Page 88 of Until August
“It’s okay, Sage. It’s okay that you don’t remember. Because I remember you. I’ve loved you since you were born, and I will always love you.Always. Nothing in the world will ever change—”
“Can you put me down now?” His voice was muffled, and I squeezed him before I set him on his feet and crouched in front of him.
Things had gotten heavy fast. I cleared my throat. “Do you want to talk about—”
“No. I want to go home.” He darted to the door and ran outside before I could stop him.
“Sage! Get back here!” He didn’t stop. Didn’t even turn around. If anything, he ran faster. He wanted to get as far away from me as possible.
My blood pressure spiked, and my heart was in my throat. I grabbed his shoulders just before his feet left the curb, lifted him off the ground, and threw him over my shoulder.
He pummeled my back with his fists, kicking and screaming, and if anyone were to witness this, they’d think I was kidnapping him.
“Calm down,” I said sternly, my emotions swinging from anger to fear to worry.
He let out a shriek when I tossed him into the front seat of my truck and held onto his arms so he couldn’t get away.
“Let me go.”
“So you can run away again? Not happening.” I kept a firm but gentle hold on him so I wouldn’t hurt him, but he couldn’t get away either.
He glared at me. Dried tears streaked his cheeks, but the sadness from earlier was replaced by anger. “I just want to go home.”
My jaw clenched, and I gritted my teeth, my voice low. “What were you thinking? You could have gotten hit by a car.”
“I don’t care.”
“I care,” I ground out. “You can’t just run off like that, Sage.”
He lifted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Why not? You did.”
It would have hurt less if he’d kicked me in the balls. Repeatedly.
“I didn’t leave you because I wanted to.”
“I don’t care. Just take me home.”
I had no intention of taking him home until we’d talked this through. And this time, I wasn’t bribing him with ice cream.
It was time to tell him the truth.
I had no idea if it would make things better or worse, but he deserved to know where I’d been for the past five years.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
August
“This isn’t my house,”he said when I parked near the beach and opened the passenger door.
“I know. Come on.” He didn’t budge from his seat. Stubborn, like his old man. “You have two choices. You can either walk on your own two feet. Or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you.”
He glared at me and crossed his thin arms over his chest. “Go ahead. See if I care.”
It was such a kid thing to say that I almost laughed. But none of this was funny. “One more chance, Sage. I’m going to count to three, and if you’re not out of this truck by the time I get to one, Iwillcarry you.”
He clenched his jaw and refused to cooperate. I started the countdown. “Three… two…. o—”
“Fine.” He jumped out of the truck and planted his hands on his hips. “But only for five minutes, and then we’re leaving.”
