But suddenly I barely heard any of it.
Because Hersh looked wrecked.
Like he’d been carrying something heavy for a very long time.
“I called your house once,” he admitted quietly.
My chest tightened.
“What?”
“About six months after I left town.”
Oh Lord.
“The man who answered said you were married.” His jaw flexed hard. “Told me to stay away from you forever.”
Dad.
Tears burned instantly behind my eyes.
“He lied to you too.”
Hersh laughed once softly.
No humor in it.
“I figured that out eventually.”
“Then why didn’t you come back?”
The question slipped out before I could stop it.
Years of hurt buried inside it.
Years of wondering why he disappeared from my life so easily.
Hersh looked at me like the answer hurt him too.
“Because two weeks later,” he said quietly, “someone broke into my apartment in San Diego.”
The entire barn went silent again.
Even Rook looked up sharply.
Hersh’s eyes never left mine.
“They searched everything.” His voice lowered. “And they left one thing behind.”
Fear curled through me.
“What?”
He reached into his jacket slowly.
Then pulled out an old folded photograph.
Rain-stained.
