I understood why. Promises had harmed us before.
So I chose my words carefully.
“I promise I will try very hard to show up when I say I will.”
Lucas considered this, then handed me one of his crackers. “For trying.”
I took it like it was something sacred.
After they drove away in an older silver hatchback with a car seat in the back and a tiny dinosaur sticker on the rear window, I sat in my truck for a long time.
Then I drove to my apartment.
The letter was in a lockbox in my closet, beneath my passport and a stack of old medical records from the accident. I had not opened it in years. My hands trembled as I unfolded the page.
Jake,
By the time you read this, I’ll already be gone. I can’t spend my life begging your family to see me as worthy. Your mother is right. Love should not feel like a war. I accepted what she offered because I need to start over somewhere no one knows me. Please don’t look for me.
Hannah.
I stared at the signature.
The shape was close. Good enough to fool a man with a concussion, grief, and a mother beside him whispering that healing required acceptance.
But now, after seeing Hannah again, I noticed what pain had hidden.
Hannah always looped the second h in her name.
This signature did not.
My phone rang again.
My mother.
This time, I answered.
“Jacob,” she said, relief and worry mixing in her voice. “Where are you?”
I looked at the false letter on my kitchen table.
“I saw Hannah.”
Silence.
Not surprise.
Fear.
It lasted only a second, but I heard it.
“Oh,” my mother said. “I see.”
“Do you?”
Her voice softened. “Honey, whatever she told you, please remember she made choices. Painful ones.”
“Did you know about Lucas?”
A pause.
“Who?”
I closed my eyes.
Even now, she chose the lie first.
“My son.”
Her breathing changed.
“Jacob, you need to come over. This is not a conversation for the phone.”
“You knew.”
“I knew there was a child,” she said carefully. “I did not know whether he was yours.”
“Did you ever plan to tell me?”