20. Taran

CHAPTER 20

TARAN

“Wynter—Rory’s missing.” Taran’s voice shook so badly it was barely recognizable.

His words didn’t register. Missing? Missing? Then my heart dropped like a stone. I tightened my grip on my phone. “What? Missing? How?”

“He didn’t come home at five like I told him to, so I called Matthew’s mom, Nancy. She said he left two hours ago. She watched him walk toward the house and go through the gate. She even waited until he went in before she turned back inside. But he isn’t here, Wyn! He isn’t here!” His voice cracked into a shriek.

“Taran, stay put. I’m coming right over.”

“I—what should I do? What can I do? I?—”

“Did you call the police?”

“Yes! They’re already mobilized, and some members of the community are searching. But I feel so helpless, Wyn. What if something happened to him?”

Taran’s voice cracked under the weight of his fear, and it twisted something deep inside me. This wasn’t just worry; it was the kind of bone-deep dread that only a parent could feel.

“Call the moms of the kids he plays with. Maybe he went to someone else’s house,” I said, keeping my tone steady, even though I felt his panic tugging at me. He didn’t need me to spiral with him. He needed me to be solid. “I’ll be at your place in five.”

My mind raced through possibilities—most of them harmless, though I couldn’t stop the darker scenarios from sneaking in. But I couldn’t afford to let doubt or fear take over. Taran needed me to think clearly, to be the calm in the storm he was weathering.

He had to stay positive. We had to stay positive. Rory was smart and resourceful; the kid wasn’t careless. I held onto that thought like a lifeline. Whatever was going on, we’d find him. Taran couldn’t afford to drown in his fears, and neither could I. I had to be the one to keep him grounded.

I ended the call and gripped the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles whitening. I started the truck and floored it toward Taran’s house. The roads were slick with ice and patches of packed snow from the last storm, but I barely noticed. My hands gripped the wheel like a lifeline.

Taran’s call had come while I was parked outside the sheriff’s office, after finalizing arrangements for Lisa to receive the summons for our divorce. Just a couple of days ago, I’d had one of the best Christmases of my life. Spending the day with Taran and Rory had felt like stepping into a world I’d only dreamed of—a world where I belonged. While Taran was out that morning, the electronically generated summons had arrived. I was working out the details for delivery to Lisa with the sheriff, never imagining that I’d get a call like this from Taran.

When I arrived, the front door was wide open. Taran was pacing the living room, phone pressed to his ear. His face was pale, eyes red, and his free hand trembled as he wiped it over his mouth.

“Thanks, Angie. Yeah, I’ll let you know. Bye.” He ended the call and dropped the phone onto the couch.

He turned to me, looking more lost than I’d ever seen him. “He’s not there. Where’s my boy, Wynter? Where could he have gone?”

I crossed the room and pulled him into my arms. He resisted for a second, stiff with panic, but then melted into me, his head dropping to my shoulder. His tears soaked into my jacket.

“I’ve called all his friends,” he choked out. “Even kids he hasn’t seen since Christmas break started. No one knows where he is. Did I—I don’t know—did I push him too hard? Was he pretending to be okay with us, but he wasn’t?”

“Taran, don’t do this to yourself,” I said, tightening my arms around him. “Rory loves you. You know that. Let’s not jump to conclusions before we talk to him, okay?”

He nodded against my shoulder, but his breath hitched. I could feel his panic like a live wire under my skin.

“Did he say anything strange lately? Ask anything unusual?” I stepped back and cupped his face, forcing him to meet my eyes. “Think, babe.”

He blinked rapidly, his thoughts clearly scrambled. “Last night—he, uh, he asked about the name of the bank where I applied for the loan. Said he was curious.”

The bank. I remembered him mentioning he was collecting surveys from Taran’s customers. I could just picture him working on the surveys, those earnest little hands scribbling down questions about cookies and cakes like they were plans for NASA. My stomach sank. I didn’t take him seriously at the time, thinking it was just wishful thinking on his part. I’d underestimated him; he was more determined than I thought.

“Taran,” I said carefully, “what if he went to the bank?”

His eyes widened, then narrowed in confusion. “Why would he— Oh, God.” Taran’s hand flew to his chest. “But the bank is miles away! And it’s snowing!”

“I’ll check the route and the bank,” I said, already moving toward the door. “You stay here in case he comes home. I’ll find him and bring him back to you safe and sound.”

Before he could argue, I kissed him quickly and sprinted to the truck.

The truck's tires screeched as I cut across an icy patch of road. The thing about Colorado weather was the day could begin with mild temperatures and clear skies, creating a false sense of security. But then by afternoon, temperatures could drop, and snow could begin falling unexpectedly, becoming heavy within hours. The clouds were looking dark now and it could start storming at any minute. That’s why Rory’s disappearance was of great concern.

I willed my mind to stay calm. My army training kicked in without hesitation. In war, I often directed troops into the worst situations, sending them into danger with no guarantee they'd come back. At times, I'd thought I was going to die, but the fear I felt then was nothing compared to this. This was different. It wasn’t my life at risk—it was Rory’s. And that made everything else fade into the background.

