliances stood ready for use, though I rarely cooked anything complicated since it was usually just dinner for one. The countertops were spotless, each item in its designated place. Even my fridge was organized with military precision, containers neatly labeled.

As I toweled off after my shower, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. At thirty-two, I was in the best shape of my life, thanks to my rigorous running routine. My light brown hair was still damp, and I ran a hand through it, noting I'd need a trim soon. Hazel eyes stared back at me, a mix of green and brown that always seemed to shift depending on what I wore.

I dressed quickly in dark slacks and a crisp blue button-down, then made my way to the kitchen where I prepared my usual breakfast of oatmeal with almonds, blueberries, and just a drizzle of honey. As I waited for my coffee to finish brewing, I scrolled through my emails and daily schedule, already feeling the familiar tug of work responsibilities. The aroma of fresh coffee filled the kitchen, and I poured myself a cup, adding just a splash of almond milk.

I settled at my small dining table with my breakfast, opening my laptop to review the day's agenda. As a digital marketing manager, my days were often packed with meetings, strategy sessions, and endless email threads. I loved the challenge of my job, the way it kept my mind engaged and my skills sharp. But lately, I'd been feeling a gnawing emptiness that even the most satisfying workday couldn't fill.

My eyes drifted to the empty chair across from me, and I felt a familiar pang of loneliness. I'd always imagined sharing my mornings with someone special, discussing our plans for the day over steaming mugs of coffee. But so far, I was still single. My dating life, a series of first dates that never seemed to lead anywhere.

I shook off the melancholy thoughts and focused on my breakfast. By the time I arrived at the office, I was in full professional mode, greeting my colleagues with a warm smile as I made my way to my private office.

“Morning, Bryson!” LuAnn called, her voice bright as she breezed by me in the corridor, files clutched in her arms like prized possessions.

“Hi, LuAnn. How's the Wilson campaign going?”

“Running smooth, thanks to your pointers,” she replied with a grin, and I felt that familiar flush of pride. Dependability might as well have been my middle name.

“Anytime,” I said, offering her a smile.

“Oh, hey! Everyone's raving about the SEO strategy you outlined. You've got the magic touch, Bryson,” Matt chimed in as I reached my office door, his hand raised in a casual high-five which I returned with practiced ease.

“Thanks, Matt. Just making sure we stay ahead of the curve,” I replied, the mantle of my responsibilities settling comfortably on my shoulders.

Settling into my chair, I powered up my computer and dove into the day's tasks, the familiar glow of the screen, a beacon of focus. The click-clack of keyboards and the low murmur of discussions formed a backdrop to my thoughts, a reminder that no matter how much I yearned for personal stability, I had already built a foundation of respect and success here among my peers. And for now, that would have to be enough.

The cursor blinked on the screen, a silent metronome to the rhythm of my thoughts as I scrutinized the latest campaign analytics. My role as digital marketing manager came with its own symphony of challenges—trends to follow, algorithms to decipher, and targets to surpass. Each project was like an intricate puzzle, and I relished fitting every piece into its rightful place with precision.

“Hey Bryson, how's the Henderson pitch coming along?” Jenna's voice cut through my concentration as she stood in the open doorway.

“Almost ready,” I said, minimizing the spreadsheets to meet her gaze. “I've been fine-tuning the audience segmentation. It should increase our conversion rates by a solid margin.”

“Sounds like you've got it covered, as always.” She offered an encouraging smile that reflected both appreciation and a hint of awe—a response I had grown accustomed to over time. “You know, you could run this place if you wanted to.”

I chuckled, shaking my head slightly. “Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'm content where I am, thanks.”

“Suit yourself. Just don’t work through your lunch again,” she added with a knowing look. “Even super employees like you need a break now and then.”

“I promise.” I gave her a mock salute and watched her stride away before returning my attention to the task at hand.

As the clock nudged toward noon, I saved my progress and locked the computer. Lunchtime meant a brief escape, a chance to breathe away from the figures and forecasts. I retrieved my phone from the drawer and dialed the familiar number. The phone rang twice before Brooke's smiling face filled the screen; her hair pulled back in a messy bun.

“Bryson! I'm so glad you called,” she said, her voice warm and familiar. “We were just thinking about you.”

“Hey, Brooke,” I replied, feeling my mood lift instantly. “How's my favorite family doing?”

