Page 156 of Run
After a while, I whisper, “You awake?”
“Yeah.” He kisses the top of my head and shifts his leg wider so mine falls further between his.
“How did you know? That I was at Axel’s.”
“I was at Fitz’s, talking to Lena.”
I stiffen. “Why?”
“I asked Lizzie for help finding your mom.” He must feel the tension radiating off me because he continues in a rush. “She did some research and found out the house you grew up in is in Lena’s name. Long story short, she found a name linked to some paperwork, and I went and asked Lena about it, and she admitted to knowing the name of your birth mother. Lena said she hasn’t spoken to the woman since she relinquished her parental rights, but she gave me the last known address.”
I’m quiet for a moment.
“I’m sorry, Ari. I don’t mean to drop this on you now, of all times. But I can’t lie to you.” Ethan rubs my arm some more. “Red? Please, talk to me.”
I remain still.
“Are you upset?”
I think about it. “Honestly, Ethan, I’m just over all of it. I don’t need to know anything else. I just want to go home. To our home. And move forward with you. I want to look forward to our future together, and I don’t want to look back anymore. I’m just …” I lick my dry lips. “I’m done.”
Ethan wraps his arms around me and squeezes tight. “Then that’s what we do, baby. That’s exactly what we’ll do.”
CHAPTER 50
ARI
We’ve been home for about a week. Ethan only spent two nights in the hospital. I’m not sure if he insisted on being discharged or if that’s all they keep you for when you nearly lose all your blood and need a transfusion and surgery. But I’ve kind of turned my brain off. Call it survival mode, but I just can’t process it all.
Neither of us has been back to work yet. We’ve been spending our days just being together. Cuddling on the couch watching movies. Ordering takeout and eating it in bed. But today I needed some space. Ethan thinks I headed over to visit the Millers, which isn’t a lie, but I’m also making another stop. I was surprised Ethan didn’t insist on coming with me, but he let me go without too much fuss.
Which is good, because I need closure, and it’s something Ethan doesn’t need to be here for.
I lower the radio as Jason Aldean sings about flying over states, and the gravel crunches under my tires as I pull into the driveway. I shut off the engine and sit in the car for a minute, taking in the scene.
Yellow caution tape is wrapped around the rubble where the garage used to stand. It’s a pile of black and gray ash, with beams sticking up here and there. I can make out the torched lawnmower and even the old workbench, but the rest is just wreckage.
The house was untouched by the fire. Whether that’s fortunate or unfortunate, who knows?
Exiting the vehicle, I walk around and lean against the hood of the car, shielding my eyes from the warm sun as I take in the surroundings. I look into the picture window on the side of the house and see the sofa bed I used to sleep on, the living room where Axel beat the shit out of me numerous times, and the hallway where Lena used to stand and do nothing. Sure, she covered for me here or there, but it’s not enough.
I can’t be angry anymore, but I still can’t embrace her either.
I knew she wouldn’t be home, and that’s why I wrote her a letter, in short, thanking her for providing all the bare necessities I needed growing up and for being the only mother she knew how to be. And also asking her not to contact me again. Like I told Ethan at the hospital, I’m just done, and I need Lena to know it. Ethan filled me in on the rest of the sordid story of how Lena has known all along who my birth mother is, and that opened an entirely new wound.
As far as I’m concerned, she’s as dead as Axel.
I walk over to the door at the side of the house and wedge the letter into the space between the door and frame, then turnand head back toward the car, but my steps slow as a conflicting feeling overcomes me.
Not all my memories here are bad.
The sun is bright and warm, and the breeze is blowing through the wheat grass. It’s short now since it won’t be ready to be harvested until the fall. As I close my eyes and start to pull my hair up into a ponytail, I can hear the echoes of our childhood voices—me, Ethan, and Fonz.
“Dude, you got moves like Elvis.”
“Can you ask Miss Vida to make those chocolate brownie things?”
“Hey, wait for me! I can’t pump as fast going up this hill!”
