Brielle’s POV
The road narrowed into gravel, then into dirt. Trees grew thicker, clustering in tall, watchful rows as if they too were waiting for the truth. I gripped the steering wheel tight, my knuckles pale against the black leather. Beside me, Fiona was dead silent. Her usual sarcasm, her sharp little jabs—gone. Replaced by something heavier. The kind of silence that lives in the back of a church or inside hospital walls. The kind of silence that knows how to grieve.
I didn’t speak either. There was too much pressing on my chest, too many thoughts clawing for space in my head. I was finally going to see my real father. A man I’d never met. A man whose voice cracked like mine when he was scared. Who sounded like a ghost over the phone but promised something I never thought I’d have a
