Page 77 of Found By You
“McCrae, can you grab the ice?” my mother called from the kitchen.
I moved to help, passing Azalea where she sat playing with my niece, bouncing her on her knee while making silly faces. She looked up and caught me staring, her smile widening. My heart did a flip, like it did whenever she looked at me like that.
“What?” she asked, laughing.
“Nothing,” I said, unable to stop my own grin. “Just … happy.”
Her green eyes softened. “Me too.”
Every confirmation from her that she was happy here, with me, with my family, just cemented my certainty that I was making the right decision today.
My mother had cried when I’d told her my plan; then she’d immediately called all my siblings to coordinate. It was a miracle they’d managed to keep the secret.
I collected the ice from the freezer and brought it to the dining room table.
My family buzzed around, setting food on the table, arguing good-naturedly about sports, politics, the weather … anything and everything. Kayla was teasing Dylan about Eliza, Noah and my dad were debating something about fishing, and through it all, Azalea moved like she’d always been one of us—laughing at the right moments, joining in conversations, and then helping my mother bring out the roast.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, shielding the screen from Azalea’s curious glance.
Five minutes away, the text read.
My pulse quickened. I caught my father’s eye and gave a slight nod.
He winked in response, then clapped his hands. “All right, everyone, food’s ready. Let’s sit down.”
We all gathered around the big oak table.
Azalea took her seat beside me, her knee bumping mine under the table. She’d dressed up a bit today, wearing a pretty green sundress that made her hair look even more vibrant. My mother had insisted on taking pictures earlier, saying we were all dressed up and we needed pictures. I’d pretended to be annoyed by her fussing over us, but it was all in the plan.
My father said grace, and plates began passing around.
The conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and the clinking of silverware.
I tried to eat, but my stomach was in knots. I kept checking my watch, then the door, then my watch again.
“Are you okay?” Azalea whispered, her hand finding mine beneath the table. “You’ve barely touched your food.”
“I’m great,” I assured her, squeezing her fingers. “Just thinking.”
“About what?” she asked, her eyes curious.
Before I could answer, the distinct sound of tires on gravel came from outside.
A car door slammed.
Azalea didn’t seem to notice, but everyone else at the table exchanged knowing glances.
Then came the knock—three sharp raps on the front door.
“I’ll get it,” I said, starting to stand, but my mother waved me back down.
“No, no, you stay. I’ll see who it is.”
Azalea was saying something to Kayla, still oblivious to the way my entire family had fallen strangely quiet and watched the door with anticipation.
I heard my mother’s exclamation of welcome, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching the dining room.
Azalea turned at the commotion, her fork dropping from her hand with a clatter as she saw who stood in the doorway. “Greg?” she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper.
