Page 5 of Wanted You More

Daddy?

My eyes won’t open.

I can’t talk.

I hear, “It’s going to be okay.”

Mom told me that three days ago when she found me hiding behind the bookshelf crying after I’d been uninvited to Maise’s eighth birthday party. She got down on the floor with me, stroked my hair, and said, “It’s going to be okay, Austen baby.”

It hadn’t been either of my parents that day though. When I came to, I saw a policeman walking alongside where I was being wheeled away. He had a dark beard with little tinsel speckled in it that was shiny in the moonlight. It reminded me of Christmastime when Wolfe and I would decorate the tree with too many ornaments, and Mom and Dad would have to take some off after we went to bed.

I’m drowning deeper and deeper into a pit of memories that has me sinking onto the ground in a fetal position, not caring about the dirt and grass bound to stain my clothes. I don’t know how long I’m lying like that until something touches my arm, causing me to jerk upright and try pushing away the unwanted contact.

“It’s me!” a voice says. Through the blur of panicked tears that fill my eyes, I see a boy. Young. Dark hair. Big hands rise in surrender from a few feet away as he watches me lying a shaky mess on the ground.

Slowly, he lowers himself until he’s squatting eye level with me. His hands are still held up to show he’s not trying to hurt me. “It’s just me, Austen. I thought I might find you here when Marybelle said she brought you.”

It takes a few deep breaths before I’m able to sit up, hands caked in dirt and pebbles, and wipe off my wet face with the back of my wrist. “Noah?”

Noah Kingsley smiles, but it’s full of sympathetic caution—like a warden approaching a wounded animal in the woods. That’s what I always was in the eyes of his father since the day he found me in the park, covered in blood. As far as I’m concerned, his son is just taking over since he got certified as an EMT.

At twenty-one, Noah followed in his father’s footsteps to make the world a safer place. He didn’t want to be a cop, but he wanted to make a difference. Save people—usually from themselves, especially when I’m involved.

Sometimes I wonder if his father, who’s newly retired, made a call to put him here, knowing that’s where I am. He’s always wanted me to be looked after. Probably because I was picked up by the police multiple times over the past few years. At least one of those wasn’t my fault, which I made sure to tell Benjamin Kingsley when he showed up at the station with that face full of aged wisdom twisted into a disapproving look.

There are times it’s hard to look at Noah because he looks so much like his father. Ben’s hair is almost all silver now, with streaks of the natural dark brown his son has. Their eyes are the same light blue, almost crystal. I hate it when they focus on my face because they watch me with the same flooded sadness and sympathy, like any second I’m going to breakdown.

Again.

Noah lowers his hands. “Marybelle is being talked to by the officer about what happened. Someone got mildly hurt in the panic, but otherwise there are no major injuries. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

I sniff back tears before they escape, dragging my knees to my chest and resting my forehead against them. “I wasn’t part of whatever plan she had going with Judd.”

Noah nods once, swiping at his smooth jawline. “I know, Boots.”

Boots.

His eyes move toward my cowboy boots, making my toes wiggle inside them. Every time he sees me, I’m always wearing some sort of boots because my closet is full of them. The first time we met was when I was eleven. It’d been three years since I’d met his father at that point, and we saw each other at the supermarket, of all places. Benjamin and Noah Kingsley stopped Dad, Wolfe, and me in the middle of the produce aisle. Right by the lettuce that Dad was trying to pick from. I’d been wearing bright yellow rain boots because it’d been storming for days, and Noah said he liked them. The next time we saw each other was when his father picked me up from the police station when I was thirteen after getting caught stealing candy from the gas station. Noah was with him, and I’d been wearing cute, heeled booties with little teal stitching along the edges. It’d become a pattern.

“Do you want a hand up? There’s no danger here. Just a prank that Marybelle and Judd are going to have to own up to,” he tells me. “She has to be brought in, which means her car is going to be towed.”

I blink. “But I rode with her.”

He extends his hand, not reaching out but waiting for me to take the offering. “I’ll make sure you get a ride back to your house. It’s not like I don’t know where you live.”

I stare at his hand, close my eyes for a brief moment, and take one last calming breath to collect myself. Instead of acknowledging the freakout that led me to take cover, I push myself up from the ground until I’m standing and brush off my shorts.

After he stands, I straighten to full height—all five foot five of me—and lift my gaze to meet his. “You need to grow a beard. Nobody is going to take you seriously with that baby face.”

The man in front of me chuckles. “There she is. Was a little worried there for a second that the Austen I know was lost.”

My nose twitches. “Never.”

CHAPTER THREE

Noah makes oneof the cops give me a lift back to the station, where he meets me with his truck. The same maroon-colored four-door that sits idle in my driveway, running quietly as I stare at the lit-up house in front of us. “What did Marybelle do anyway?” I ask, resting my head against the back of the seat and turning to look at Noah’s profile.

His jaw moves for a second before letting out a tired breath and rubbing his closed eyes with the pads of his fingers. “She and Judd set off stink bombs in the ballroom that was hosting a birthday party. Honestly, they probably could have gotten away with it if Judd hadn’t recorded them setting it up.”

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