Chapter Eleven

Eleven

Shawn

When there’s a knock at my hotel room door, I hurry toward it, hoping it’s Lucas. The only other people who know where I’m staying are Mark and Shanna, and I don’t see them having any kind of reason for dropping by.

But when I check out the peephole in the door, I see Katharine Miller on the other side, nervously twisting her wedding ring around her finger.

I open the door and try to stop the nervous knots forming in my stomach. “Yes?”

“Hi, Shawn.” She tries to smile, but her bottom lip quivers.

“Are you okay?” I widen the door. “Come in.”

She steps over the threshold tentatively, like she’s not sure she should even be here. “I-I’m sorry to just drop by like this.”

“It’s okay.” I close the door. “You want a water or something?”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you.” She keeps twisting her ring, and a horribly awkward silence settles over us until she breaks it by saying, “I, um, found you through that little app on Lucas’s phone. I don’t think he even knows I put it on there. It’s a mom thing.”

She laughs a little, but it’s sad and watery, like she’s still struggling not to cry.

I let the silence stretch between us a little longer before asking, “Can I do something for you?”

“Oh, no.” She clears her throat, and when she talks again, her voice is a little stronger. “Lucas came over earlier this afternoon and told me what you overheard his father and I talking about the night you left.”

My stomach drops, and horror zips through me. “Are you serious? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything by telling him. We were arguing, and it just came out—”

She holds up a hand to stop my rambling. “I know, Shawn. I’m not upset with you about it. I wanted to come tell you that I’m sorry.”

That only makes everything worse. It’s not like she did anything wrong. “You don’t owe me an apology.”

“I do,” she says firmly. “I made a commitment to foster you, and I didn’t follow through on it. You ran away because of something that had happened in my house, the place I said you’d be safe in.”

I look away from her because the guilt in her eyes is twisting my stomach. “Natalie was—”

“Happier when you were there,” she cuts me off again. “It was my husband and I who were scared, and I’m so sorry that it caused you to leave.”

“It’s really fine,” I say. “It wasn’t the first home I left on my own. I was okay.”

“Shawn.” She waits to continue until I glance back at her. “Did you at least wind up in a good place afterwards?”

I think of the nights spent on park benches or rest stop bathrooms. The morning I woke up to find some guy pinning me to the ground and trying to pull my clothes off. The people I fucked in dirty alleys in exchange for money or a place to sleep.

“Yeah,” I say, though my voice sounds rusty. “The place I ended up in was good.”

I see it in her face that she doesn’t believe me. She presses her lips together and shakes her head.

“I’m fine,” I insist. “You don’t need to be worrying about me, okay?”

She takes a step closer to me and reaches up to pat my cheek. “You always were so good. I’m sorry everything turned out the way it did.”

I want to tell her again that it’s okay, but the words get lodged in my throat. It doesn’t feel okay. It still hurts when I think about lying awake and hearing Richard talking about me like that. It hurts to remember realizing it was just another home that I wasn’t good enough for. Realizing there probably wasn’t a home out there for someone like me. My scars and my nightmares were too much.

I’d tried to leave a note for Lucas and Natalie, but in the end, I couldn’t write anything down. Everything was too raw in the moment. And when I try to think about it, that same pain comes right back.

Katharine releases me and steps back. “I’m glad you and Lucas found each other again.” She gives me one more tentative smile, then leaves the hotel room, closing the door softly behind her.

Even after she’s gone, the scent of her perfume lingers, reminding me of that summer when I was sixteen. I never fully trusted that I’d stay there for a long period of time because at that point, I’d been in so many homes, I knew how it worked.

When I first got there, I’d waited for them to start hitting me, yelling at me, holding food from me. But they never did any of that. There was so much peace in that house. Then Natalie got sick, and it was like they didn’t know how to operate with that. Not that I can blame them; I don’t have any children, but I can’t imagine having to watch one of them having to go through something like that.

Still, it was the first home I ever really didn’t want to leave. Most of it was probably because I was falling in love with Lucas, but it was also because I started to feel safe there. I didn’t wake up every night searching the corners of the room for my dad or someone else waiting to hurt me. I stopped flinching when doors slammed shut. I’d started hoping that maybe I’d found somewhere I could stay until I turned eighteen.

Going back out on the streets was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It felt like I’d grown soft while I lived with the Millers. Everything was brighter and harsher and colder than I remembered it being.

And not going back into the system meant no food or shelter or anything. I’d given a couple of guys blowjobs when I spent a few nights on the street between homes, but after I left the Millers’ house, I did it a lot more frequently. In a twisted way, it helped me forget about Lucas for a little while.

I back up and sit on the edge of the bed, trying not to go back there. Back to the place in my life where nothing made sense except pain. I knew what to do with someone hitting me. I knew what to do with someone pushing their hand down my pants no matter how many times I said no. But I didn’t know what to do with the feelings that came after leaving Lucas and his family.

I felt so adrift and out of sorts. I hated that I’d already started depending on them in certain ways. Something I’d tried really hard not to do ever since I lived with my father.

Without really thinking about it, I lift my left hand to run it along my right forearm. My fingers catch on the scars that wrap around close to my elbow. I’ll never forget the fire that burned through my skin when that whip cracked across my back before the tip of it snapped on my arm. I remember crying and begging my father to stop, but it was like he couldn’t hear me. Or maybe he just didn’t want to.

I close my eyes when my vision blurs with tears. I hate thinking about that time in my life. I hate remembering how much my own dad hated me. How much most of the foster families didn’t truly want me.

Lucas was the first person to ever make me feel like maybe I belonged somewhere. It’s part of why it hurt so bad to leave him.

A sudden knock sounds at my door, and I wipe my eyes before standing. This time when I look out the peephole, it’s Lucas I see looking back at me. As soon as I open the door to let him in, he frowns.

“Are you okay? You look upset.”

“I’m fine.” I step back to let him enter the room, then close the door after him. “Your mom came by. I can’t believe you went and chewed them out.”

“I didn’t. Well, I guess I chewed my dad out. But…” He lifts a hand and runs it down the back of his neck. “It’s not her fault. My dad’s the one who knew you could hear everything they said.”

My stomach dips. “He did?”

Regret flashes in his eyes. “Oh, um, yeah. That’s why I got so angry when you told me.”

“You don’t need to be mad at him,” I say softly. “It was their house, Lucas. They had a right to talk about me, whether or not I could hear them.”

He shakes his head like he wants to argue, but instead, he takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine gently. “Why were you crying before I got here?”

I look away from him, hating that he could read the redness around my eyes and nose. “It was nothing. I was just thinking about my dad. That’s all.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” It was hard enough to even tell Shanna the small part of it. I don’t want that stuff in Lucas’s head.

“Okay, you don’t have to. I just want you to know that if you ever wanted to, I’d be here to listen. You wouldn’t scare me away.”

He’s quiet for a minute, as if giving me a chance to change my mind. I don’t

After a beat, he says, “I stopped by to see if I could take you out for dinner.”

My mouth pulls up in a smile, but I do my best to smother it. “Yeah, but… you know that after the job’s done, I’m still leaving. I only have a couple more days in Charleston.”

“I don’t care,” Lucas says, his hand still locked around mine. “I just want to be near you, even if we don’t have much time at all.”

His words are exactly what I need to hear, and they calm the anxiety threaded in my heart. But I’m starting to worry that walking away from Lucas a second time will be even harder than the first.