We’ve been doing this dance for thirteen years.
But yesterday . . . yesterday I landed in Stoneheart thinking maybe the dance was over. That maybe it was time to stop running. My body tired of ballet, my heart tired of pretending I didn’t miss the place that shaped me.
I’d almost convinced myself. Almost believed I could come back. Be Stone’s daughter again. Belong here.
Then Summit took me. Within moments of arriving.
And that’s the universe screaming:THIS IS WHY YOU LEFT.The danger. The violence. The reality that people disappear in broad daylight around here.
This is what staying would mean.
So, I’m going back to New York. Back to safe. Back to smart.
Even if it’s not . . .
Even if it doesn’t feel . . .
No.
Safe is the only choice.
I press closer to his back and close my eyes.
The bike rumbles beneath us, and for a moment—just a moment—I let myself feel what it would be like to not go back. To just keep riding. To let the world fall away.
But that’s not realistic. Not safe.
That’s the kind of reckless thinking that gets people hurt.
I know better than that.
I do.
2
BONES
Emma’s arms are wrapped around my waist, and I’m trying very hard not to think about how right this feels.
Or how wrong everything else is.
Three hours into the ride, somewhere in South Carolina, and I still haven’t figured out what the fuck I’m doing. Taking her to New York, yeah. Getting her away from the airport where those fuckers snatched her, sure. But beyond that? I’ve got nothing.
Last night I had her. Finally, after thirteen years of wanting and watching and waiting, I had Emma in my arms, under me, wrapped around me. She moaned my name like I was her fucking savior and dug her nails into my back hard enough to leave marks I can feel under my shirt every time I move.
And then she ran.
Can’t say I blame her.
The tracker is a line I shouldn’t have crossed. I know that. Knew it when I gave the first one to her years ago, knew it again whenI shot one into her back that she couldn’t lose or break. I knew it every day since, and I especially knew it last night when she screamed at me about violation and trust and boundaries I don’t seem to understand.
But here’s the thing nobody gets: I do understand. I know exactly what I did. I know it’s fucked up by normal people standards. I know she thinks I’m some controlling asshole who violated her trust.
But it’s not about control. It’s not about deciding what she does or where she goes.
It’s about connection. About touching her even when she’s a thousand miles away. About knowing she’s safe, knowing she’s breathing, knowing she’s mine even when she’s living a life that has nothing to do with me.
The tracker wasn’t me controlling her movements. It was me refusing to be cut off from her completely. Refusing to lose the one person who makes everything else make sense.
