Page 5 of The Run Back Home

Jace

The bell rings outside of GC Elementary at the exact moment that I pull into the last spot in the lot. By some miracle, I made it here on time from the field despite Golden City's usual traffic.

It's strange.

I used to know this city by stadium lights. By the batting cages, the nightclub on Fourth—the coffee shop at the corner. Now I've added school pickup to the list.

It's weird as hell, but I wouldn't want it any other way.

Stepping out of my car, I shove both hands into the pockets of my clubhouse hoodie and make my way toward the building. When I get through the front gates—past the security officer who I may or may not have bribed with season tickets to keep a close eye on my seven-year-old little sister—Vienna is already waiting.

She's sitting on the low brick wall that separates the walking path from the courtyard, her little legs swinging off the ledge, her backpack resting in her lap. Her eyes stay locked on the entrance like she's afraid if she so much as blinks she might miss me.

When she finally spots me, her face lights up.

She hops down from the wall as I cross the courtyard, slinging her backpack over one shoulder as she beelines for me. She gives me that same look she has every time I've picked her up these past few weeks. The one that tells me she's been holding her breath all day, and only now is she finally able to inhale fully.

That familiar mixture of feelings settles in my chest. I'm glad she trusts I'll always show up.

I hate that she's still so eager to leave.

I pick up speed, and we meet halfway, Vienna throwing her arms around my waist and nearly knocking the wind out of me as her shoulder slams into my stomach.

I wince, smiling. "Hey, V," I murmur, more to myself than to her.

She pulls back, hands already moving as she starts talking fast, animated—like she has more to say than she knows what to do with. Like it's been bottled up for hours.

"Can we go to the park?" she asks after a string of greetings and comments I didn't quite catch.

I crouch down in front of her, ruffling her hair. "I have meetings today, remember? I have to drop you and run," I say, her face instantly deflating. "But how about Thursday?"

Her smile grows slowly as she nods, and I gear up for my next question. "School okay today?"

Vienna shrugs, still full of energy, then pauses, her eyes darting away. "It was fine."

I nudge her shoulder with a smirk—same routine as always. "Just fine?"

She rolls her eyes playfully. "Yeah, same as every other day," she replies without enthusiasm. "Still… different."

I glance past her at the school—pristine paint on the exterior, sparkling letters spelling out the school's name above the glass-paneled double doors. It's exactly as it should be—as I hoped.

Safe. Stable. Permanent.

But for Vienna, it doesn't always feel that way.

"Good different or bad different?" I ask, repeating the follow-up question I've asked a dozen times now.

She chews on her bottom lip like she's considering changing her usual answer, but at the last second decides against it. "Both."

I nod, brushing her chin with the tip of my thumb, then slip her backpack off her shoulder and toss it over mine. She stares toward the parking lot like she's willing us to get there faster and, to appease her, I move in that direction.

Vienna's hands fall to her sides as silence settles between us. After a few steps, I tap her arm to grab her attention. "Tell me about your day. You had a math test, right?"

"Yeah." A flicker of pride crosses her face. "I crushed it."

I laugh. "Of course you did. You know, it would've been nice if you were the older sibling. I could've used that brain in college."

She smiles, eyes wide. "Then I could have been there with you."