Page 4 of The Run Back Home

"It's not that unexpected," he explains. He picks at the worn, pilled plastic on the lip of the slide. "My dad works on cargo ships—furniture, electronics, stuff like that. He used to do just coastal routes, but he started taking international shipping before we left. He's gone for weeks at a time, so I didn't think my parents even had time to argue. I guess that's the problem, huh?"

He presses his lips together, then rolls his tongue over his teeth.

"Turns out he didn't even come with us—not really. I mean his stuff's at the house, but I don't think he's been here more than a few nights since we moved." He huffs out a laugh, still scraping at the beads of weathered plastic. "Now I'll probably never see him."

I part my lips, sucking in air, gearing up for a response I don't have—for a scenario I could never imagine in my family-is-everything-household.

"It's not a big deal," he continues before I can muster any words. "He's a good dad—supportive and all that. He caught a few games last season. But we don't have anything in common. He's all ships and sea, and I'm, well… cleats and grass, I guess."

I watch as his jaw ticks, then his eyes flick back to mine.

On instinct, I almost let I'm sorry spew from my lips. But something tells me that Jace Holloway isn't looking for sympathy. He doesn't need it.

"Wow," I say instead, buying myself time by taking another risky sip of water.

He waits for me to finish, his teeth still clenched as if he's bracing for the pity.

"Distance from your parents," I continue, setting my bottle in my lap. "What's that like?"

His whole body relaxes as he huffs out a laugh. "I take it you're close to yours then?"

I blow out a heavy, sarcastic breath. "It's not a choice."

He nods, the corners of his lips falling slightly. "That's nice, though."

"It can be."

Using my finger to trace the lid of my water, I try to picture what it would be like if either of my parents were hands off with… anything. If my siblings weren't constantly in the know about my life. If my dad left room for even the slightest separation between us.

"I think maybe that's just how Mage families are," I say, simplifying it. "It might wear off on you."

He smirks, then shakes his head. "Nah, probably not. And if everything goes to plan, I'll be out of here in two years anyway." He picks up the baseball again and positions his fingers around the laces before lifting his elbow and pretending to throw it.

I scoff. "Now that I'll never understand."

"Baseball?"

"Leaving."

Our eyes meet, and it's as if the world stops around us.

"Then why are you always running?"

I laugh softly out loud, but inside, my heart is hammering against my chest—anxiety I can't explain pooling in my belly.

"I should probably get back," I say suddenly. "They might send Ray if I'm too late."

"Your… brother?" he asks.

"The sheriff."

He blinks quickly as he raises his brows. "This town, man."

I press my lips together, grab my water from my lap, and stand. "I'll see ya around, I guess," I say, reaching for my phone on the bench.

"Yeah." He doesn't move—to leave or even to go back to laying. Instead, he follows my movement, his baseball still clenched in his fist. "I'll see ya, Lenora."

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