My legs feel weak.
"We should go," Nick says gently. "You'll miss your flight."
I nod, but I can't quite make myself move.
"Actually," Nick says after a moment, "there's something I want to show you first. Before we head to the airport."
We drive in silence through Eden, but instead of heading toward the highway, Nick turns toward South Eden. The part of town that used to be rough, forgotten, the place where Scott Sullivan's greed had left scars that seemed permanent.
He pulls up in front of a building that takes my breath away.
It's beautiful—modern but warm, with large windows that let in natural light and wood accents that make it feel welcoming rather than institutional.
Outside, there are people gathered. Teenagers shooting hoops on a pristine basketball court. Little kids running around a playground with equipment that looks brand new. Adults sitting on benches, talking, laughing.
The building itself is massive but doesn't feel imposing. There's a warmth to it, a sense of being designed with actual care for the people who would use it.
"What is this place?" I ask, staring.
My pulse quickens.
Nick doesn't answer immediately.
He just points.
I hadn’t noticed the sign when we pulled up.
Carved in beautiful letters across the entrance:
David and Jacob's Centre
The air leaves my lungs.
"People around town call it the DJC," Nick says quietly. "It's got everything—basketball courts, art studios, music rooms, a computer lab, meeting spaces, after-school programs, job training, addiction recovery support groups. Everything this community needed and never had."
I can't speak. Can't breathe.
My hands are shaking so badly I have to press them against my thighs.
David.
My dad.
Jacob.
Jake.
"Nate built this?" I manage.
My voice cracks on his name.
"With Scott's money, yeah. But it was Nate's vision. Nate's design. Nate who spent two years working with architects andcommunity leaders to figure out exactly what South Eden needed." Nick pauses. "He named it after the two men who taught him what it meant to be good. To care about something bigger than yourself."
Tears are streaming down my face now, hot and fast and unstoppable.
My chest heaves with sobs I can't control.
My dad.
