I go on about the four sisters who were miscarried before my time and the way my father never looked at me. Jordan comes up, as does Duke. I bare it all. My heart and soul and all the shattered pieces in between.
When I finish the chapter, I hesitate a moment before finding Merrick’s wide-eyed gaze. He’s staring at me with so much hope and promise, I almost can’t bear the weight of it.
“Thank you.” He reaches across the table and stops short of taking my hand.
I so want to take that final leap, to close the distance and tangle our fingers. To remember the taste of his lips on mine and drink in his summer scent and finally believe he’s real.
A true Prince who puts all fairy-tale charmers to shame.
My hands fidget in my lap. Then my phone alarm blares “Hedwig’s Theme,” making us both jump and drawing stares from the other customers I hadn’t even noticed until now. Spell broken. Moment gone.
“Time to go?”
“I have to meet Mee-Maw.”
He slides out of the booth and rises.
I gather my things and shoulder my bag as he walks me out into the autumn sunshine.
I have to head right. He needs to go left.
Merrick has one foot off the curb and one hand in his pocket when he says, “I need to tell you something.”
Anything. Everything. Always. “Okay,” I say in the most casual tone I can rally.
“I’ve been holding on to this.” He withdraws a piece of jewelry from his pocket.
The sight stings. My pearls stare back at me. The old Brooke wants to grasp for an accusation. Instead, I ask, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I reach for the bracelet.
“This was your sister’s.”
I nod.
“You’ve never told me her name.”
Haven’t I? “River,” I say for the first time in ages. The way my father and Jordan refused to talk about her felt wrong. So I say it again. Louder. “Her name was River.” She was real. She existed.
And her story needs to be told.
“Pretty. But I’m partial to water names that start with B.”
His wink is all that’s needed to send flames up my neck and cheeks.
The emotions I used to dread blossom. I don’t push them away this time.
“These were so important to you. Why did Maya have them?”
“I gave them to her for her last birthday. She needed them more than I did.” The heavy truth of it slices a fresh wound.
“She’d want you to have them back. But I’d like to hold on to them a little while longer. Is that all right?”
I sigh. Trust him with one more piece of my soul. “Of course.”
With a final signature grin that’s all Merrick, he crosses the street. First River’s and then Hope’s bracelet remains clutched in his right hand as he waves.
It’s a common gesture but one that promises another tomorrow.
A good-bye that says this isn’t forever, and I’ll see him again sooner than I’d hoped.
Forty-Seven
Merrick Prince
Merrick held fast to the pearl bracelet. The last piece of the puzzle.
All he had to do was take it to the jeweler his dad had contacted. If the guy could trace the original maker, Merrick would find the man who had broken River’s heart. He had no clue what Brooke might do with the information. Confront the dude? Tell him off?
Or perhaps it wasn’t as complicated as all that. Maybe knowing would be good enough, help her move on. Give her the last bit of closure she needed for River’s story to be complete.
He hopped inside the two-year-old black Toyota Corolla his dad had loaned him. It had Bluetooth capability, keyless entry and start, and even a built-in GPS. It may not have been a Tesla—which Hiroshi Prince could totally afford—but Merrick wasn’t complaining. He had a car. No chauffeur to wait on or waiting on him. Just him and the wheel and the open road.
The leather seats smelled of freedom.
With a good three-hour drive north ahead of him—if he didn’t run into traffic—Merrick set his music library to shuffle and relaxed low in the driver’s seat. When he pulled onto the curving Coast Highway with nothing but the ocean to his left and billion-dollar homes to his right, a sense of peace he hadn’t experienced in years settled in and made itself at home.
“So this is what it feels like not to hate Dad,” he said to his reflection in the rearview mirror. To the empty passenger seat.
All these years. All those hours clenching his fists, ready to take a swing the second his father dared to get physical. Merrick had spent so much time expecting the man to prove him right, he’d never faced the truth.
Hiro was rough around the edges, sure. But he wasn’t the bad guy Merrick had often made him out to be.
The sun passed over the car’s roof and blared through the driver-side window. Merrick adjusted his visor and donned his sunglasses. The rock song that had been playing faded out and a new one faded in.
He stiffened. He’d forgotten this song was on here. Tempted to skip to the next in line, his finger hovered over the stereo controls.
But as the lyrics played on, the singer’s voice disappeared and a different voice filled his mind.
This was Amaya’s song. Or one of them, anyway. Merrick could almost imagine she sat cross-legged in the seat beside him, singing at the top of her lungs without a care or worry in the world. His memories transported him to this time last autumn.
When they’d sat on their family room couch.
And for about two-point-five seconds, everything seemed normal again.
“Are you going after her or not?”
Amaya sat cross-legged on the couch. An old Sorry! game board rested on the cushion between them. It was missing a few pieces, but the game worked well enough. “Sorry.” She slid her yellow piece into Merrick’s red one and grinned.
He placed the pawn back home and looked around.
Since the summer ended and Merrick’s sister had gained another chance at life, again, everything changed between them. At home with their dad plus a new therapy and medication regimen, Amaya was herself again. She was eating. The color had returned to her cheeks and she didn’t snap at Merrick between syllables.
“Have you heard from Brooke at all?”
Merrick drew a card, then moved a few spaces forward. “She doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Yes she does.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“She doesn’t have to, big brother.”
“Would you stop already?”
Maya took her turn, moving another one of her pawns inside the safety zone. She only had one left on the board that could be sent home.
He grunted. His sister—the board game queen. Even games like this one that required no strategy whatsoever. He’d never beat her. The only reason he’d agreed to play was to make her happy.
“What about a letter?” She stretched both arms above her head and yawned. “You could write to her. Girls love that.”
He laughed. If only everything could be as simple as it seemed in a Disney movie. “It’s more complicated than that. It wasn’t our time.”
Amaya took a sip of her cocoa and glanced at her phone.
Merrick eyed her. “You’re staying off social media, right?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Dad. I know the rules. Our actual dad password-protected those apps so I can’t even get into them. And that new tech his team created to monitor all devices in the house basically means I can’t do anything online without his approval.”