Page 91 of Finding Denver

“Holly,” I say softly, and she lies onto her back to look at me. “Uncle Ronan is here to pick you up.”

She looks at Denver. “I hope your brain gets quiet.”

“Thank you.” Holly hops off the bed and darts by me, and Denver gives me a small smile as I approach the bed. “Hi.”

“Hey.” I sit beside her. “How are you feeling?”

She wets her lips. “Tired. Which makes no sense because I’m pretty sure I haven’t moved in days.” She runs a hand through her hair. “Where are we?”

“Finn and Helena’s.”

She groans. “They must think I’m so pathetic.”

“Not even close.”

Her eyes shine with fresh tears, and her lips whiten as she bites them. “Did I dream it?”

I wish I could say yes. I wish I could take all this away from her because no one deserves this. No one.

“No, you didn’t.” My tone is gentle, but it does nothing to stop the tears from falling free. She looks at the ceiling, covering her eyes, her lips trembling. “I’m so sorry, Denver.”

She nods quickly and wipes her tears. “I need to find him.”

I’ve pondered this since speaking with Alistair. I have no idea how she’ll react seeing Theo for the first time. It could make her worse. It could be her closure. I’m terrified for her, but all I can do is follow Finn’s advice and let her take the lead.

“I’ve already found him. The plane is ready whenever you are. We can go right now, if you want.” I take her hand, and she meets my eye. “Or you can wait. Or not go at all. It’s totally up to you.”

It’s an impossible choice. She’ll hurt either way. But barely a minute passes before she says, “I want to see him.”

It’sevening in the suburban street. In the quiet row of homes, a child laughs, and a car passes at the speed limit. Lawns are manicured, and minivans sit in clean driveways.

Denver sits beside me in jeans and a sweatshirt, one leg tucked beneath her. She’s expressionless as she gazes through the gap in the front seats and through thewindscreen. Her hair is tied back, and she’s totally still, the only movement the reflection of the streetlights in the tears that cling to her lashes.

Lewis and Taf are in the car behind us. Two other men are in the car in front.

Theo’s home is across the street.

“Whenever you’re ready,” I say.

She nods, and we wait.

We pass the hours in silence. Denver doesn’t move, and neither do I. The sun rises, pretty colors across a soft blue sky, but we still don’t move. I ask Denver if she’s hungry. She shakes her head. All she does is stare at Theo’s home, and I wait beside her.

I can’t imagine how agonizing this choice is. To see the child that she thought was gone, to accept an entire new reality, while also accepting that the person who was supposed to love her most was the one who caused this pain. Ranger has stolen so much more from her than years, now. He’s stolen more than letters, a life with the McEwans, her business and her freedom.

He stole her child.

A door closes, and I must have fallen asleep, because I open my eyes. Denver is sitting up, still focused on the window, her breathing fast.

A woman is leaving the house. She’s laughing, her dark hair swept into a bun, and a bag is slung over her shoulder.

A toddler is in her arms.

Denver is out of the car before I can stop her. She strides across the street. I follow, but I’m not fast enough. Denver stops before Theo’s mom, says something and reaches her arms out, and the mother twists away, her face horrified.

“Please—” Denver says as I get closer. “Theo, baby, it’s me.It’s Mommy. It’s?—”

“Denver.” I take her hand, but she snatches it away.