Page 63 of Runaway Road (Runaway 1)

Brooks and I were sharing a lounge chair. When I’d moved to take my own, he’d hauled me down on his lap. His fingers idly caressed my bare knee.

“So?” Brooks raised an eyebrow as he spoke low so only I’d hear. “What’d I tell you?”

“It was fun.” I smiled. “You have a wonderful family.”

“Sure do.”

He was fortunate. He knew he was blessed. These people were genuine and kind. They’d pulled me into their family today like I’d been here for years. Like I’d be here for years.

Brooks, Wyatt and I were the only three guests left at Carter and Ava’s house. Everyone else had gone home about an hour after dinner, but we’d been in no rush to leave. I wasn’t ready to end this day yet.

We’d spent most of the morning and afternoon on the lake, alternating groups on the boat to go skiing or surfing or tubing. Once the boat was docked, we’d played lawn games, holding competitions in bocce ball and cornhole. I’d laughed more today than I had all year. I’d also discovered I had a competitive streak when it came to lawn darts.

After games, we’d congregated on the sprawling deck, eating a feast that Ava had prepared, forgoing some of the outdoor fun. Brooks had promised me that feeding us was her kind of fun.

Ava was an authentic mother, nurturing and kind. Today was the first time I’d seen one in real life.

This entire experience was a first. This family laughed and teased one another. When they asked about each other’s jobs or homes or cars, it was with genuine interest. They knew what was happening in each other’s lives because they weren’t only blood relatives, they were friends.

I hadn’t had that since the junkyard.

Thomas was an only child and his parents lived in Boston for a third of the year, at most. I’d missed feeling like I belonged to more than just one person. That if I needed help, I’d have an entire posse at my back.

I wouldn’t forget these people. I wouldn’t forget this day.

Maybe this remarkable family wouldn’t soon forget me either.

“I’m hungry,” Wyatt announced from the seat beside us.

“Seriously?” I asked. “You just ate a full rack of ribs, two ears of corn and half a dozen rolls.”

Yes, I was keeping track of Wyatt’s food consumption. It was fascinating, seeing a boy with not an ounce of fat eat more than I did in a week.

He shrugged. “But I didn’t get dessert.”

“Pie.” Brooks sat up, taking me with him as he stood from the chair. “Wyatt’s hungry and I want pie.”

“The diner?” Carter stood too, holding out a hand to help Ava from her seat.

“I hope they have a slice of pecan left,” she said, smiling as she led the way into her house.

The kitchen was state of the art, but there were magnets on the fridge, holding up art made by Carter and Ava’s grandchildren. Pictures adorned the walls instead of expensive paintings. The house had beautiful furniture, each piece top of the line, but comfortable. I wouldn’t be afraid to sit on a couch and tuck my feet up.

It was a home and the heart of this family.

And I don’t belong.

The realization slammed into me as I walked down the hallway and passed a collage of framed Christmas cards. An overpowering urge to get in my car and drive far away hit. This life wasn’t mine. I’d pretended today, but this wasn’t my family. It never would be.

It was time to go.

The urge to leave settled deep in my bones. I’d had the same feeling at sixteen years old. Again, at eighteen. Again, at twenty and twenty-one. And again, weeks ago, when I’d packed up and left Boston.

It was time to go.

I followed Brooks to his truck, hopping in and buckling my seat belt. Then I wrapped my arms around myself. Maybe if I squeezed hard enough, the feeling would go away. Though my mind knew it was time, my heart wasn’t ready to leave, not yet.

One more day.