My head whips to my aunt’s face, and my mouth drops open in surprise. From work? My uncle owns a car garage. He’s a mechanic.
“Come on outside with me for a minute.” He pushes his chair back from the table and stands, as does Aunt Liz.
My eyes widen. “Really? Outside?”Tell me they didn’t.
He nods and guides my aunt out the door ahead of me, his hand on the small of her back. With his head close to her ear, I can’t quite hear what he whispers to her, but I hope it’s something encouraging.
I’m sensitive to the fact that I shouldn’t be her problem. IwishI wasn’t her problem, but I see it weighing heavily on her. I hope she doesn’t break under the strain. Because for God’s sake, she lost her sister, too. The pressure to take care of me in a way her sister would approve of must be intense.
The wave of guilt that hits as I walk out the door and see a shitty old silver truck in the driveway is powerful. Damn, they are trying so hard to help me.
Uncle David runs a hand over his stubbled jawline. “I know she’s old, but she’ll still run for you. She’s got a lot of miles left on her yet.” He knocks on the hood as if to demonstrate the truck won’t fall apart on me. I’m not so sure about that. It looks like it’s older than I am. “Her name’s Ruth.”
Momentarily stunned, I say nothing. A breath finally passes from between my lips, my gaze shifting first to my aunt and then to my uncle. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“You’ve needed this a while. It’s not that we aren’t happy to drive you places, but I’m sure you’d prefer a way to get around on your own. To and from school. Out with friends. To a job, if you want one—no pressure there.” Aunt Liz grits her teeth.
I give them a smile, the biggest one I’ve mustered since Mom died. “It sure will beat riding the bus.” And really, it’s better than nothing. I’m grateful. I’ll have transportation, which is something off my aunt and uncle’s plate. “Thank you.”
Aunt Liz wraps an arm around my shoulders giving me a squeeze. “Anything for you, kid.”
I nod as I look into her eyes and see all of her worries there, plain as day. Sometimes it’s like a punch to the gut how much she looks like my mom—strawberry blonde hair, stunning pale-green eyes, a curvy figure. I have to wonder how I didn’t get those genes, too. I’m built like a stick with boobs.
I can’t say for sure if it would be harder for me or a relief to see her features reflected back at me in a mirror. My red hair, blue eyes, and thin build clearly came from my sperm donor, the ass who got my mom pregnant and then abandoned her.
That’s right—no one knows who my dad is. She refused to tell anyone. Except maybe him? Not really sure about that.
My aunt gives me another squeeze as she leans in and rests her head against mine. “Everything is going to be okay, Scarlett. You’ll see.”
I hope to hell she’s right.
Chapter 2
The next morning, I lift my foot onto the bumper of my new-to-me old-ass truck to tie my sneakers. I’ve always loved to run and was on the cross-country team at my previous high school. I’d made all-county the year Mom got sick and made it to regionals. I’d placed well enough to go to the state semifinals, but in the end, I skipped it because Mom was having a procedure that weekend and I’d refused to leave her side.
Apparently, someone had noticed and nominated me for one of the prestigious scholarships to Rosehaven. I have no idea who, as the offer had come out of nowhere.
I put my earbuds in, select one of my more upbeat running playlists, and take off at a steady pace. I’ve got an eight-mile run planned, and if I start out too fast, I’ll run out of steam before I make it back. There really aren’t any shortcuts to be taken unless I want to run through an overgrown wooded area, but that sounds like the opening of a horror story.No fucking thanks.
Aunt Liz’s house is located on the outermost perimeter of River Rock. The aerial view of the way the academy and the surrounding homes and community are set up is pretty interesting. Everything was built in a semi-circle around the academy, which backs up to a good-size river. Once you get past the school grounds, everything fans outward from there. Huge, mansion-like homes dot the first ring, followed by all of the stores and municipal buildings in the downtown area in the center. The outer ring, which is where I now live, is comprised of smaller, more modest homes.
I’m moving at a good pace with no problems at all until about halfway through my run. A stitch in my side takes my breath away, and I grimace, knowing I’ll need to stop running for a bit if I want to get rid of it. I’ve never once been able to run through one and have it go away.
A sharp jab of pain forces my hand, and I let out a little gasp, grabbing at my side. I hardly ever eat before a long run, and I silently curse myself for eating the big, delicious omelet Uncle David made me early this morning. I’d had a few sips of fruit juice, too, which is a big, fat running no-no.
Damage done.
With a sigh, I slow down to a walk, still pressing my hand against the cramped muscle. I bend over, hands on my knees. I know it’ll help if I breathe slowly and steadily for a few minutes. The last thing I want to do is have to call someone to come get me.
“Hey, are you okay?” A deep voice sounds from behind me, loud enough that I hear it over my music.
I whip my earbuds from my ears, jumping up and whirling around just as the other runner comes to a stop a few feet from me, breathing hard.
He’s at least half a foot taller than my five feet, five inches. The sun is in my eyes so I squint in an attempt to make out his features, but his face is in shadow. “Hey.” My breathing is still labored from running, and I wrinkle my nose as I jam my hand against my side again.
I raise my other hand to shield my eyes from the sun so I can actually see him, andholy crap.My eyes drink him in, and … he’s hot. Like,hot. His features can only be described as classically handsome—chiseled cheekbones framed by a strong jaw, straight nose, full, masculine lips, and rich, dark brown eyes surrounded by unfairly thick lashes—just like the models on the covers of the super sexy books my aunt writes.
“I’ve just got a bad stitch in my side.”