Robin died before she could see me graduate. That part still hurts the most, but I pushed through anyway. For Robin. For the mother who never got to hold me. For the father I’ve never known. For the family I dreamt of.
And for me.
It took me years before I could work up the courage to look for information about my roots, but I had to do it. It’s been a clawing ache in the pit of my soul for as long as I can remember.
For years, I used to stare at the front doors or foster homes and imagine someone busting them down to get to me. To save me. Bring me home, and love me.
The places I lived were never particularly bad, but they weren’t good either.
I wanted more.
I wanted happy mornings, and cuddles on the couch. I wanted birthday presents, and Christmas trees like my friends. Family vacations, where I was actually in the pictures.
But most of all, I wanted the family in the photos. A mom and dad, brothers and sisters. Big and happy and forever. I still want it. It’s my deepest, and hardest wish.
A place to fit in.
A place that feels like home.
A place that’llkeep me.
And after a month in Heart Springs, searching for answers, but finding nothing, I’m not sure my wish will ever come true, no matter how many stars or rainbows I ask.
Chapter Twelve
Wildwood’s Most Wanted
This place is useless.
I should have just eaten the questionable banana I found in my car, and slept the hunger pains away.
It’s almost seven. I’ve missed lunch, worked through dinner, and my fridge is emptier than my social life. The Wildwood Market’s the only place open nearby, and judging by theflickering sign and split-pea-colored walls, I might be safer with the banana.
All I can do is hope the food is fresher than the decor.
I tug my sweater tighter and push my cart down the aisle with one hand while flipping over a box of crackers with the other. My stomach growls loud enough to draw a shocked look from a man comparing canned beans.
I don’t even care.
“Contains wheat,” I mutter under my breath, slamming the box back on the shelf. “Why does the world hate me today?”
The sudden burn behind my eyes has nothing to do with the crackers, and everything to do with the horrible day I’m having. I was yelled at by a client, had to drive two hours, back and forth across the county from one case to the next, and couldn’t find a single place to eat while I was out.
I’m so tired, I hurt down to my bones, but it’s the heaviness in my heart that threatens to split me in two.
The girl from the truancy case the other day, Tessa, wasn’t at school again.
When I followed up at the house, the power was off and a six-year-old answered the door in a T-shirt and no socks. She said her big sister was at work.Work. She’s fifteen. And they’re mom—recently widowed, was working a double at her second job, just to get the power back on.
I left them with two bags of groceries, but it’s a Band-Aid on a bullet wound.
They’re slipping, a family completely under water, and I’m worried I won’t be able to catch them fast enough.
Body sagging, I lean against the cart and shuffle through the store, desperate to just findanything. The basket’s already full of chicken, salad, and fresh produce for dinner and lunches, but if this week’s taught me anything, it’s that this new placement means I’ll be spending most of my day in the car.
I need safe snacks, and I need themnow.
After five aisles filled with nothing but broken dreams and stomach aches, I finally spot a tiny section of hope.
