**Chapter Two** **SUNNY** Two weeks spent in the embrace of my aunt and uncle in Oregon felt like a lifetime, yet here I am, standing outside the busy Boston airport, the chill of the morning air cutting through me like a knife. The last few weeks were a necessity—time for healing, for my bruised, battered face to mend before stepping into the whirlwind of a travel nursing gig. The contract is longer than I’d prefer, but when my recruiter presented me with an enticing offer at a prestigious hospital in the bustling heart of the city, I found myself unable to decline. Boston. The name alone holds an allure I had only glimpsed in movies—a vibrant, breathing entity simmering with history and energy. Although I’ve never set foot in this city or any place quite like it, there’s a comfort in the thought of becoming a mere face in the crowd, a fleeting presence unseen by him. If he’s still out there, if he’s still alive. I’m as far from him as I can be without crossing oceans. A new beginning, in a place he would never think to search for me, and truthfully, a place I never imagined I would venture. As I step outside, the frigid air bites at my skin—a stark reminder that I am far from acclimated to this climate. The array of shops offering winter gear beckons me; with only a backpack slung over my shoulder, I am woefully unprepared for this chill. The drive through the city grants me a breath of relief, the sight of red brick buildings juxtaposed with splashes of greenery soothing some of my apprehension. In my mind, I cling to the notion that they have not seen or heard from him since the day I made my escape. Nobody has, and a peculiar comfort lingers alongside the fear that churns within. Is he gone for good, stalking my every move, or perhaps even dead? The police have pursued every lead but come up empty, a sign of his isolation—no family, no friends, just me. The solitary tether that grounded him to this world. This alone is why I stayed so long, believing I was his only family. I begged and pleaded with my parents not to send me away, but their decision was a calculated one. They knew my mental state was fragile, incapable of making the right choices. So they pushed me away, unaware of how desperately I sought an escape from the chaos he had wrought in my life. Reflections of the past rush over me—moments when the good days overshadowed the darkness with their brightness. Those days were intoxicating. Yet, looking back, I see the signs I had been blind to. I never truly understood the extent of it until the day I turned my back and walked away. I swallow hard, steeling myself as I take in the bustling city around me. Perhaps he has unwittingly provided me with the very push I needed—the motivation to break free, even when I know I would have stayed if I hadn’t taken that leap. He wouldn’t have let me leave. As I glance at the checklist on my phone, a litany of tasks for the busy day ahead, reality crashes back; I desperately need a distraction. Two weeks isolated in my own turbulent thoughts have been perilous, a reproductive ground for doubt and anxiety. **TYLER** The routine remains unchanged—my sister Sam, Anthony, and I stride to work together, joined by the rhythm of our everyday lives, though Cole, our head of security, is absent today. His early mornings demand a different rhythm, often allowing him to beat the rush hour while the rest of us enjoy the walk. “Let’s stop and grab some coffee!” Sam beams, skipping toward a quaint little café owned by an endearing older woman named Betty. Affectionately dubbed ‘Betty’s Beans,’ it feels like a second home to us, a local treasure. “I brewed coffee at home. Why wouldn’t you just have some there?” I call after her, amusement in my voice. “Tyler, your coffee is decent, yet I can hardly live off black coffee forever. A girl needs her basic white girl lattes and frappes!” With that, she beams, a look of intent on her face that tells me there’s no arguing. I catch Anthony’s gaze as he watches her with the kind of admiration that suggests he’s hopelessly in love, though he’d never admit it. He’s a good guy, just like Sam and me—trying to rise above the crushing expectations of our elite upbringing that looms ever present. While Sam’s affections are playful, they tend to sway toward fun, avoiding any real commitment. She’s flexible, fluid in her attractions, while I remain tethered to more conventional standards of dating, trapped by the expectations of my family. I’ve played the game, but as heir to the Caddell Investment Firm, I’m bound to the future my father envisions, where marriage is a strategic maneuver, not an expression of love. The weight of responsibility lingers over me, an unseen storm that brews as I bide my time, enduring until the inevitable deluge of obligation floods my life. I am the foundation for the family name, a puppet on strings expertly manipulated by my father Mitchell, who sees me not just as a son, but as an instrument for his ambitions. “Careful, man. If you keep staring so hard, you might undress her with your eyes,” I tease Anthony as we step into the café, slapping him on