Chapter 6 - The Picture on the Wall
Five years later.
The summer sun was setting hot and golden over the rolling hills of Southlake, Texas.
The sprawling estate that had once been quiet and empty was now alive with the chaotic, joyful noise of ten-year-old twins.
In the backyard, a massive custom wooden treehouse sat nestled between two ancient live oak trees. A gravel path led down to a small pond where two horses—a dark bay quarter horse and a small white pony—were grazing near the fence line.
Garrett, now forty-nine, sat on the wide stone patio behind the main house. His hair held a bit more silver at the temples, but his eyes were bright, warm, and deeply at peace. He wore a simple denim shirt and boots, watching the lawn.
Out near the trees, Theo was running across the grass, holding an advanced remote-controlled airplane, laughing as it looped through the golden evening air. He was tall for ten, strong, his dark curls cut short, wearing a crisp baseball jersey with HOLLOWAY stamped across the back.
On the patio table beside Garrett lay a framed photograph.
It was an old, slightly faded picture that Garrett’s private investigators had managed to recover three years ago from a storage unit in Evanston—a picture of Sarah Vance holding her newborn twins in a hospital room, smiling brightly.
The glass patio door slid open.
Maisie stepped out onto the stone tiles. She was ten now, carrying a large sketchpad and a box of professional charcoal pencils that Garrett had bought her for her birthday. She wore a bright yellow sundress—a color she had hated for years, but had recently embraced again on her own terms.
She walked over to Garrett’s chair, leaning against his shoulder as she looked out at the pond.
“Theo’s going to crash that plane into the oak tree again,” Maisie noted, a small, knowing smirk playing on her lips.
“He’s got four spare propellers in the barn,” Garrett chuckled, reaching up to pat her shoulder. “Let him learn.”
Maisie looked down at the table, her eyes resting on the framed photograph of her biological mother. She reached out, her finger gently tracing the edge of the silver frame.
“Dad?” she asked softly.
Garrett turned his head. Hearing her call him Dad still brought a quiet, powerful warmth to his chest every single day.
“Yeah, kiddo?”
“Do you ever think about Gate 26?”
Garrett looked out at the rolling hills, at the horses near the pond, at his son chasing a plastic plane through the Texas sky, and then back at the beautiful, brilliant girl standing beside him.
“Sometimes,” Garrett admitted honestly. “I think about how fast people were walking past those metal seats.”
Maisie looked into his dark eyes—eyes that held no fear, no distance, and no anger.
“I wasn't scared when you sat down,” Maisie whispered, resting her head against his arm. “I told Theo you looked like a man who wasn't going anywhere.”
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Garrett wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her tight against his side as the Texas sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of purple, red, and gold.
“I’m not going anywhere, Maisie,” Garrett said, his voice rough with love. “I’m right here.”
