I climb into the rented Jeep and drive to a small fishing village in Alaska, about as far away from Miami as I could get. No one will find me here unless I want them to.
Enzo, please come find me.
I wipe the tears away as I drive. I have to focus on the road.
The road takes me up a curved road into the mountains. I’m afraid I got t
he address wrong, but then I see the house at the end of the road and pull into the drive.
I don’t know why I’m here. This should be the last place I went. But it’s also the last place anyone would ever think to look for me.
I park the car and step out, the beep of the car horn locking, alerting the man inside to my presence.
He stands at the door as I walk up the gravel sidewalk.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“I need answers. I need somewhere safe to go. And for some stupid reason, I thought my father might be able to help me,” I say, with a glare.
He stands at the door, and for a moment, I don’t think he’s going to let me inside. But then he steps aside, holding the door open for me as I step inside the small mountain home.
My father walks into the kitchen and pours two cups of coffee. He hands one to me and then walks out onto the back porch. I follow. There are two rocking chairs looking out at the mountains.
It seems like I did my father a favor by firing him. He has a nicer home and life here than he did in Miami.
“I’m sorry for what I did to you, Kai. You have no idea how sorry. At the time, I thought I was preparing you for this life. I couldn’t spend every day of your childhood abusing and torturing you like Enzo’s father did, but I could prepare you once you were adult. So that’s what I did,” he says, and I see genuine tears in his eyes.
It should move me, but it doesn’t. I’m stone. His tears mean nothing to me.
“I didn’t come here for an apology,” I say coldly.
He nods. “You came here for answers.”
I nod.
“He’s alive.”
“What?” I sit up in my chair.
“Enzo’s alive.”
“How do you know that?”
“Clifton—he and I were friends before you fired me. He’s kept me up to date. Enzo is alive.”
I exhale and sob into my hands. He’s alive.
“But that doesn’t mean you are.”
“What do you mean? Of course, I’m alive. I’m not a ghost,” I say, not understanding.
“Enzo thinks you’re dead. And I haven’t corrected Clifton.”
“Why not? Tell him I’m alive!”
“No.”
I growl. I’ve been pissed at my father before, but nothing like how I feel now. “Do you understand what kind of pain Enzo must be in, thinking I’m dead? Call Clifton right now and tell him to tell Enzo I’m alive!”