“We're great! Zach's just getting Chloe ready. We're heading to the aquarium today.” She turned the phone, giving me a panoramic view of their cozy living room. “Zach! Bryson's on FaceTime!”

I heard Zach's muffled voice from off-screen, followed by the soft coos of a baby. My heart swelled with anticipation. “There she is!” I exclaimed as Zach came into view; little Chloe nestled in his arms. My goddaughter's chubby cheeks dimpled as she smiled, her tiny hand reaching out towards the screen.

“Say hi to Uncle Bryson,” Zach cooed, waving Chloe's hand.

I felt a lump form in my throat as I watched her, marveling at how much she'd grown since I'd last seen her. “Hi, sweetheart,” I said softly. “You're getting so big!”

“She misses her favorite uncle,” Brooke chimed in, leaning her head on Zach's shoulder. “When are you coming to visit again?”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Soon, I hope. Things have been crazy at work, but I'm trying to clear my schedule for next month. I miss you guys too.”

“We understand,” Zach said with a sympathetic nod. “Just don't work yourself too hard, okay? There's more to life than spreadsheets and marketing campaigns.”

I forced a laugh, but his words hit a little too close to home. “I know, I know. I'm trying to find that elusive work-life balance everyone talks about.”

“Any luck in the romance department?” Brooke asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I have a friend who?—”

“No setups, please,” I groaned, though I couldn't help but smile at her persistence. “I appreciate the thought, but I'm doing fine on my own.”

“If you say so,” she replied, unconvinced. “But remember, Bryson, you deserve someone special. Don't close yourself off to the possibility.”

I nodded, feeling a familiar mix of gratitude and unease at Brooke's well-intentioned concern. “I'll keep that in mind,” I said, forcing a smile. “Now, tell me more about this aquarium trip. Is Chloe excited to see the fish?”

As Brooke launched into an animated description of their plans, I felt a twinge of envy. Their little family seemed so complete, so full of joy and possibility. I pushed the feeling aside, focusing instead on Chloe's delighted squeals as Zach made fish faces at her.

“We should get going,” Brooke said eventually, glancing at her watch. “But we'll send you lots of pictures, okay?”

“Please do,” I replied, already looking forward to the flood of adorable snapshots I knew would fill my phone later. “Have a great time, guys. Love you all.” I waved goodbye to Chloe, the call ending with a soft chime that left a lingering silence in its wake.

For a moment, I allowed myself to bask in the afterglow of their happiness, a gentle reminder that there were things even more gratifying than a perfectly executed marketing strategy.

The silence in my office felt like a cavernous space after the laughter and chatter of Brooke, Zach, and Chloe had filled it. I swiveled back in my chair, staring at the clean lines of my desk, the way the pens lay parallel to each other, a silent testament to my need for order in a world that often felt too chaotic.

The reflection in my computer screen showed a man approaching his thirties, successful in his career, yet there was an absence of someone to share it all with. A partner's smile to greet me at the end of a long day, a shared laugh over some silly inside joke—these were the things that turned a house into a home.

Anxiety twisted in my gut, the fear that maybe I'd always be the one looking in from the outside, godfather but never father, uncle but never husband. It wasn't that I hadn't tried; dates had come and gone, leaving behind a trail of what-ifs and not-quites.

But the right person—the one who could navigate the intricacies of my structured world and love me for them—that person seemed like a mythical creature, as elusive as a unicorn. Shaking off my thoughts, I stood up and made my way to the break room in search of food.

After a quick salad, I was ready to plunge back into the flurry of my afternoon schedule. There was a sense of comfort in the predictable rhythm of it all, a cadence I knew by heart. My phone beeped and Jane, our receptionist’s voice came over the intercom, reminding me of my upcoming meeting. “Mr. Kelly, Mr. Adams is on line two.”

“Thanks, I’ve got it, Jane.”

“Mr. Kelly, so good to hear from you,” the client's voice filtered through the speakerphone, upbeat and expectant.

“Likewise, Mr. Adams. I've got some exciting ideas for the upcoming campaign that I can’t wait to share with you,” I said, slipping into the confident tone of a seasoned manager. The pitch flowed from me, years of experience distilled into persuasive points and strategic insights.