the back. The embarrassed flush that spreads across his cheeks is proof enough. Inside, we’re greeted as regulars, our first names forging an easy familiarity, one that eases the weight of our last name—a name that secures success in this city, but one that comes with its own set of burdens. I take a seat on a couch while Sam and Anthony place their orders. When the barista asks if I'd like anything, I politely decline, earning a scoff from Sam. “He’s a coffee snob,” she quips, rolling her eyes. Minutes slip by while I scroll through work emails, occasionally glancing around, my instincts honed from years of navigating a world where powerful names draw envy and ire. The floor-to-ceiling windows let in the fresh air, awakening the shop and weaving life into the weathered bricks and vintage decor. “Do you want anything, Tyler?” the barista inquires again, her gaze lingering. “No, thank you,” I reply, forcing a smile. “Typical. Tyler gets all the attention everywhere he goes,” Anthony groans next to me. “Even more typical, Tyler will deny any advances and end up missing out,” Sam chides. Their teasing is familiar, the banter rich and layered. It’s not that I’m uninterested in dating again; it’s that the exhaustion from a past relationship weighs heavy. My heart remains entangled in unresolved matters surrounding Shelby—the woman I’m arranged to marry—a future that seems more like obligation than affection. A loud laugh from Sam snaps me back into focus. “Prove me wrong, then,” she challenges. But I bury myself in my phone, determined to ignore her playful taunts. At long last, our orders arrive, and as we exit the café, a chirpy voice calls after me, “Tyler!” The barista rushes toward me, a small bag in hand. “It’s on the house.” Her cheeks flush, eyes bright with a shy grin. I glance down at the bag revealing a bagel slathered with cream cheese—the token of a hard-working man in need of sustenance. As gratitude passes my lips, I notice a note tucked inside, her name and number scrawled in swirling handwriting, a couple of doodle hearts decorating the margins next to it. “Look at you! A love note!” Anthony jokes, snagging the bag from my hands, his grin widening as he reads the contents. “Cassidy,” he announces triumphantly. I laugh, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and amusement as Sam rolls her eyes, teasing me from the sidelines. “You need to follow up with that, Tyler!” she insists, a playful spark in her eyes. “Sure, how about you call her instead?” I suggest, handing the bag back to Anthony. With a chuckle, he declines, knowing we're both too chicken to make that leap. “Your loss. She’s mine now,” Sam declares, snatching the bag back triumphantly. **SUNNY** Wrapped in the soft embrace of my hotel bed, I take a moment to breathe, cradling a warm mug of tea, the familiar scents feeling like a warm hug. Oddly comforting, the bags of tea sent by my parents serve as tiny reminders of home, a small comfort as I navigate this new chapter. I reflect on my day—filled with apartment viewings and uncertainty—but one thing is clear; despite overwhelming fatigue, I’m finally somewhere that feels like the start of something new. My past, cloaked in shadows, begins to recede, but the weight of memories still weighs on me. The apartment surrounding me is utterly bare, save for some string lights and a few essentials I’ve managed to collect. My freshly folded scrubs sit nearly forgotten beside the mattress on the floor, my travel backpack still packed in anticipation of tomorrow's orientation at the hospital. My heart drops as I see an email announcing the premature date. It’s been moved up to tomorrow. Panic rushes through me—are you kidding me? I sit bolt upright, glancing nervously around my empty room. This wasn’t how I envisioned my arrival; I’d intended to have time to adapt, to breathe. Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that calling home is a promise I made. Even though it’s early in Boston, it’s even earlier in California, but I know my parents will be up tending to their garden and chickens, lost in their morning routines. “Hi, honey!” My mother’s voice beams through the screen, her bright, blue-green eyes sparkling like emeralds. I feel an ache in my heart; how far away they are seems insurmountable. I wish I could bridge that gap once more. “I made it safe and sound,” I manage through the smile I bite back. They need me to be okay. “She made it, honey!” Mom calls cheerfully to my father, and he's soon in view—his tousled, salt-and-pepper hair and proud mustache eliciting a smile. “There’s our girl,” he grins wide. I fight against the tears that threaten to spill, hoping to hold it together for their sake. The last thing I want is to cause them more pain. I miss them so immensely already, and it feels suffocating. “Hey, Dad. Have you heard anything?” I tread carefully, the unease settling like a boulder in my stomach. “No, sweetie. The police are all over it, but it's as if Ryan vanished into thin air,” he reassures me, though his example is not as comforting as he thinks. I swallow dryly, wrestling with the voice