Page 14 of All Along The Watchtower

My hand moved of its own accord, covering her trembling fingers. She didn’t pull away, and something in my chest loosened at the tiny victory.

“I was eight when my mom died.” The admission slipped out before I could stop it, drawn from that deep well of shared pain. “I know what it feels like. That… emptiness. Like someone reached in and scooped out everything that made sense in the world. Like you’re just… drifting.”

Peyton’s eyes locked with mine, something desperate and hungry in their depths. The same look I’d had when social services was trying to figure out what to do with me. “What happened to you?”

“I ended up here. With my grandfather.” I squeezed her hand, feeling the slight tremors running through her willowy frame. “Pop—Ed—he took me in. Gave me a home. A family. Saved me, really.”

“Did you know him before?”

“No.” A sad smile tugged at my lips as I remembered that first awkward meeting, both of us terrified but trying not to show it. “Never even met him. But he chose me anyway.” And I’d never stop being grateful for that. Pop had been my anchor when everything else was chaos.

Tears welled in her eyes. “I don’t have any other family. That’s why I came looking for… for him.”

The weight of what she wasn’t saying pressed against my chest. No other family meant foster care. Group homes. The system. Christ. I remembered that, too.

“How long?” I asked softly.

“Three months.” Her voice cracked. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay there anymore.”

The desperate need to run. To find something—someone—to hold on to. God, I remembered that feeling. It had driven me to try running away twice before social services found Ed.

“You’re safe here.” The promise came from somewhere deep in my soul, bypassing every single one of my carefully constructed walls. “Whatever happens next, we’ll figure it out together. Okay?”

A single tear tracked down her cheek. Impatient and faintly embarrassed, she swiped at it with her sleeve, but nodded.

Behind me, I heard Willa’s quiet sniffle. But I kept my focus on Peyton, on this girl who’d had her whole world ripped away, just like I had.

“Where are you from?” I kept my voice gentle, not wanting to spook her.

“Oregon.”

Shit. That was the other side of the continent. My stomach churned. “Who brought you here?”

Peyton’s gaze skittered away, fixing on the wall behind me. Her fingers twisted harder in her hoodie. The evasion spoke volumes.

“Did you come here on your own? All the way across the country?”

A bare nod.

Jesus Christ. My mind filled with every horrible scenario that could’ve befallen a thirteen-year-old girl traveling alone. Human trafficking. Assault. Robbery. The fact that she’d made it here in one piece was nothing short of miraculous.

“You’re very smart and brave to have managed that.” I congratulated myself for saying that instead of putting my head between my knees to wheeze through the what-if anxiety still coursing through my veins.

“Are you going to tell me where my dad is or not?” Steel crept back into her voice, that earlier vulnerability vanishing beneath a fresh shield of teenage bravado.

“He’s not here.” The words felt like rocks in my mouth.

The color drained from her face, leaving her already fair complexion ghostly pale. “Not here? Where is he?”

“He’s in the Navy. He just left the island this morning to go back.” I hated being the one to deliver this news, watching hope die in those eyes that were so much like Ford’s.

Pure panic flashed across her features. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, quick movements, and I recognized the early stages of hyperventilation. Her hands trembled at her sides, and she swayed slightly in the chair as if the floor had suddenly become unstable.

“It’s going to be okay.” I grabbed both her hands in mine. “We’re going to get him back for you. We’ve just got to let him know you’re here.”That you exist. The words echoed in my head. Ford had a daughter. A beautiful, brave, terrified daughter who’d crossed the country alone to find him.

“You’re friends?” Hope and desperation mingled in her voice.

“We used to be. A long time ago.” The words tasted like ashes in my mouth. “Just… give me a little bit.”

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