Page 49 of The Way Back Home

I hurry across the road and through the gate at the side of the house. The people who live here don’t have a dog, just a cat that prowls the neighborhood and lies about all day in the sun. He meows from under the awning and darts inside the open window. He gets a bit of a shock when I fold my legs into the window and climb in after it. His furry paw bats out at my wrist, drawing blood. I hiss at him and lose my balance, wincing when I land with a hard thud on the other side. My abdomen constricts, and I squeeze my eyes tightly closed and take several deep breaths until the pain passes.

I spot a box of Frosted Flakes on the counter. My stomach growls, but hungry as I am, I’m not here to raid their pantry. I glance around the kitchen and head into the family room off that, staring at walls that once held pictures featuring a different family’s faces. I walk the long hall and climb the stairs I’ve climbed a thousand times before, ignoring the third step because I remember how it creaks. I’m shivering from the damp clothes hanging off my body. I walk from room to room, searching, touching objects that don’t belong to me, and then, when I glance at my reflection in the mirror in the bedroom that used to be mine, I realize I’m the one who no longer belongs. My hair is limp and greasy, my face is gaunt, and my body far too skinny to fit in the clothes of the teenager who now occupies this room. I wander into the room that used to be my parents’ and I sit on the bed and cry for a long time. Too long.

Another biting pain in my stomach forces me into action. I walk the hall to the main bathroom and run the water so scalding I wonder how I’ll manage to sit in it. I lower myself into the bath and grab the cutthroat I brought with me, and then I slowly run the razor across my flesh. It hurts. A lot more than I expected. My heart beats out a sharp staccato rhythm. Fear prickles down my spine as the blood bubbles up and flows like ribbons from my veins. And I hug my swollen belly as the tears glance off my face and fall into the crimson water.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be the kind of mamma you deserve. I’m so sorry.”

My head lolls back against the tub, and I float. I’m finally free.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Olivia

“HEY, CAN I BORROW YOURtruck?” I ask August. I’d been tossing it over in my head for an hour so it may have seemed a little bit blunt just blurting it out like that, but the worst he can do is say no. We can’t work on the shelter today because we’ve found a live wire and all the electric needs to be grounded and rewired thanks to Old Man Tinker’s efforts to do it himself.

August leans up against the kitchen counter, but only briefly glances at me before he continues rifling through the giant bag of potato chips in his hand.

“I mean, please?”

He crunches a chip loudly. “Where are you taking it to?”

“Um . . . Jackson?” I ask, because it really is a question. Unfortunately for me, it’s a question that now has his undivided attention.

“As in, two hours away from here, Jackson?”

“Yup, that’s the one.” I smile brightly, feeling as if I’m losing him, but I’m desperate to hang on. He doesn’t smile back. “You know what, it’s okay. I can just—”

“I’ll have to call Miss Sue and ask her to keep Bettina an hour longer, just in case you’re not back,” he says, shoving a handful of potato chips in his mouth.

I move forward and take the packet from him. “You should eat something substantial.”

He screws his nose up, glances longingly at the packet I stow in the cupboard, and wipes his hands on his jeans. “What are you doing there?”

“My friend owns a shelter. She called about a dog that she can’t place. She’s a little aggressive, so I thought I’d try as a last-ditch effort. They’re a no-kill shelter too, but this dog is . . . well, she’s special.” I open the refrigerator and bend to peruse the shelves. Finding what I need to make him a turkey sandwich, I straighten and turn to face him.

August’s gaze darts away from my body with a slight flush of what looks to be embarrassment as he glances down at the floor. “Special, huh?”

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