The engine hummed under me, but my thoughts roared. Rory’s face swam before my eyes—his warm smile, his suspicious eyes. I remembered the way he’d looked at me lately, like he was weighing me, uncertain of my place in his life. Maybe that was my fault. Did he run away because of me? Did I mess this up already?

No. I wouldn't believe that. Rory was a good kid, and he loved his father. He wouldn’t do this, not to Taran. I wouldn’t let myself believe it.

Please, God, let him be safe.

I gripped the wheel tighter, feeling the weight of the truck in my hands. The road seemed to stretch on forever, ice and snow flicking up from beneath the tires. Every minute felt like an hour. I tried not to think about what might be happening to him, but it was impossible. I couldn’t shake the image of Rory—alone, scared, far from home.

What was I supposed to do if I didn’t find him? My chest tightened, the pressure building. Rory was Taran’s only son. Losing him... that would break him.

And damn it—I loved the kid. He wasn’t just Taran’s son. He was mine, too.

I pushed the truck harder, the engine growling as I turned into the bank’s lot, tires screeching on the slick pavement. The bitter wind slammed into me as soon as I stepped out, but I didn’t care. My mind was focused on one thing: finding Rory.

The cold didn’t matter. His safety mattered.

I slammed the door behind me, my boots crunching in the snow as I sprinted toward the entrance.

Inside, the warmth of the bank hit me like a punch to the chest, and I shook it off. The lobby was quiet, with no sign of Rory. No sign of a kid who might fit his description.

I walked to the front desk, the receptionist barely glancing up as I approached. “Excuse me, miss,” I said, my voice gruffer than usual. “Have you seen a kid? African American, about twelve years old? Five-eight, five-nine?” I raised my hand to show the approximate height. “His name’s Rory.”

She shook her head, barely blinking. “No, sir. I haven’t.”

Frustration built in my gut, but I didn’t have time to waste. “Shit.” I ran a hand through my hair, pacing a few steps away. I’d been sure he’d be here. Had I missed something? Maybe Taran was right. Maybe Rory really did run away because of me. But I couldn’t— wouldn’t —believe that.

I turned to leave.

“Excuse me, sir?” the receptionist called after me.

I spun on my heel, my impatience burning through my skin.

“I just remembered something. I just came from upstairs to take over. The other receptionist—the one who sits here—she said a kid came in a while ago. Said he wanted to see the manager. She asked where his parents were, and he said he’d go get them. He never came back in.”

A knot tightened in my stomach. I’d thought he was here. Now, I was sure of it. But where the hell had he gone?

“Thanks,” I muttered, brushing past her toward the security guard. The cold seemed to freeze everything around me, including my thoughts.

The guard barely looked up as I approached. “A kid. African American. Twelve. Seen him?”

He shrugged. “Kid went out a while ago. Haven’t seen him since.”

Where the hell was Rory now?

I ran a hand through my hair again, tension coiling tight in my chest.

“Want me to call the police?” the guard offered.

I waved him off. “His dad already did that.” My voice felt thick in my throat.

The guard nodded, and I turned on my heel, my mind working a mile a minute. If I were a kid, where would I go?

It was only then that I realized— this wasn’t just about finding Rory anymore, but about finding him before it was too late.

I trudged back to my Ford, the cold biting through my jacket, but I couldn’t stop the racing thoughts. I had checked every teenage hangout spot I remembered, called the places Rory might have gone. But nothing. The snow was starting to fall harder now, small flakes swarming around like tiny ghosts. It was too quiet. Too damn quiet.

I decided to take another route, hoping for something—anything—that would give me a sign. The engine hummed under me, but my mind barely registered the drive. I scanned the roads, the houses. The parking lots. Every crack and crevice I passed seemed to whisper Rory’s name.

And then I saw him.

There. A small figure standing in the distance at a bus stop I knew damn well didn’t have regular service.

My heart lurched in my chest. Relief flooded through me, warm and overwhelming, so strong it nearly knocked me off my feet. I pulled the truck over without thinking, slamming the gearshift into park before I was even fully stopped. My boots crunched against the snow as I rushed toward him, calling his name before I even thought about it.

“Rory!”

He turned, his eyes wide, but he didn’t move. His shoulders were hunched, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets as if trying to make himself smaller. The cold wind whipped around us, but all I could focus on was him, standing there like he’d been waiting for a ride that wasn’t coming.

I reached him in two strides, my hands almost instinctively pulling him into my arms. His body was cold, too cold, and stiff at first, but then he let me hold him, his body finally relaxing, though he’d been out here for far too long. His face was pale, lips chapped from the wind.

My chest tightened, and I pulled him closer, shielding him from the bite of the wind. “Thank God,” I muttered, my voice breaking a little. “You’re okay.” I didn’t even try to hide the relief. It was too much to hold in. “You know how worried your dad’s been, right? He’s losing his mind.”

Rory didn’t answer right away, and when he finally looked up at me, his eyes were heavy with exhaustion and something else —guilt, maybe even regret. “I didn’t mean to scare him—I was going back home.”

