Ryan placed the old letter on the table.
“I wasn’t going to come here tonight.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“I found the documents after my dad died.”
His voice softened.
“He kept everything.”
The letter.
The hospital records.
The court papers.
“He never stopped looking for you.”
My chest tightened.
“Daniel?”
Ryan nodded.
“He hired people to find you.”
I covered my mouth.
“But why didn’t he?”
“Because every time he got close, you moved.”
I looked away.
Because that was true.
“He thought you hated him.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“I didn’t.”
“I know.”
Ryan’s voice was quieter now.
“He figured that out too late.”
The room went silent again.
“Your father died six months ago.”
I closed my eyes.
I hadn’t known.
Of course I hadn’t known.
I had taken sixteen years from him.
And he had still spent his final years trying to find us.
