Page 152 of The Run Back Home

The aggravation reaches my throat.

"I guess," I snap. "But not for the same reason as before. I've always wanted to go to Alaska. That was my dream."

"Is," she throws back.

My brow furrows.

"I assume you meant to say that is your dream."

A silence settles between us—loaded and full of spiraling thoughts and words left unsaid—or maybe not.

Mabel has a way of doing that, talking in some sort of code that you're forced to decipher. It used to be fun—challenging. Almost comical between me and my siblings. But now it just feels like she's tricking me into a lesson I never wanted to learn.

We wander around that way—a left here, a right there—a dead end where I would have guessed an opening would be. All while I attempt to figure out what it is Mabel's really asking and she struts through the stalks like everything's completely normal.

After another five minutes, we pass the same rotted piece of corn on the ground that I remember seeing a few turns back.

"Mom, we're lost," I say, hanging my head back and crossing my arms over my chest.

"Honey, it's a maze," she says, gesturing around. "You can't really be lost when the whole point is to be trapped inside it."

I huff out a laugh, my tongue finding the inside of my cheek. "Wow," I say, looking toward the sky. "That is so spot on it's… terrifying."

Mom spins back in my direction, her voice strong and steady. "What was that, dear?"

"Nothing," I say, tucking my hair behind my ears.

"No, go on." Her eyes widen like she's anticipating my answer. "Say it."

I hesitate, already wishing I could swallow the words back down. Inhaling deeply, I press a lump of dirt into the ground with the toe of my sneaker. When I look up, I find Mom wearing the same expression I've seen a million times before. One that says the world could collapse around us, but we're not moving on until we finish this conversation.

I blow a heavy breath through my lips, then stand up straighter like I'm preparing for battle.

And I might be.

"I was trapped my whole life, Mom," I say. "In Mage. In our house."

She flinches slightly, but waits for more.

I gesture vaguely around us, the path feeling tighter than it did before. "And I was convinced that was the point. Stay close. Never leave. Put all your eggs in our big family, small-town basket."

I watch as she tries to keep her face from dropping. Stepping forward, I take her hand.

"Trapped is the wrong word," I admit. "But you know what I mean. I didn't stay all those years because I loved Mage more than anywhere else—more than him." My thumb rubs across her knuckles while I swallow down the emotion that's building in my throat. "I stayed because I never saw leaving as an option—was never taught how to do it even if I did."

Her eyes gloss over, and for Mabel to have nothing to say… says everything.

"No one ever said it outright," I add quickly. "I'm not even sure I realized it until after I left. But everything here says the same thing—you grow up, you stay close, you build your life around the people who've always been there. So leaving felt… scary. Like if I did, I might not even survive outside of this little bubble we live in."

"But you did disappear," she says softly.

Her first words—only four. But they say what she's wanted to for years.

"I didn't mean to," I mutter. "I just… I had to go. I had to get away from all of it—the memories of him, the resentment of staying. I had to start over. To finally choose my own path—not Jace's life at CMU, not yours or Bridget's here in Mage. Not the one expected of me."

Her grip on my hand tightens. "And do you feel like you've done that?"

I stare into her eyes like they might give me the answer that should so easily fall from my lips.