29. Aaron

29

AARON

I felt out of place sitting in the dimly-lit office in a less-than-savory part of town, the weight of my worry pressing down on me. The private investigator I'd finally broken down and hired, Sam Turner, was a no-nonsense type with a sharp gaze that seemed to pierce through the clutter of my jumbled thoughts. I hadn't heard from Whitney in weeks, and the silence had become deafening. My mind alternated between anger and fear, the two emotions warring for dominance.

"Mr. Pierce," Turner began, leaning forward across his desk, "I've been looking into your sister's whereabouts, and I have some information for you. But I have to warn you first. I'm afraid it won't be very satisfactory."

I nodded, my heart pounding. The memory of Jamie calling out "Mama" in his small, desperate voice just the other night kept flashing through my mind. He was too young to understand why she wasn't there, and fuck, I'd never known my heart was so capable of breaking until I heard that little guy miss his mother out loud. I'd spent an hour or more holding him, trying to comfort him with a story or a song, but it never felt like enough. His mother was the one he needed, not his cold, fumbling uncle, trying futilely to fill a void he could never truly occupy. That was what had finally gotten me to break down and hire a PI.

"I was able to find out that your sister, Whitney Pierce, was last seen with a man named Mark Moreno," the investigator continued. "He's bad news, a career criminal with a long rap sheet—everything from drug trafficking to assault."

I felt a surge of anger, and with it, a deep sense of understanding. "She was dating him?"

"Yes," Sam said grimly. "It appears so. From what I can gather, they've both gone dark. No social media activity, no financial transactions. It's like they just vanished, which is never a good sign."

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to process the information. "Tell me more about this scumbag."

"Moreno is suspected of being involved in international drug trafficking, and he's connected to some very dangerous people. If Whitney's with him, she's in serious trouble. I won't sugarcoat it."

I clenched my fists, my mind racing. "Christ. Whitney has always made bad decisions, but this…"

"It's hard to say why women get mixed up with these types," Sam said sympathetically. "People get involved with the wrong crowd for a lot of reasons. Desperation, manipulation, sometimes even just trying to escape their problems. But the fact is, they're missing, and given his background, it doesn't look good."

The room suddenly felt colder, the air thick with the gravity of the situation. I thought of Jamie again, his small hands clutching at my shirt as he wailed for his mother. "Mama! Mama!" His voice echoed in my mind, each cry a reminder of the innocence caught in the crossfire of this adult chaos.

"Is there any way you can find them?" I asked, my voice barely steady.

"I'm doing everything I can," Sam said with a wince. "I have a few leads I'm following up on. But I need you to understand—this isn't a simple case. If she's with Moreno, things could get very dangerous, very quickly. It might be that the police have to be involved."

I nodded, the knot in my stomach tightening. "Just… keep me updated. I need to know what's happening."

"Of course," he said. "I'll inform you the moment I have any new information. In the meantime, try to stay strong for your nephew. He's going to need you."

I stood up, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. "I appreciate your help."

He stood as well, offering a firm handshake that I released quickly.

"We'll find her, Mr. Pierce. One way or another."

I didn't like the sound of that—how it seemed to imply a darker truth he wasn't saying. We'll find her, dead or alive.

As I left the office, the reality of the situation sank in deeper. Whitney wasn't just ignoring her responsibilities, ditching her kid like my angry heart had assumed. She was caught up in something far more dangerous. My slow-simmering frustration churned with a new, overwhelming sense of fear for her safety. And through it all, Jamie's cries haunted me, a painful reminder of what was at stake.

I made my way back to my car, my thoughts a tangled mess. Whitney had always been the wild one, the one who couldn't seem to find her footing. But this time, her recklessness had led her down a dark path, and I could only hope we could bring her back before it was too late. For her sake, and for Jamie's.

At the end of a long workday that felt like a total waste thanks to my distractible, worried brain, I came home to an unfamiliar sight that instantly lightened the load. Lila was in the high-tech, sleek kitchen I hardly ever used, holding Jamie against her hip as she tended to a saucepan on the stove. Olivia stood on her own chair beside them so she could watch as Lila cooked, and whatever the three of them were making together smelled delicious.

"See, you just use a little pinch of salt," Lila explained to both of the little ones, her voice rising in pitch to emphasize her point. "You can always add more later, but you can't take it away. Here, let me taste this, and then I'll give you a little, too."

Every quiet moment when Lila thought she was unobserved only heightened my feelings for her. She just couldn't stop becoming more and more endearing if she tried. Luckily, I didn't want her to.

"Smells delicious." I cut into the scene, leaning against the wall at the edge of the kitchen to watch. Lila turned to look at me with a luminous smile, and I could see this becoming our forever routine. Me coming home after a long day to her smiling face, a kiss, the sound of our children playing.

"You're just in time. Our guests are on their way," Lila told me with a hint of mischief. "Tell Aaron who's coming to dinner, Livy."

"Daddy!" the toddler squealed excitedly. She bounced on her chubby little legs, and Lila instinctively steadied the chair she stood on to make sure she stayed safe. "And Uncle Felipe!"

"That's right," Lila said, weaving pride into her tone so the child knew someone was proud of her. "Like a family dinner. Hope that's okay with you, Aaron."

"Uncle Aaron!" Olivia repeated, giggling. "Uncle Aaron, and Daddy, and Uncle Felipe, and Mama Lila."

I could see how Lila's heart melted from the sweet, almost sad look on her face. "Oh, I just love you to bits, little one," she said to Olivia, pulling her in for a hug.

My own cold heart was melting, too. It really was like a family, and as outside the norm as it may have appeared, I certainly didn't have any complaints.

"I'm looking forward to it," I told Lila. Our eyes locked together, speaking all of the words we couldn't say out loud. "In fact, I'll set the table for all of us."

I scooped up Jamie from Lila's arms, planting a casual, affectionate kiss on her cheek as I did so. She mouthed a silent thank you, grateful for her free hands as she continued to cook.

As I laid out place settings for all six of us, including colorful segmented dishes for the kids and a high chair for Jamie, I thought of our almost-family like a perfect portrait in my brain. It had a certain glow about it, this imaginary photo of me, Lila, the kids, and the two men I'd grown to admire enough to share Lila's heart and her body between the three of us. Only a small part of me, the big brother part that was still worried after my meeting today, longed for Whitney to be there. Once she was with us, too, safe and happy and healthy again, it would be complete.