Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Edward watched as the only real mother he’d ever known pulled Ren into her arms and held her in that big, warm hug that had been like oxygen to him once upon a time. He watched Ren’s small, tense shoulders slowly loosen, watched her arms finally come around Mary’s waist. When Ren started to cry, Mary pulled back, pushing Ren’s hair out of her face. Frowning in concern, Mary murmured gently, “Well, it looks like I got another bird in my nest. It’s going to be okay, sweet thing. We got you now.”
That night, at a new hotel in Atlanta with the same giant guards and the same looming questions about what life looked like from there on out, Ren pressed up against him again. “Kiss me” was all she needed to say.
Daytime was for therapy and self-reflection. Nighttime was for escape, and Edward was happy to follow her lead, giving her everything she needed. Because if the news feeds were to be believed, Chris’s house was surrounded by journalists hoping for a glimpse of a family member. They’d been mobbed by reporters on the short walk from the hotel door in Boise to a van waiting at the curb. It was becoming clear to Edward, if not to Ren, that there wouldn’t be a return to normalcy for a while. People who went missing and famously reappeared didn’t just blend back into society, especially when they were as recognizable as she was.
Their second night in Atlanta, she seemed to realize it, too.
There was a knock at their door, and the Fridge handed him a bag from CVS. “For Ren,” he said simply.
Edward found her in the bathroom, brushing out her hair, and set the bag down on the counter. “Fridge brought you some stuff.”
“Did you tell him thank you?”
“Uh…yes?” he lied.
With something between a sideways smirk and a glare in his direction, Ren put the brush down, gathered her hair in her hands, and slid the length of it over one shoulder. Then she pulled a pair of scissors out of the bag. With a deep breath, she looked at herself in the mirror before turning to him. “Will you do me a favor?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
REN
“Me?”
“You,” Ren said, and felt Edward’s eyes on her as she carefully pulled her hair back, securing it at the base of her neck with a rubber band.
“You’re pretty important right now,” he said nervously. “I’m sure they’d be happy to send a professional up to do this.”
“I don’t want a professional to do this. I want you.” She walked to the bed, climbed on, and scooted to the middle, patting the space behind her. “Come here.”
The mattress shifted under his weight. Ren could feel him hesitate, but then came the soft brush of his lips on the back of her neck. “Before I do this, I want you to know that I’m in love with you.”
A tiny firework went off in her chest, electricity sparking through her veins like a summer sky before a storm. She wanted to say it back, could see the words drawn in thick, black calligraphy in her mind, but no sound came out.
“You don’t have to say it,” he said, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “I just wanted you to hear it.”
She nodded. What she felt for him was more profound than anything she’d ever experienced, but right now everything was heightened. Everything was new. And, perhaps most obviously, the whole idea of love was such a scrambled, messy one for Ren. What did that word even mean?
“I want to say it,” she admitted.
“It’s okay. That isn’t why I told you.”
“I know…it’s just…there are so many things I’ve never felt before,” she said. “But I thought I’d known at least one kind of love.”
Edward sat quietly, letting her organize her thoughts.
“I’ve been working through this in therapy,” she continued. “What does love mean? Was love how Gloria and Steve justified kidnapping a little girl who lived across the street?”
From what they’d been able to parse out, Gloria—Deborah, she reminded herself—had seen a single father trying and failing to raise a young daughter alone. She’d seen Ren’s birth mother, Aria, messy and drunk in the neighborhood. In whatever reality she and her husband had created, they thought they were saving Ren.
“How am I supposed to hate them if they truly were doing what they thought was right?” she asked, voice tight. “They never hit me, they never abused me. In their own way, I believe they did love me. But how could they claim to love me while lying to me my entire life?”
“I know,” he said quietly.
“And then there’s the love Chris has for me,” she said. “I can tell when we sit together at lunch every day that he loves me deeply. That he loves me in that consuming, unconditional, instinctive way of parents I’ve only ever read about in books.” Ren closed her eyes, thinking about how Chris listened to her like she was the most fascinating thing in the world. Steve and Gloria had tended to her basic needs, but they were always so focused on their idea of what was right and best for Ren, that they’d never once asked—or possibly considered—what she actually wanted. Now, every day, Ren registered Chris’s amazement at her silliness and her curiosity, his admiration of her strength and grit, his pride in everything she’d managed to accomplish entirely on her own. He listened to her and valued her opinion. His love was as clear as a ringing bell in the crisp morning air.