"No," he snapped. "You don't get to just show up and ask for her. You don't know what she went through."
"You're right," I said quietly. "I don't. But I loved her. I still love her."
His face changed, not enough to soften, but enough to show doubt. He looked younger then. Not like my past. Like a boy trying to guard a pain too large for him.
After a long silence, he nodded toward the road behind the station. "My shift ends in ten minutes. If I take you, you don't yell. You don't touch her unless she says you can. And if she tells you to leave, you leave."
"I promise."
He studied me. "She's sick."
The sentence landed like a stone.
"How sick?"
He turned back toward the station. "You'll see."
Fifteen minutes later, I followed Evan's dented blue car down quiet back roads. The sun was sinking when we reached a small yellow house with peeling shutters and a porch crowded with potted herbs.
A woman stood behind the screen door.
Even before Evan parked, I knew.
Seventeen years had changed Nina.
Her hair was shorter, with gray near her temples.
She was thinner than I remembered, and one hand gripped the doorframe as if standing took effort. But her eyes were the same. Those dark, searching eyes that had found me at the end of an aisle and promised to choose me.
I stepped out of the car, and she covered her mouth.
"Jasper," she breathed.
My name in her voice nearly put me on my knees.
"Nina."
Evan moved between us. "I'm sorry, Mom. He saw me."
She touched his arm. "It's all right."
"No, it isn't," he argued. "You said he was safer not knowing."
I stared at her. "Safer?"
Nina closed her eyes. When she opened them, tears shone in them. "Come inside."
The house smelled like tea, medicine, and lavender. Photos lined the hallway. Evan as a baby. Evan with missing front teeth. Evan holding a fishing rod. I was in none of them, yet my face appeared in every stage of his life.
Nina sat in an armchair by the window. Evan lingered near the kitchen until she gave him a gentle look.
"I'll be outside," he muttered.
When the door closed, silence filled the room.
"I looked for you," I said. "For months. For years."
"I know."
"How could you know?"
"Because I saw the flyers. I watched the interviews from motel televisions. I heard your voice asking people to help find me."
I sat across from her, shaking. "Then why didn't you come home?"
She pressed her fingers to her lips. "Because the night of our wedding, my father told me something he should have told me long before. He owed money. Not a little, Jasper. A dangerous amount. He had used my name on documents, forged signatures, and made promises to men who did not forgive."
I stared at her.
"They came to the hotel," she continued. "Before dawn. One of them was waiting near the ice machine when I stepped out because I couldn't sleep. He knew your name. He knew where your parents lived. He said if I stayed, they would collect through you."
"My God, Nina."
"I thought if I disappeared, they would stop looking at you. I thought I could fix it, or at least keep the danger away from you."
