Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“It catches up to me!” I blurted. “It all catches up.” And then I’d have to start over, risk again, care again. No more excuses. No more temporary.
I wasn’t ready. Was I?
He laid his hand over mine. “It’s time to stop, Haven. You have to stop running. You’re dragging me with you, and I don’t want it anymore.”
My head swiveled his way, a ball of despair dropping inside me. “Oh, Easton,” I breathed, my face collapsing as a sob moved up my throat. I put my hands over my face. “I’m trying to protect you too!”
Easton reached over and gently removed my hands. “But you don’t have to. You already did. A thousand times over.” He turned more fully toward me, shifting closer. “Listen, I’ve been guilty too. I acted in ways that ensured I couldn’t stay anywhere even if I’d wanted to. I burned bridges so it wouldn’t hurt to leave.”
I let out a shuddery breath. “You didn’t want to come on this road trip, did you?”
He shook his head slowly. “No, but I knew you needed it and I wasn’t going to let you go it alone.” He gave me a small, weary smile. “I admit, I didn’t think we’d still be on the road two years later.” He paused, tilting his head as the smile dropped. “You sacrificed for me all your life, sis. And it was my turn. But we’ve been on the road long enough now. Let’s stay, Haven. For once, let’s stay. I like working at the firehouse. I think I might have a future there. I can see it. Can you? Let’s stay,” he repeated softly. “Even if it means facing the past.”
“I hated her, Easton.” It burst from my mouth like a grenade that had been detonated two years before and only now exploded. “I hated her,” I said, my voice choked with tears. “I kept waiting for her to be more, to do better, for us, and she never would.”
“I know,” he said. “I know, Haven. But you loved her too, and that’s the worst part. It’s time for us both to let it go now though. We have to try.”
I nodded miserably. I had loved her. Deeply. And though she couldn’t care for me, I’d tried to care for her. And it’d never mattered.
Sometimes I wondered if I had a form of PTSD.
Maybe from the fire. From seeing our mother dead—the reality of a lifetime of fearing just that.
Maybe just from our life.
The incessant struggle, the hurt, the never-ending trying that didn’t seem to amount to much. Maybe I’d thought if I could have just saved her, it all would have been worthwhile. But I couldn’t. Perhaps nobody could have. And I had to start accepting that and letting myself off the hook if I was ever going to be truly happy. If I was ever going to stop running.
“I’m afraid,” I admitted. “Anyone I hoped would love me left. Eventually, they always did.”
So how did I start trusting now?
Maybe by believing in myself.
By trusting a man I believed might be trustworthy.
Easton reached out and grabbed my hand, squeezing. “I’m not leaving,” he said. “You’re stuck with me for life.”
And then my little brother opened his arms and I fell forward, face-planting into his chest and grasping the fabric of his shirt in my fist, holding on to what felt solid. Easton held me as I cried, releasing some of the long-held pain and the deeply lodged fear.
Finally.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Haven
A buzz of voices welcomed us as we pulled the door to the town hall open. A few heads turned, some smiled, some looked mildly curious as they sipped from Styrofoam cups. I took a deep breath of the air redolent with coffee and baked goods, running my hands over my thighs. “Come on,” Easton said, leading me toward the table where three large silver urns sat beside platters of cookies and baked goods.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked under my breath.
Easton picked up a donut, taking a big, sugary bite and not bothering to chew or swallow before answering, “Yesh.” He paused, gulped. “The Pelion firehouse guys will all be here. There’s the captain right over there,” he said, lifting his chin and giving a small wave to the stern-looking man near the stage. The man gave a head nod in acknowledgment. “Might as well jump right in if we’re going to join this community.”
Easton moved from one foot to the other. His tell. He was nervous. He’d never admit it but he wanted to be accepted. He’d always been the odd man out, the kid who couldn’t invite others over.
The one whose mother never showed.
The one who’d waited anyway.
He deserved this. To make friends. To be accepted.
I was doing this for him. But I was also doing this for me. My nerves felt frayed, heart quickening with both excitement—hope—and trepidation. It had been two long years, and I was about to take my first big risk.