Chapter 7

EDEN'S POV

I should be thinking about Janice. Maybe even Chloe. Instead, my thoughts keep returning to the boy, Jack.

I stare at the report open on my desk for nearly a full minute before realizing I haven't read a single word.

My eyes are moving but my brain isn't. Instead, I see a small kid standing in a school uniform talking about dinosaurs like they personally know him.

I close the file and immediately open another one. Three pages later, I'm thinking about Jack again.

A knock sounds against the office door. "Come in." Richard walks inside carrying a tablet and one look at my face is apparently enough. "You look distracted."

"I'm not." He snorts. "That's the most distracted you've looked in years." I lean back in my chair. "Do you have a reason for being here?"

"Besides protecting the company from whatever existential crisis you're having?"

"I'm not having a crisis." He sits on the chair across from me and he doesn't leave.

Richard has known me too long, long enough to recognize things I don't say and things I'd rather ignore.

His eyes narrow slightly. "It's the chef."

"No."

"The kid?" I say nothing, that answers the question. Richard sighs. "So it’s the kid." I rub a hand across my jaw. "You're imagining things." His gaze sharpens. "You've spent the last two days finding reasons to visit a kitchen that runs perfectly well without you."

I don't respond because he's not entirely wrong and that doesn't mean I have an explanation.

Richard watches me carefully then says quietly, "Be careful." I look up. "About what?"

"Whatever this is becoming." The room goes silent, I hate when he's right even more when I don't know if he's right.

Because I don't understand what's happening myself. I barely know Janice, I definitely don't know her son yet somehow both of them keep finding their way into my head.

After Richard leaves, I try working again. The attempt lasts approximately seven minutes then I give up.

The city glows outside the office windows as evening settles across. Outside the window, the city keeps moving, lights turning on, traffic flowing, people heading somewhere, but my thoughts stay trapped in the same place.

Instead, my thoughts wander back to Chloe, not to how it ended, but to how it began, to the good memories that existed before grief turned everything else into background noise.

I remember her standing barefoot in my apartment kitchen wearing one of my shirts while she cooked terribly. She couldn't follow a recipe to save her life.

Every meal became an adventure or  a disaster. I remember laughing while smoke filled the apartment after she nearly burned dinner.

Remember her throwing a kitchen towel at my head, arguing about movies, taking late-night walks.

We made plans for marriage, children, and a future we thought would always be there, a future we never got.

The memory lands harder than it should because it doesn’t stop at Chloe, it carries everything that came after with it, the betrayal, confusion, and the lies.

For years I convinced myself anger mattered more than loss, maybe it didn't, maybe losing Chloe was always the part that hurt most.

I stare out the window for a long moment then stand abruptly enough as I need air. The parking lot behind the hotel is mostly empty when I step outside.

The sky is dark, clouds gather overhead. A storm is coming and wind pushes through the lot while distant thunder rumbles somewhere beyond the city skyline.

I walk without any real destination, just movement, distance from my office then something catches my eye.

A small notebook lying beside a curb probably dropped by a guest or a staff member.

I almost ignore it, instead I bend down and pick it up. The cover is covered in stickers, dinosaurs, stars and cartoon rockets.

A child's notebook, I already know who it belongs to before I open it, Jack. I don't know how but I  just do and the first page confirms it. 

*JACK SOTO* Written in large uneven letters, I should probably hand it to security instead I turn the page.

Every page seems to contain another dinosaur, squeezed between crayon drawings, school exercises, and messy handwriting until I find myself smiling despite myself because the kid is obviously obsessed with dinosaurs.

The storm finally breaks overhead, rain scattering across the pavement, yet my eyes remain locked on the drawing of a little boy standing between a woman and a man, holding their hands as though they are a family.

My eyes linger on the drawing. I can’t explain what’s bothering me, but every page seems to contain the same three people, the boy, the woman, and a tall dark-haired man with a serious expression that somehow looks familiar even in crayon.

The longer I look at the drawing, the harder it becomes to explain away the resemblance, and I find myself studying details I shouldn’t even be noticing.

Rain drums steadily against the pavement while I turn one page after another until I reach the last sheet, and the sight of it empties my mind completely.

Two messy words written in blue crayon. *MY DAD* Underneath them sits another drawing.

The drawing shows the same man again, and this time I can’t ignore it because the eyes staring back at me look far too familiar, and Jack’s smile, his age, Janice pulling him away, her reaction whenever he’s mentioned, the missing father, the photograph, and every unanswered question collide at once.

My pulse pounds harder. No, that's ridiculous, impossible. Completely impossible yet the thought refuses to leave.

A voice breaks through the storm. "What happened?" I look up. Richard stands a few feet away holding an umbrella.

I hadn't even heard him approach, for a second I consider saying nothing then I hand him the notebook without a word.

Richard takes it and looks down, then turns a page then another. His expression changes immediately, the amusement disappears and the color drains slightly from his face. 

Slowly he lifts his head and looks at me, looks back at the drawing then back at me again. Silence stretches between us, thunder rolls overhead and rain pours around us. Finally Richard exhales. "Jesus Christ."