Afterwards, I dove into the sea of emails that waited for me. Each message was a problem to be solved, a deadline to be met, and I tackled them with a relentless focus that had become second nature. My hands were steady, my breathing even; this was the part of my life where I excelled, where control was mine to wield. The clock ticked away, hours passing in a blur of productivity until the office lights dimmed, and the hum of computers grew fainter.

Stepping out of the office building, the cool evening breeze was a gentle reminder that life existed beyond spreadsheets and strategy meetings. “Another day down,” I murmured to myself, staring at the orange streaks painted across the dusky sky as I strolled across the parking lot and climbed in my car.

It was in these quiet moments of solitude that my mind would wander to the corners of my life still untouched by success or certainty—love, companionship, the dream of a family. I longed for arms that would hold me without reservation, eyes that would see past the facade of composure I wore so well.

“Is he out there?” The question drifted through my mind as I drove home, stirring a restlessness deep within. Unlocking the door to my condo, the familiar scent of lemon-scented polish and fabric softener greeted me, a testament to my most recent cleaning spree. I slipped off my shoes, aligning them perfectly beside the others.

Making my way to the kitchen, I began the soothing ritual of preparing dinner. The vegetables were chopped with precision, each slice uniform. The sizzle of the stir-fry filled the room, and I found comfort in the rhythmic activity.

After dinner, I changed into a pair of sleep pants and a comfortable T-shirt then stretched out on the living room couch to read. My favorite author had just released a new book, and I was dying to get into it. But an hour later, I could hardly keep my eyes open.

Yawning, I went through my nightly ritual, locking doors, turning off lights, and brushing my teeth. I sighed sleepily when I finally slipped between the covers of my bed, barely remembering to set my alarm before my eyes drifted shut.

The shrill ring of my phone jarred me from a deep sleep. I fumbled in the dark, the blue light of the screen seeming overly bright to my sensitive eyes. I checked the time. 1:00 AM. The caller ID flashed unknown, yet something in the pit of my stomach clenched with dread.

“Hello?” My voice was groggy.

“Hello. I’m trying to reach a Mr. Bryson Kelly.” The voice on the other end was crisp, official, and it sent a chill down my spine.

“Speaking.” I sat up, suddenly alert, heart pounding in my chest as if preempting the blow.

“This is Officer Daniels with the Lakeside Ridge Police Department. I'm afraid there's been an accident.”

The words hit like a physical force, leaving me breathless. “An accident? Who?—”

“A Mr. Zach Murphy and Mrs. Brooklyn Murphy,” he said, and the room seemed to spin. “Your name and number were listed as an emergency contact in Mrs. Murphy’s phone. Could you please state your relationship to the two of them?”

“They’re my best friends. My family,” I said around the lump in my throat. “Are they—” I couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't give voice to the fear that clawed at my throat.

The officer's voice softened, a hint of compassion breaking through the professional veneer. “I'm sorry, Mr. Kelly. They... they didn't survive the accident.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. I felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room, leaving me gasping. My mind reeled, unable to process the information. Brooke and Zach were gone? It seemed impossible, cruel, a cosmic joke that couldn't possibly be real.

“No,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “There must be some mistake. I just spoke to them around lunch time. They were going to the aquarium...”

“I'm truly sorry, sir,” Officer Daniels said, his tone gentle but firm. “The accident occurred on their way home. A drunk driver crossed the center line and hit them head-on.”

I felt like I was drowning, the officer's words washing over me in waves I couldn't comprehend. My mind raced, grasping at straws, desperate for this to be some cruel mistake. I closed my eyes, feeling tears begin to form.

“Mr. Kelly?” Officer Daniels' voice pulled me back from the edge of despair. “Are you still there?”

I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice. “Yes,” I managed to croak out. “I'm here.”

“I know this is difficult, but there's something else you need to know,” he said, hesitation clear in his tone. “Their daughter... she was in the car with them.”

My heart lurched. Chloe. My goddaughter. The image of her chubby cheeks and bright smile from our FaceTime call flashed through my mind, bringing a fresh wave of pain. “Chloe,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Is she okay?”

“She's been taken to Children’s Hospital of Michigan in Detroit,” Officer Daniels explained. “Fortunately, her car seat took the brunt of the impact. The doctors say she’ll be just fine, but they want her to stay overnight for observation. I understand this is a lot to process, but we need someone to come to the hospital. Are you able to…”

“Yes,” I interrupted, already swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “Yes, I'll come right away. I'll be there as soon as I can.”