“What were they?”
“One was an eviction notice and condemnation of your grandmother’s house. The second was the directive to fire your mother from her job. The third…” I swallowed. “The third was a letter to child services saying your mother was abusive and unfit and Hayley and Emily needed to be removed from a condemned house and placed in foster care.”
Her eyes grew round.
“He had them all in his pocket, Sunny. The bank, the hotel, even social services. They were all false accusations, but they would have happened. He told me if I came with him, the directives would be destroyed. If not, your life—your entire family’s lives—would be shattered. He told me he would also shut the shelter and make sure your reputation became so tarnished, you would have to leave town anyway.” I sighed heavily. “I had no choice. I had to protect you. I thought I would somehow figure something out. I agreed right away.”
“You disappeared.”
I barked out a gruff laugh. “Yes, I did. He sent me to a school, a prison more like it, in Europe. I had no phone, no access to the outside world, no friends, and no way to get out. He isolated me.”
I got up to walk, because I couldn’t sit down. “He left me there for two years. He thought it would break me, but I fought back. I listened and learned. I worked out and built up my body so he couldn’t hurt me again.”
“You never contacted me.”
“I left you a note.”
She frowned. “It said you were sorry and to forget you. Your smashed cell phone and a piece of your cuff were all I had.”
He dug into his pocket, holding up the rest of the cuff I had given him. Well-worn and cracked, the clasp missing, all that was left, the tattered pieces of leather. “My father caught me writing the letter. I planned to put it under my pillow and take the phone so I could call you. The note said I was sorry, but to be patient and I would get to you somehow. I said I loved you and not to forget me or what we had shared. I wasn’t expecting the uppercut he hit me with, and I was out cold when he dragged me to the car. He obviously tore it up to suit his own agenda and smashed the phone.” He huffed. “When I came to, I was still in the car, en route to the airport. I was gone before the camp opened the next morning.”
“Oh, Linc,” she whispered.
“I tried to get in touch with you. I wrote you every day for three months. I finally figured out the letters weren’t reaching you, and I bribed another kid who had freer access than me to take my letters to town and send it. He had his return info on it, and it came back, saying Unknown-Moved.”
“Your father made it impossible for us to stay. He didn’t do any of the things he threatened, but he made life hard for my mom. She lost shifts and her work was called subpar in her file. Rumors were flying about how I had stalked you—even following you to the camp when you tried to get away from me. Emily and Hayley were being picked on. The whole town was talking about us.” She closed her eyes. “My mom’s cousin out east told us we could move there and he would help. We basically left everything behind unless it was sentimental and walked away. He had a place in a small town in the Maritimes, and we settled there. The girls went to school, Mom found a job, and I tried to pick up the pieces of my life. He even adopted us, and we took his last name—Hilbert.” A small smile crossed her face. “We called him Uncle Pete, and he loved that. We all needed the fresh start. You couldn’t find me because Uncle Pete had the records sealed in case your father looked for us.”
That explained why I couldn’t find her. “I changed my name too. I didn’t want anything of my father’s. I’m Lincoln Webber now.”
“It suits you.”
“It does. I’m my mother’s son. I want nothing of my father—including his name.”
Silence pulsed in the room until she spoke, her confession whispered into the air.
“I missed you every day.”
“My memories of you, of us, were what got me through it,” I admitted.
She lifted her head and pulled on a chain around her neck. The pendant I had given her, now dull, dangled from the necklace. I was shocked to see it, my heart bursting at the thought of what it meant. She had cared all this time. The same way I had cared for her.
“You still wear it?”
“I never took it off. It was the one thing I had that was still real. Well, that and this.” She pulled out a set of keys, held together with a strip of leather I recognized. I took them from her and touched the leather, thinking of her expression when I’d snapped the cuff onto my wrist, swearing never to take it off. Another promise I failed to keep because of that bastard.