Page 63 of Saving it with My Best Friend's Brother

“I really thought...” he whispered against my hair, vulnerability raw in his voice.

“I know.” I held him tighter, feeling Taylor move close to join our embrace. “But we’re closer. They wouldn’t try this if we weren’t getting close.”

“She’s right,” Van said softly, bouncing a fussy Chad, whose small sounds echoed in the tense quiet. “They’re getting desperate.”

Taylor wiped her eyes, straightening her shoulders in that way she shared with her brother. “We need to find Mom.”

“Not yet,” Claire interrupted, her tablet casting a blue glow on her concerned face. “Look at this.”

She showed us Wheeler’s phone records—the call had come from a local number. The evidence of their deception laid bare in simple data.

“Someone nearby was playing Mrs. Miller,” Agent Blake said, returning from dealing with Wheeler. Her boots left faint marks on the spilled coffee. “Someone who knows her well enough to almost sound like her.”

A terrible suspicion formed in my mind, clicking into place like puzzle pieces. “Hunter... didn’t you say Wheeler’s wife used to be a voice actor?”

His eyes widened, hope replaced by understanding. “Before she married him. She did radio commercials...”

“And she’s been at every town event,” I continued, remembering her constant presence. “Hearing your mother mentioned, studying old recordings...”

“Getting ready to play her part,” Taylor finished, unconsciously holding Chad closer.

Agent Blake was already moving. “I’ll get a team to their house.”

But Hunter was looking at something behind me, his face draining of color. I turned to see what had caught his attention, the afternoon light suddenly seeming brighter.

Through the lobby windows, an elegant older woman stood watching us. Her hair was silver in the sunlight, but her eyes—Hunter’s eyes—were unmistakable. She raised one finger to her lips in a gesture so familiar it made my heart ache, then slipped a cream-colored envelope into the mailbox before disappearing around the corner like morning mist.

“Mom,” Hunter breathed, the word carrying years of loss and love.

By the time we reached the mailbox, the mountain breeze had erased any trace of her perfume, but the letter remained. The envelope was heavy cream stationery—the same kind Hunter’s father had always used for important correspondence. His hands trembled as he opened it:

“My darlings,

Not time for a reunion yet. Soon, but not yet. Mrs. Wheeler knows too much. Let the FBI do its job first.

Hunter, Taylor—I’ve missed you every day. But I’m so proud of who you’ve become.

Soon.

All my love,

Mom”

I held Hunter as he read the letter again and again, his fingers tracing each word as if touching them could bring her closer. Taylor cried softly beside us while Van rocked their sleeping son. Chad’s peaceful breathing was a counterpoint to the emotional tension.

Claire appeared in the doorway, her heels silent on the thick runner. “Guys? It’s breaking news that Mrs. Wheeler has just turned herself in. I think she’s ready to talk.”

Hope bloomed in Hunter’s eyes as he looked down at me, turning them the color of pine needles in sunlight. “Together?”

“Together,” I agreed, feeling the weight of his mother’s letter in my hand, the strength of Taylor beside us, the promise of tomorrow in every breath.

The afternoon light illuminated Pine Haven’s lobby in shades of gold, catching the diamond patterns in the stained glass windows his father had designed so long ago. Outside, snow began to fall softly, each flake a promise that even the deepest winters eventually yield to spring.

Chapter Sixteen

Hunter

The early morning light filtered through Pine Haven’s historic windows, casting long shadows across Mrs. Wheeler’s statement. Agent Blake had arranged the pages neatly on my desk, each one detailing years of careful deception—helping my mother gather evidence while playing both sides. The complexity of it made my head spin—memories of casual conversations with Mrs. Wheeler at town events taking on new, darker meanings.

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