Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 47822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
“Thirteen.” I didn’t look up, couldn’t bear to see the judgment or worse, the pity, in their eyes. “Didn’t get far that first time. Police picked me up at a bus station two towns over. But by sixteen, I’d gotten pretty good at it. Never stayed in one place more than six months after that. Never went back to foster care.”
I felt the weight of their gazes, heavy as stones. The quilt had become a shield, a barrier between me and their scrutiny. I pulled it tighter still. “If I stayed in one place too long, I felt trapped. Like I was living life on someone else’s terms. Every rule, every expectation… they felt like chains. So I wander from place to place because it’s the only way I feel like I’m free to do what I want. I work where I want. I stay someplace until I didn’t want to anymore -- for whatever reason. Then I leave.”
My voice had grown smaller with each confession, like I was retreating back into that invisible girl from my youth, bringing unexpected tears I had to really work to fight back. “The first time I left on my own terms, not running away from a foster home but just moving on, I felt powerful. Like I finally had control over something in my life. No one to tell me I couldn’t, no paperwork to fill out, no social workers. Just me, making a choice.”
I chanced a glance up at them. Crush’s face was a mask, his eyes dark and intent. Byte’s expression was more open, analytical yet compassionate, like he was putting together pieces of a puzzle.
“After that,” I continued, “leaving became my defense mechanism. My superpower.” I attempted a smile, but it felt as fragile as it probably looked. “Any time things got complicated or hard or too real, I’d leave. New town, new job, new me. It’s safer that way. For my heart.”
“Safer,” Crush repeated, the word a low rumble. “But lonely.”
I nodded, unable to deny it. “Sometimes. But lonely is predictable. Lonely doesn’t disappoint you or let you down. Or try to control you.”
“Lonely doesn’t love you either,” Byte said softly. “Or support you when you need a little help. Or give you a hug when you need it.”
The truth of his words struck me like a physical blow. I turned back to the fire, watching the flames devour the logs, turning solid matter into light and heat and ash. There was a metaphor there somewhere, but I was too raw to find it.
“You know, I used to want a real family. I used to daydream about it. Having Christmas mornings with presents under a tree and birthday cakes with my name on it in icing meant only for me.” The admission tasted bitter, like admitting to a childish fantasy. “But dreams like that are dangerous when you don’t control any aspect of your life. They make you vulnerable.”
“Not everyone will use that power to hurt you, River,” Crush said, his voice gentler than I’d ever heard it. He reached out again, his large hand coming to rest over mine once again. The weight of it was grounding, an anchor in the storm of memories I’d unleashed.
“Some people are worth the risk,” Byte added, his expression thoughtful. His eyes, so eerily perceptive, seemed to see straight through to the heart of me, to all my fears and defenses and carefully constructed walls.
I shook my head, not in disagreement but in wonder. “How can you be so sure? How do you know who’s worth the risk and who isn’t?”
“You don’t,” Crush said simply, his hand still warm on my shoulder. “That’s the risk part.”
“But sometimes,” Byte’s gaze captured mine with intent. “Sometimes, you just know. Like instinct. Like something clicks into place and you think, ‘Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.’”
The way he said it, with such quiet certainty, made my heart stutter in my chest. No one had ever looked at me the way these two men were looking at me now -- like I mattered, like I was worth seeing, worth knowing, worth the risk. And for the first time in longer than I could remember, I found myself wanting to stay.
The cabin fell silent except for the low crackle of the fire. My confession hung in the air between us, words I couldn’t take back, vulnerabilities I couldn’t hide again. I’d just laid myself bare to two men I barely knew yet somehow trusted more than anyone I’d ever known in my life. Other than possibly Maggie. The realization terrified me yet somehow felt liberating. I drew a shaky breath, suddenly exhausted from the emotional excavation.
Byte shifted forward in his seat, the movement drawing my attention like a magnet. His eyes, so startlingly blue in the firelight, fixed on my face with an intensity that made my skin prickle. There was something different in his expression now. Like he’d made a decision or crossed some invisible threshold.