His words were soft, quiet. I set him back down gently, but my hands stayed on his shoulders for a moment longer than necessary. The cold was gnawing at us both, and I couldn’t think straight with it biting into my skin like that.

“Let’s get you out of the cold.”

I didn’t give him a chance to respond before I led him toward the truck, keeping a careful eye on him as we moved. He was shaking—whether from the cold or something deeper, I wasn’t sure—but I wasn’t about to let him stay out there a second longer. The air bit at my skin, but all I cared about was getting him inside, where he could warm up.

Once we reached the truck, I opened the door and guided him in. As soon as he was inside, I reached into the back seat, pulling out an old blanket I kept there. I draped it over his shoulders, wrapping him up as much as I could, trying to make sure he felt safe. His body was still tense, but the shaking slowed down a little.

The truck doors slammed shut, and I started the engine. The warmth blasted through the vents so quickly, it almost felt suffocating, but Rory seemed to appreciate it. He was finally starting to relax, though his hands still shook slightly. Whether it was fear or just the cold, I wasn’t sure, but it hurt to see him like this.

I turned the heat higher, watching him out of the corner of my eye. His eyes were distant, staring out the window as if he could erase what had just happened. His fingers pressed against the glass, his breath fogging up the surface.

“Hey,” I said gently, my voice softer now, “you okay?”

He nodded, but didn’t speak, his gaze still fixed outside. It was clear he was holding something back, but I wasn’t going to push him too hard—not just yet.

I reached over and adjusted the blanket around him, making sure he was warm, then let the silence settle between us. I needed to give him a minute, just to breathe, to settle.

Once I was sure he was warmer and calmer, I asked quietly, “Why did you come here, Rory?”

He didn’t meet my eyes. Instead, his hand slid into his jacket pocket, pulling out crumpled papers. He fiddled with them nervously, smoothing out the edges, like it mattered.

“I’ve got thirty-seven survey forms,” he muttered. “Everyone loves Dad’s baking. They think he’s great, and I wanted to do something... anything for him.” His voice cracked on the last word. “I thought if I could show the bank how good he is... I could help him get the loan. He deserves it, you know?”

He handed the forms to me, his hands trembling slightly. It wasn’t just about the forms, though. I could see it in his eyes—he was trying to fix everything, but didn’t know how.

I took the papers, not really sure how to respond. There was so much care in his gesture, so much good intention, but... but he was in way over his head.

“You should’ve asked for help, Rory,” I said, my voice softening as I tried to find the balance between understanding and showing him the seriousness of what had just happened.

I paused for a moment, my gaze on him, making sure he understood that I wasn’t angry at him for trying, but I couldn’t ignore how dangerous it had been for him to just go off like that. The snow was heavy, the roads unpredictable. I couldn’t even imagine what might’ve happened if I hadn’t found him.

“You have no idea how worried your dad’s been. And not telling anyone where you were going? That’s... that’s scary. Do you realize how close you came to getting lost out there in that weather?”

Rory didn’t look up, his shoulders hunched in that way that made him seem smaller than his twelve years. Guilt was written all over him, but it was more than just the consequences of his actions—it was the weight of having tried so hard, and yet still not getting it right.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice so small it barely registered above the hum of the engine.

The words hit me harder than I expected. I couldn't just let him shrink into that guilt, not when I could feel the depth of his good intentions. I reached over, pulled him into a gentle hug. His body stiffened for a second, surprised, but then he relaxed, curling into me. He was trembling, whether from the cold or the storm of emotions I wasn’t sure. But I held him, my hand rubbing his back in slow, soothing circles.

“You were trying to help. I know that. But sometimes things don’t go the way we plan, and that’s okay. What matters is that you’re safe.”

I could feel the heat from his face against my chest, the way his breath hitched every now and then. He was trying to be strong, but at twelve, strength was often about allowing yourself to break a little. He didn't have to be tough right now.

He sniffed.

I hugged him a little tighter, not caring if the truck was parked on a snow-covered street. “You did a brave thing, coming out here to help your dad. I get it. But you can’t just disappear, okay? You’ve got to let people know what you're doing. That’s how we keep each other safe. Do you understand?”

He nodded against me, his arms slowly wrapping around me, clinging to the comfort like he was afraid to let go. The tightness in my chest loosened a bit, and I let the moment stretch out longer than usual.

“Just don’t carry this all alone,” I whispered into his hair. “You’ve got your dad. You’ve got me. You’re never alone.”

His head tilted back, and I could see the remnants of guilt in his eyes, but there was something else there too—a flicker of relief.

“I won’t do it again,” he promised quietly, his voice thick with unshed tears, each word trembling with emotion.

I pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, my hands still resting on his shoulders. “I know you won’t.”

We sat there for a moment, the cold creeping into the truck through the small cracks in the windows, but neither of us moved. I could hear the faint rustle of his coat, the soft sigh he let out. His body was still a little tense, but there was something lighter in the air now, something more peaceful.

Finally, I pulled out my phone and dialed Taran's number. Relief ran through me as the call connected. The second it rang, I knew what I had to say.

“Taran,” I said, my voice calm but full of reassurance. “I found him. He’s okay. Just... wait. We’re coming home.”