Page 119 of Wanted You More

I find myself hugging her back, and only then do I start feeling normal again.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

There’s an itchinessthat settles under my skin as Kennedy, Lincoln, and I approach the roped-off area where there are mile markers and signs posted along the chosen route of the run.

It took at least two hours of pep talks from the people beside me to hype me up to come. I see my father, brother, and Sue first, then Ben and Elizabeth, standing not too far away by one of the refreshment tables. Noah told me he’d be here too, but I don’t see him anywhere.

It’s July third, so I know why the buzzing feeling is nipping at me. It goes beyond the marathon that everybody is here for.

“It’s okay,” Kennedy promises, holding tighter on to my hand before pointing toward my family. “Look! Your dad sees us. He’s waving us over.”

After Kennedy came to my house, I told her about my mom. How much she loved to read and write, how my brother looked so much like her, and how Independence Day was her favorite holiday.“There’s something in the air,” she’d always say. “Can’t you smell it, Austen?”

I’d spared Kennedy the details of that night at the park because there was no way I could share them. With her or anyone. She understood. Then, when I told her I wanted to go to the marathon—for my whole family—she said she’d be there with me.

There’s something in the air.

When I look up at the sky, it’s like I can sense Mom looking down.

I take a deep breath and walk with Kennedy and Lincoln to my waiting family.

Dad holds his arm open for me to walk into, offering me a tight hug. He kisses my head and says, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Elizabeth joins us, with Ben close behind her, looking as uneasy as I do. “Hi, sweetheart.”

I look around. “Where’s Noah?”

It’s Ben who answers, gesturing toward the checkered line. “He volunteered to work EMT over by the finish line in case there was an emergency.”

Panic has me standing straighter.

“With one of the runners,” he emphasizes knowingly, flashing me a look of reassurance. “It isn’t uncommon for one of them to pass out or struggle after finishing their run.”

Taking a deep breath, I nod. “That makes sense.” I know this time of year isn’t easy on Ben. He saw a lot more than I did that day, and I can’t imagine how he could ever forget the gory scene I’d been part of.

Yet, he’s here.

Kennedy squeezes my hand once and then lets go. “I’m going to help my parents finish setting up the table. Linc, want to come see your graphics?”

Both Lincoln and Kennedy have been supportive since Kennedy slept over at my house. The next day, she talked to her parents about helping out at the event since they have connections with a broader array of people than most of the host organizers do. Because of them, and Lincoln’s graphic designs that captured people’s attention online, there has been a lot more media exposure that’s gained extra donations for the cause that have already doubled what was expected.

Ben nods for me to follow him, so I take the spot beside him and walk along the crowd waiting for the event to start. “You doing okay, kid? Feeling all right?”

Rubbing my lips together, I shake my head because I don’t want to lie to him. “I’m feeling anxious. It’s not about the event. My friend Kennedy’s parents are involved with organizations like Everytown and they say they’re great. It’s a good cause. I know that since I read about them. And the people here…” It’s hard to put to words. “They’re a lot stronger than I am for wanting to host this. They were there that day too. They have the same trauma as I do.”

Ben dips his chin. “That isn’t true. Everybody has trauma from that night, sure, but it’s not all the same. We all handle those things differently. There are some people from that night that will never show up here. They said their piece a decade ago and have found a way to move on.”

How can they do that so easily? Wipe their hands of the shooting? “Tomorrow marks eleven years. I don’t see how anybody could move on from it without looking back.”

It’s hard to believe that such an insignificant number packs such a heavy hit.

Rubbing my lips together, I click my tongue and glance at Ben. “Wolfe said something about cheating on Mom’s memory. Like if we move forward, it’s forgetting everything from before. And I’m afraid of doing that.”

He watches me carefully, not intervening as I take my time processing everything.

Popping my lips, I sigh. “I’ve messed up so much, Ben. I made some really bad choices, and every time I sober up from them I think about how disappointed she’d be in me. And when I watch life go on, it makes me feel bad for living it when she can’t.”

“Kid,” he breathes, shaking his head. We stop a ways away from the growing crowd. “You can’t think that way. The people who lived shouldn’t feel bad for being alive. You and I both know your mother would have wanted you to grow up and make mistakes.”

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