I run my hand along the row, unhurried, looking for something heavier. My fingers brush over familiar fabrics, seams, and sleeves.
Near the end, I find it.
A jacket, heavier than the rest. Dark, a little stiff—the kind you’d wear on deck when the temperature drops.
I pull it free and slip it on. It’s a little big through the shoulders, but it fits well enough.
I fasten it, and the warmth settles in quickly.
My hands slip into the pockets. The left is empty. The right catches on something.
Small. Solid.
I go still for a second before pulling it free.
A small wrapped box rests in my hand, ribbon tied carefully around it, a card tucked underneath.
The paper’s softened at the edges but still intact. The seal hasn’t been broken. The ribbon—pink and blue—is faded but clear, the bow still neatly tied, like it’s been waiting for the right moment.
I turn it over and recognize my mother’s handwriting.
For Mitchell.
A gift. Saved for a moment that never happened.
I stand there for a second holding it, thinking about that. It’s just… sad… in this quiet, awful way that sneaks up on you before you can stop it.
I head back toward the cabin with the box still in my hand.
Dane looks up as I step into the room. “As promised, not one piece on the board touched.”
Then his attention shifts to what I’m holding.
I cross the cabin and set the box carefully on the table beside the chessboard before sitting back down.
“Found it in the pocket of the jacket.”
His eyes settle on the handwriting, but he doesn’t reach for it.
“Tara’s writing?” he asks quietly.
“Yeah.” I glance at the front again. “It’s for Dad.”
We leave it sitting there between us, neither of us touching it.
It wasn’t meant for us. It belongs to a moment that never happened. The person who meant to give it is gone. So is the person it was meant for.
Whatever this was supposed to be… it stopped before it got there.
I trace my thumb slowly along the ribbon. “I don’t know if we should open it. It feels… personal.”
He studies it for a moment, then nods. “Yeah.”
A beat.
“It’s been here this whole time,” he says.
I look up at him. “That doesn’t make it ours.”
