Page 66 of Saving it with My Best Friend's Brother

“Our family,” I corrected softly. “All of us.”

Her smile made my heart flip, but Claire burst in before I could kiss her, her usually composed demeanor shaken.

“You need to see this,” she said, tablet extended. “Mrs. Wheeler just finished her formal statement to the FBI.”

The video showed Wheeler’s wife looking years older than yesterday, fear etched in every line of her face.

“Katherine Miller didn’t just survive the accident,” Mrs. Wheeler said quietly, her voice trembling. “She saw everything. And she wasn’t the only one there that night. Ask Arthur Horton about the missing evidence. Ask him about December 15th.”

The room fell silent except for Chad’s soft babbling, the sound emphasizing the weight of her words.

“December 15th?” Taylor frowned, her face paling. “What’s significant about—”

“That’s the day Mom died,” Amelia whispered, her hand finding mine instinctively. “The day Michael says he saw someone...”

My phone buzzed—a text from an unknown number that made my heart stop:

The truth isn’t always what we think, son. Sometimes the people closest to us keep secrets to protect us. Or themselves.

Look in our old ski lodge safe. Your father left something there the night before he died.

I’m so sorry for what comes next.

-Mom

The old ski lodge stood dark against the afternoon sky, its weathered timber telling stories of happier days. Amelia’s hand was steady in mine as our small group approached—Van and Taylor insisting on coming with us, Chad secure in his carrier, sleeping peacefully despite the tension.

“I can’t believe we never checked the safe here,” Amelia said, her voice barely above a whisper in the mountain quiet.

“Nobody’s used this building in years,” I replied, unlocking the door with keys that felt heavy in my hand. The metal was cold against my palm, like memories frozen in time. “After Dad died, our grandma closed it. Said it wasn’t safe.”

“Now we know why,” Taylor murmured, staying close to Van.

The interior smelled of dust and memories—pine boards, old wax, the ghost of hot chocolate from countless winter days. I’d learned to ski here, taught by my father while Mom watched from the window, her proud smile as warm as the cocoa she’d have waiting. A faded trail map behind the old rental counter hid the safe, its edges curling like fall leaves.

“Hunter.” Van’s voice was gentle, Chad stirring slightly in his sleep. “Whatever’s in there...”

“We face it together,” Amelia finished, squeezing my hand. The afternoon light through dusty windows caught her mother’s bracelet, making it shine like hope.

The combination came easily—Dad’s birthday, one he’d used for everything despite Mom’s teasing about security. Inside lay a single envelope, my name written in his familiar scrawl, the sight of it making my throat tight.

“Read it,” Taylor encouraged softly, moving closer.

My hands shook as I opened it, the paper carrying a faint trace of Dad’s aftershave:

“Hunter,

If you’re reading this, something’s happened. The evidence Katherine and I found about Crystal Ridge goes deeper than property fraud. There’s a list of names—people who’ve been silenced, bought off, or worse.

Margaret Horton has been helping us gather proof. But someone in her family is working with them. Someone close.

Be careful who you trust. Some battles are worth fighting, no matter the cost.

Dad”

“He knew,” I whispered, the paper trembling. Winter light through dirty windows cast long shadows across the floor. “He knew how dangerous this would be.”

Amelia touched my cheek, wiping away tears I hadn’t realized had fallen. Her fingers were warm against my skin, groundingme in the present. “He was trying to protect you. He’d be proud of you now.”

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