Through the curtain, I saw a motorcycle pull up.
The rider stepped off and scanned our yard.
I slipped on my shoes and stepped onto the porch.
“Hi, sir,” Ava said. “Want to buy a toy? I made them myself. They’re for my mom’s medicine.”
The man crouched and picked up a crocheted bunny. “You made these yourself?”
Ava nodded. “My grandma taught me.”
He smiled. “They’re incredible. Your dad would’ve loved them.”
Ava’s eyes widened. “You knew my dad?”
He nodded. “Yeah… I did. I’ve been trying to find your mom for a long time.”
“Ava, honey,” I said gently, “go inside for a minute.”
When she left, the man removed his helmet.
My breath caught.
“Marcus?”
“Yeah, Brooklyn. It’s me.”
I stepped back. “No. You don’t get to show up here.”
“I know how this looks.”
“Do you? David died and you vanished. Your parents said you left.”
“That’s a lie,” he said quietly.
I froze.
“I wrote. I called. They told me you’d moved. That you didn’t want me.”
“They told me you walked away.”
“I didn’t. I was shut out.”
Then he added, “And that’s not the worst thing they did.”
Inside, he looked at the bills, the pills, the life we were barely holding together.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything.”
Then he placed a folder on the table.
“My parents forged your name,” he said. “They stole David’s life insurance. All of it.”
I couldn’t breathe.
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