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I need to get to the door.
I need to get out of here.
I need…
“Miguel?” Mom’s soft voice stops me in my tracks. “Are you all packed? Do you need anything else?”
I turn toward her, giving myself a moment to take her in. Her dark hair is pulled in a bun, so it’s out of her makeup-free face. An apron is tied around her waist, the scent of spices spreading through the air from the kitchen.
“Yeah,” I croak the words out. Closing the distance, I pull her in a hug, pressing my mouth against the top of her head. “All packed.”
She pulls back, a wary look in her eyes as she watches me. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat and force a smile out. “I’ll be fine, Mom.”
Just then, the stairs creak, and my whole body tenses because I know Dad’s standing at the top, watching us.
“I know you’ll be okay, but I’m your mother, and I worry. This is the first time one of my babies is going away,” she murmurs into my shoulder. “Please make sure to take care of yourself and eat, okay?”
Her words have me chuckling softly because, of course, she’d be worried about me not eating enough. As if that was possible. But if you asked Margaret Fernandez, we never ate enough. That’s one thing my southern mother always had in common with Abuela Maria, my father’s late mother.
My chest rumbles, and I feel that grip around my lungs tightening. “Don’t worry about me, Mom,” I force the words out. With one final hug, I take a step back. “I’ll be just fine.”
I don’t bother saying goodbye as I turn toward the door and exit the house. Throwing my duffle bags in the back of my truck, along with a few other boxes I packed, I turn the key, the ignition coming to life. I had to work my ass off for a year straight, saving every penny I earned byhelping around the farm so I could get this rusty old truck, but it was one of the rare things that was all mine.
With one last look in the rearview mirror, I press my foot against the gas and leave behind the place that’s been my home for the past eighteen years.
The need to get the hell out of this godforsaken town is overwhelming, but before I can leave, there is one more pit stop I have to make.
Not bothering with the blinker, I turn down the familiar gravel road until an old farmhouse comes into view. The two-story house has been my home almost as much as my own has.
Just like the girl sitting on the front porch with a book clasped in her hands.
Rebecca lifts her head when she hears the car nearing, a smile forming on her lips the moment she spots me.
Pulling to a stop, I get out of the car and go to her, taking a seat on the porch swing next to her.
“Hey, Red,” I whisper, brushing my lips against the top of her red hair. It wasn’t one of those artificial bright colors. No, Rebecca’s hair was a rich, dark brown hue that, at times, seemed red. She described it as mahogany. I loved watching it under the sunlight and seeing all the different shades playing in her long strands.
“Hey.” She slips a bookmark between the pages, putting it on the side and turning all her attention on me. “How did it go?”
I run my hand through my wild locks, pushing them away from my face. “He told me if I leave to play football, I shouldn’t bother coming back.”
Rebecca’s mouth falls open. “What? Miguel, I’m so sorry.” Her hand covers mine, giving it a firm squeeze. “I’m sure he’ll think better of it and change—”
I shake my head. “I don’t think that’ll happen, Becs. Hehasn’t changed his mind in the last eighteen years. He won’t start now.”
Rebecca pushes me back and climbs into my lap, her palms cupping my cheeks. “You don’t know that.”
I love that she’s optimistic, but she doesn’t know my dad. None of my friends know him, not like I do.
“I’m not keeping my hopes up. If he wants to do this, he can do it.”
“Miguel…”
I cover her hands with mine, intertwining our fingers. “Come with me, Rebecca.”
She’s the only good thing that has come from this town. The only person, besides our mutual friend Emmett, who understood where I was coming from.