inside my head that whispers dark, menacing thoughts—murderer. My fingers clench into fists at the edge of the bed, locking the hotel door tight against the shadows creeping in from my swirling fears. “But sweetie,” Dad adds, “there’s no way he knows where you are. He probably left town like the coward he is. We don't need to worry.” Yet I know better, awareness churning dread; escaping to Boston was only part of the battle. “I just miss you both so much,” I whimper through clenched teeth, feeling like a child again. “Sweetie,” my mother coos softly, “please don’t apologize. None of this is your fault at all. Listen, we’re safe, he’s gone for now. The most important thing is that you are safe, and we’ll catch him. That’s what truly matters.” “You’ve got an amazing opportunity,” my dad chimes in again, hopeful and earnest, yet the weight of my reality makes me feel unworthy of such praise. Amidst the crushing heaviness, I can’t help but feel engulfed by their love and pride. So different from what I’ve known for so long, my heart swells as I realize just how lucky I am to have this support. “I really love you guys,” I whisper, the phrase heavy with unspoken gratitude. “We love you too, Sunny girl,” my father responds warmly, and I smile through my emotional haze. “Tell us about the city,” my mother encourages. “When does your job start? Everything!” Their excitement infuses a sense of warmth in my heart as I slowly share the details of my new life while planning for apartment viewings. With each word exchanged, I feel a flicker of hope ignite within. Perhaps this will all be okay after all. **TYLER** “Don’t forget—we have dinner with Mom and Dad tonight,” Sam reminds me while sifting through papers in my office, her chair tilted back as she nibbles on carrot sticks. “Like I could forget,” I mutter, my frustration evident; the thought of another obligatory family gathering weighs heavily on me. My office overlooks the city, windows panoramic, adorned with hanging plants that are Sam's addition to this suffocating space. “How the hell did we end up with this family?” she muses, eyeing the mess surrounding us. “Your guess is as good as mine,” I sigh, pushing papers aside as I sense the looming campaign dinner hosted by the mayor at a local brewery. Our roles as investors mean we have to be present, and I’m drowning in the details of contracts, trying to make sense of everything. “Bet you a coffee they’ll bring up Shelby tonight. And they’ll definitely try to matchmake me with someone eligible!” Her hands wave for emphasis. “You’re on. I’d wager she brings it up the second I walk in,” I challenge her, already knowing she’s right. We’ve fought hard to distance ourselves from the suffocating expectations of our upbringing. Leaving home for college provided a glimmer of autonomy, but the family business still tethers us. The Caddell Firm is enormous, its headquarters encapsulating history and power in the core of Boston, but the truth is I’ve become my father’s errand boy, dealing with the dirt while he climbs higher in his political ascent. As the main heir, I’m responsible for maintaining his towering reputation. I sit waiting in my truck, staring at the old house that I never felt was home. Normally, Sam would be here with me, but she’s busy making art, a reminder of her deeper ambitions. Finally, I spot her purple jeep pull up, and with flowers in hand, I step out to greet her. She bounds towards me, face pressed against the window, and I can’t help but laugh, brushing off any lingering thoughts of home. “Coming or what, loser?” she teases, nudging me playfully. **SUNNY** I sit on the floor of my new apartment, a steaming mug of tea warming my hands. The golden liquid carries the essence of home—my parents’ love distilled into small cardboard boxes, a gesture that feels worlds away. Glancing around the bare room, I can’t help but feel a sweep of relief wash over me. Today was a success, the conversation with my parents a brief escape from my reality—little moments that make the distance feel infinitely less daunting. The emptiness of the space around me feels different now, breathing possibility, space for growth. My newly acquired scrubs are neatly folded beside me, and with every sip of tea, I try to ground myself in this new chapter. To ease my mind, I think of the plans for tomorrow’s orientation at the hospital. With uncertainty swirling, I need a distraction—the kind that keeps my heart from racing wildly in anticipation of shadows long left behind. Yet, even as I settle into the evening, I can’t shake the trepidation creeping through my thoughts—wondering if he’s lurking just out of sight, waiting for his chance to strike again. Should he be alive, anger burns brighter than any identity he had ever claimed. I have taken his greatest fear; I want that piece of me back. I left. A small smile breaks free, and for a precious moment, I reclaim the essence of who I used to be—Sunny, vibrant and full of life. Though tangled in chains of my past, I still catch fragments of who I was beneath the weight of it— beckoning me toward a future waiting to unfold.