Page 181 of Faking the Goal

Harumi's smile fades into something softer.

"He was hungry for affection," I say. "For any proof that he wasn't completely alone."

The words settle in my chest with a familiarity that hurts.

"I think that's why his story got to me." I force a small shrug, trying to make the confession sound lighter than it feels. "I grew up in foster care. I moved from one home to another, and none of them ever really became mine. Some were fine. Some weren't. But even in the good ones, I always knew I was temporary."

Kentaro doesn't move across from me, but I feel his attention sharpen.

"There was always this invisible expiration date hanging over everything. You learn not to get too attached to the room you sleep in, or the people sitting across from you at dinner, because eventually someone decides you don't fit anymore, or the placement changes, or you get sent somewhere else." I look down at my hands. "After a while, you stop asking for things. You stop expecting anyone to show up. It's easier to pretend you don't care than admit how badly you want someone to choose you."

Harumi's fingers close gently around mine.

That simple touch nearly undoes me.

I stare at our joined hands, at the warmth of her palm around my cold fingers, and swallow hard.

"When I aged out, there was no one waiting to tell me what came next," I continue. "No parents calling to check whether I got home safely. No one asking where I was going or telling me I was making a stupid decision. And I know that probably sounds freeing to some people, but..." I let out a humorless laugh. "It isn't freedom when nobody cares enough to worry about you."

My eyes burn, but I keep talking because stopping now somehow feels worse.

"So I did whatever I wanted. Partied too much. Trusted the wrong people. Made impulsive choices because there was no one to disappoint except myself, and I'd gotten pretty good at doing that already." I glance toward the Christmas tree, watching the lights blur slightly. "I think part of me was still doing what Naruto did. Being loud. Being reckless. Making enough of a mess that maybe someone would finally notice there was a reason behind it."

Harumi's thumb strokes slowly over the back of my hand.

"Oh, Taylor."

Two words.

That's all it takes for the pressure behind my ribs to become almost unbearable.

I laugh softly, embarrassed by how close I am to crying. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make Christmas depressing."

"You haven't." Harumi turns toward me fully, still holding my hand. "And you never have to apologize for telling us the truth."

Her eyes are so tender that I have to look away.

"You spent your whole childhood being made to feel temporary," she says softly. "Of course you learned to leave before anyone else had the chance to leave you. Of course you learned to expect nothing. Those habits kept you safe when you were younger."

She gives my hand a gentle squeeze.

"But you don't have to live that way forever."

Something catches in my throat.

Harumi waits until I look at her again before continuing.

"I cannot change what happened to you, Taylor. I cannot give you back the childhood you should have had, or erase every time someone made you feel unwanted." Her voice wavers, but her gaze remains steady. "But I can make sure you never have to wonder whether you are welcome here."

I blink rapidly.

"Harumi—"

"I mean it." Her motherly smile returns, softer now. "From now on, you come by whenever you want. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. You do not need an invitation, and you do not need a reason. If you are hungry, you eat with us. If you are lonely, you sit with us. If you need somewhere to go, you come here."

My chest caves in around the words.

"You don't have to do that," I whisper.