Page 63 of Unlocking Melodies

Even if those battles came with questionable surveillance techniques and a sleeping pug as head of security.

Chapter 16

Father’s Keeper

Sarah's Diner had never felt so quiet. The usual morning bustle had been replaced by an eerie calm that made every small sound feel amplified – the soft hum of the coffee maker, distant clinks from the kitchen, the rhythmic tapping of Ethan's fingers against his thigh under our table.

I watched another regular peek through the window, then hurriedly walk past. Jake's influence, probably. The sheriff had a way of clearing rooms without saying a word. Even Sarah herself kept finding reasons to reorganize the already perfectly arranged counter, throwing concerned glances my way when she thought I wasn't looking.

The coffee in front of me had gone cold, untouched. My stomach was doing too many acrobatics to risk adding caffeine to the mix. Though watching Ethan pretend he wasn't tracking every movement in the diner while attempting to look casually relaxed was almost entertaining enough to distract me from my nerves. Almost.

His knee brushed mine under the table – an anchor I hadn't asked for but desperately needed. He'd kept his promiseto let me handle this, though the tension radiating from him suggested it was taking every ounce of his corporate-trained control.

The bell above the door chimed, and my heart did a complicated gymnastics routine in my chest. But it was just Mrs. Henderson, making what had to be her fifth “casual” pass by the diner. The opera glasses poorly hidden in her purse weren't fooling anyone.

Then the door opened again, and this time there was no mistaking the figure that stepped inside. Gary didn't match whatever image my fractured memory had conjured. Instead of the disheveled desperation I'd half-expected, he wore a suit that, while clearly aged, spoke of deliberate effort. His shoes were polished, his hair neatly combed. He looked like someone trying very hard to make a specific impression.

But it was what he carried that caught my attention – an old photo album, its edges soft with wear, papers threatening to escape from between its pages. Something about it made my throat tight, though I couldn't say why.

I felt Ethan tense beside me, his casual facade cracking slightly. His fingers had stopped their nervous rhythm, now gripping his own untouched coffee cup like it might try to escape. The diner seemed to hold its collective breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

Gary scanned the diner like he was casing it – an observation that came from somewhere deeper than memory. He approached the counter with deliberate casualness that felt rehearsed.

“Coffee, black, two sugars,” he ordered, his voice carrying a hint of New York that made something stir in my mind.

“Just like your father,” Sarah looked at Ethan and then immediately looked like she wanted to swallow the words back.Her eyes darted to me apologetically before she practically fled to the coffee maker.

I watched Gary's approach, noting how his confident stride faltered slightly as he got closer. He sat down with the kind of careful movement that suggested he was trying very hard not to spook anyone – probably me.

“You look good,” he said finally, his accent softening with what sounded like genuine emotion. “Healthy.”

“Unlike the last time you saw me?” The words came out before I could stop them, sharp and questioning.

Gary flinched. “I deserved that.” He placed the photo album between us like a peace offering. “Though you might not remember why.”

“That's kind of the problem, isn't it?” I managed a smile that probably looked as strained as it felt. “Memory's a bit spotty these days.”

“Yeah.” His hands trembled slightly as he opened the album. “Maybe that's why... maybe we could...” He stopped, took a breath. “I brought some things you might want to see.”

He pulled out a photo and placed it carefully on the table. Three smiling faces looked back at me – a younger version of myself perched on Gary's uniformed shoulders, who I was guessing was my mother laughing that was caught perfectly by the camera. Central Park sprawled behind us, all autumn colors and perfect moments.

“Your mother,” Gary said softly, watching my reaction. “She always said you got her smile. Her way of seeing the best in people, too.”

“Even when they don't deserve it?” The question came out gentler than I'd intended.

“Especially then.” He tapped the photo where his younger self stood proud in NYPD blue. “I was a good cop once. Beforethe gambling, before...” He swallowed hard. “Before I forgot how to be a good father too.”

Under the table, Ethan's hand found mine. I squeezed back, grateful for the anchor.

“Why now?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt. “Why show up when I can't even remember all the reasons I probably shouldn't trust you?”

“Because maybe that's exactly why I had to come.” Gary pulled out another photo – me at a piano recital, looking terrified but determined. “Because you deserve to know your whole story, not just the parts everyone else thinks you should hear.”

“Even the ugly parts?”

“Especially those.” He met my eyes directly. “I was there, you know. At Rosewood. Not... not properly. But I watched your showcase performance from the back. You were brilliant.”

Beside me, Ethan went completely still. This was new information for both of us.

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