Chapter Twelve
River
—Three years ago—
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River held her dress up and ran across the school parking lot. The hairstyle she'd worked hours on so that she looked like the other girls no longer stayed pinned on top of her head but hung in disarray around her shoulders. She should never have gone to the Father-Daughter Dance.
Two weeks of dance lessons and manners were drilled into her for one mandatory dance that every female attending Rockwell High School had to attend, even if their father wasn't in the picture.
Her teacher used her situation as an example for the whole class, announcing that she could bring her foster father to the dance. He would be the last person she asked.
Tears blinded her, and she gulped air into tight lungs, trying to escape the reminder that her dad was dead. It'd been six years since her dad died, but tonight brought the raw pain she'd held on to so tightly to the surface.
She'd flunk the class for skipping the dance. If it were up to her, she'd quit school. What did the state think would happen when she graduated? That she'd become a doctor, lawyer, or teacher? She had no way to go to college, no way to support herself.
In less than nine months, she'd turn eighteen. When she graduated, she'd need to find somewhere to live. The state would no longer support her.
The only reason her latest foster parents allowed her to live with them was because they took the money the state gave them. There were six of them living there, and neither Kim or Bruce Reeves ever did anything similar to parenting—or working.
They let the school take care of them and were ignored at home.
She crossed the road and stopped in a vacant parking lot outside a real estate office. Dropping her bag, she scrambled to unzip the outside pouch and remove her cell phone. Then, she sat on the bag with her long dress bunched around her thighs and called the number she had memorized.
She hit connect and gasped for breath, unable to fill her lungs with air.
"Yeah?" answered Zane.
She cried, unable to say anything through the tears choking her. The relief of hearing his voice, knowing he was here and hadn't left or disappeared, only made her despair more heartbreaking.
"River? What's wrong, sweetheart?"
"I-I ran away." Sobs tore through her.
It was only as she said the words that she had a plan. She wasn't going back to the Reeves. She wasn't going back to a school that would punish her because her dad was dead. She wasn't going to wait another year only to find herself homeless without anyone in her life.
"Are you okay?"
"No." She hugged her middle and rocked on her backpack.
"Are you somewhere safe?"
She looked around, rubbing her eyes, knowing the mascara and eyeliner she borrowed from Stella before the dance was ruined. Soon, the dance would end. Everyone would leave. Nobody would come looking for her.
"I think so," she whispered.
"Tell me exactly where you are."
She inhaled a shuddering breath, trusting Zane. Throughout the years, he was the only one who cared what happened to her, and no matter what foster home she went to, he found her.
"I'm across from the school, outside Mountain View Realty." She looked toward her right. "There's a Taco Bell down the road. I don't know the street name."
"It's okay. I'll find you. Do me a favor. Stay out of sight. It's dark. You shouldn't be out there alone."
She stood, looking for a place to hide. There was a dumpster at the corner of the lot.
"I'm going to put Kingsley on the phone. I want you to talk to him while I ride over there. It will take me an hour, maybe a little longer."
Her stomach rolled. Being out in the dark, afraid someone would find her, scared her. She tossed her bag down and sat behind the big metal container, trying to make herself small enough nobody would see her in the dark.
"Zane?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you." She sniffled.
"Hang tight, sweetheart. I'm coming," said Zane.
She rounded her back and tucked her arms in front of her. She had some clothes in her backpack but was afraid of moving and making noise.
The hum of cars passing on the street before her lulled her into believing she was safe. Nobody would notice her.
"River?"
"I'm here."
"It's Kingsley."
"Hi."
"I'm going to keep you company for a little bit." Kingsley breathed as if he moved around a lot. "What should we talk about?"
Ever since she and Kenna were separated within the foster system, Zane visited her every few months, and Kingsley visited her sister. Except Kenna graduated last year, and Kingsley lost track of her.
Her sister was now eighteen years old, and River worried about how she lived independently and whether she had a job to support herself. The same thing would happen to River next year on her birthday, and the thought of going through life alone struck fear in her.
"Tell me what my sister talked about last time you saw her," she whispered.
"She talked about you. I told her where you were living, but then they moved you to a new home." Kingsley exhaled as if he were smoking a cigarette. "She gave me that sketchbook to give you—"
"I still have it," she blurted.
It was the only thing she had that belonged to her sister. She kept it in her backpack, hidden in a pair of sweatpants.
"Do you still look for her?" she asked.
"Every day," he whispered. "One day, I'll find her for you."
The tears she'd shed had weakened her. She closed her eyes and propped her head in her hand.
Zane and Kinglsey Stafford were the best people. Sometimes, she imagined her dad in heaven sending two angels down to look after her and Kenna.
But Zane and Kingsley weren't angels.
They were bikers.