Page 22 of Echo’s Secret

Even when we were kids sitting on opposite sides of that fence at Sacred Heart, I knew he was different. The only person who understood that specific kind of loneliness. The only one who didn't try to fix it with empty promises. He just sat there, back pressed against chain-link, and let me not be alone for an hour.

And when we reconnected as adults, when those weeks of talking turned into something more, I felt it again. Like finding the other half of something I didn't know was broken.

Then I ran. Because that's what I do. Run before I can be left behind.

But Wesley didn't come after me. Didn't push. Just let me go the way he lets everyone make their own choices. And when I showed up months later with a baby on my hip and desperation in my voice, he didn't punish me for leaving. He just said "come inside" and wrote a check and told me I was staying.

Like it was that simple.

Like family was that simple.

Maybe it is. Maybe I've been making it harder than it needs to be my whole life.

The motorcycle slows and I open my eyes, expecting to see the clubhouse gates ahead. Instead, Wesley's turning off the main road onto a smaller one. Then onto an even smaller one, barely paved, more like a dirt path cutting through trees.

I recognize this road. I came to Millhaven a few times when Wesley and I were seeing each other. Stayed in cheap motels on the edge of town, explored the streets while he was working. But I've never been down this particular path.

I tap his shoulder, but he doesn't stop.

We climb higher. The road gets rougher. Trees press in on both sides, blocking out the sun. My grip tightens on his waist and I feel him shift slightly, not pulling away, just acknowledging that he knows I'm nervous.

Finally, the trees thin out. The road ends in a small clearing at the top of what I realize is a hill. Wesley kills the engine and climbs off, offering me his hand.

I take it and slide off the bike, legs shaky from the ride. "Where are we?"

"You'll see. Come on."

He doesn't let go of my hand. Just leads me through the clearing toward the edge of the hill. And then I see it.

Millhaven spread out below us.

The entire city visible from this vantage point: all the buildings, houses and roads laid out like a map. Cars moving along streets look tiny from here, like toys. People are dots. The whole world reduced to something small and manageable.

The morning sun catches on windows, making them glitter. I can see the downtown area with its handful of tall buildings. The residential neighborhoods spreading outward in neat grids. The river cutting through the center like a silver ribbon.

I recognize some of it from my previous visits. The main street where we got coffee once or the park where we sat and talked for hours. But from up here, it all looks different. More cohesive. Like pieces of a puzzle fitting together to make something whole.

It's beautiful.

"I come here sometimes," Wesley says. Still holding my hand. "When I need to think. When the clubhouse feels too crowded. When I need perspective."

"How did you find it?"

"Judge showed me. He comes here when his nightmares get too difficult to deal with. Said it helps to see the whole city at once. Makes problems feel smaller. More manageable."

"Why did you bring me here?" I ask.

"Because I wanted you to see it. The town. Where Theo will grow up. Where we might build something together."

"We're really talking about that, aren't we? A future. Together."

"Yeah. We are."

"I don't know how to do that," I admit. "I've never planned for a future with anyone. Never let myself want that."

"Me either."

I look at him. He's staring out at the city, profile sharp against the bright sky. Gray eyes tracking movement below like he's noticing every detail. Always watching. Always aware.