Peter POV
I haven't been in my father's study since he died.
Thirteen years. The door has remained closed, my mother's silent shrine to a man she couldn't save. Now I'm standing in front of it, hand on the knob, heart pounding.
Lara-Jean is beside me. Her hand covers mine.
"You don't have to do this alone."
"I know." I turn to her. "But I need to do it. I need to know who he really was."
She nods. Steps back. "I'll be right here. Whenever you need me."
I open the door.
The study smells like him—old books, leather, the faint trace of the cigars he smoked on special occasions. Everything is preserved exactly as he left it. His desk. His chair. The photographs on the wall.
I cross to the desk. Sit in his chair. For a moment, I'm seventeen again, waiting for him to come home.
He nev
