”
He looked at the photograph on his desk—the worn image of Lily, crayon drawing of a car and a house. He had left. He had walked away before there was anything to hear. But he had come back.
Not soon enough to save his daughter. But soon enough to stand in the way of the same thing happening again. —
The next morning, Lisa opened the hotel door. Daniel stood in the hallway.
“The building is safe,” he said. “No one will bother you. If you want to go home, you can. ”
She looked at him for a long moment.
“And if we don’t want to go back? ”
“Then I’ll find you another place. ”
She exhaled slowly. “Annie asked about you this morning.
”
Daniel said nothing. “She said you promised to wait. ”
“I did. ”
Lisa stepped aside, let him in.
Annie was at the table, drawing. She looked up and smiled. “You came back again. ”
“I told you I would.
”
She held up her drawing—the house, the three figures, and the barrier now gone. “They’re not outside anymore. ”
Daniel looked at it. Then at her.
“No,” he said quietly. “They’re not. ”
Because for the first time in years, he wasn’t walking away.
He was staying.