Page 277 of Let Me In

I love you too, Daddy.

I hit send.

Then curl back into the couch, Cleo tucked under my arm, Luca at my feet.

I hold the phone against my chest like it could carry the warmth of his hand.

And I wait for morning.

35

CAL

I read her message twice.

Then again.

Phone screen pale against the dark. Light flickering across the edge of the glovebox. Across the compass still nestled inside—cold from the night air. The one she pressed back into my hand, eyes full of quiet trust.

I reach in and take it out, holding it between both hands, thumb grazing the nick in the casing she always touched.

Lift it to my mouth. Inhale.

Still smells like her—soft lavender and that hint of cedar from the cabin. The scent lives in the metal now, buried into its edges.

It steadies me more than it should.

God, I can hear it.

Her voice in those words. Small. Braver than she knows.

She didn’t tell me everything—I can see that.

But she told me enough.

She reached back.

And that’s what matters.

I tuck the phone into my chest pocket, close and steady.

Then step out into the night.

The water laps quietly against the edge of the dock.

No wind.

No boats moving.

Just the soft hum of current beneath the world.

I’ve been watching the yacht for hours.

Every light pattern. Every silhouette behind glass.

They think they’re invisible.

Untouchable.

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