The Taking (The Taking 1)

Since The Husband had taken “my brother” to day care, or wherever they kept him when they went to work during the day, it was just the three of us at the house: my mom, my dad, and me. It was exactly as awkward as it sounded, so my dad pretty much excused himself right away.

“How was breakfast?” my mom asked, watching from the front window as the van pulled away.

My shoulders tensed. I didn’t want to start this whole small-talk thing with her again. “Good. Fine.”

She nodded and went to the microfiber sofa that I hadn’t even bothered sitting on yet. I knew she wanted me to do what she did, make myself at home, but I stayed where I was, standing stiffly in the doorway.

“Have you thought about what you’ll do now . . . ,” she started. “Now that you’re back?” I wasn’t sure what she was getting at, and I frowned. She kept going. “You know, school? We should probably figure out a way for you to finish high school, and maybe get you started in college.” She ran her hand along the arm of the sofa.

School. I hadn’t thought about that. The idea of sitting in a classroom with a bunch of high school kids, even if they looked remotely like Tyler, was absolutely out of the question. I’d be a total outcast, even if I wasn’t twenty-one. I’d seen the way that Jackson guy from the bookstore had gawked at me like I was an oddity—the girl who’d up and vanished.

“No thanks,” I rebuffed her idea. “Maybe we can find an online school or something. Or I can get my GED and go to Skagit Valley.” The community college was a far cry from the kinds of scholarship schools my dad had once tried to shove down my throat. But it was close to here, and it would give me a chance to sort out what I wanted to do next.

“I suppose that’d be okay. As long as you’re not sitting around here all day, watching Judge Judy and hanging out with your dad.”

My heart stuttered, and I blinked at my mom in disbelief. “Seriously? You didn’t just say that, did you?”

“What?” she asked, getting up from her place and giving me a look that said she had no idea why I was so bent. “What did I say?”

I threw my arms wide and let out a noisy breath. “Did you not even hear yourself? Can’t you say anything nice about him? He’s still my dad.”

Pinching her lips, she turned to gaze out the window. I heard her sigh exasperatedly. I started to tell her I didn’t want to hear her talk about my dad anymore—not another word—but then she whirled around once more, only this time she looked ashen. Her face was masked in the kind of worry only a mom could manage. She finally looked exactly like she should. “Shit, Kyra,” she said. “Austin’s here.”

I wasn’t even sure I registered her words right away. I mean, I knew what she’d said—I understood her and all—but it didn’t sink in right away.

Austin, she’d said. He was here. Now.

I was suddenly more nervous than I’d been since I’d been back, maybe than I’d ever been in my entire life. This was all I’d wanted: to see him, and for him to want to see me. And now that he’d come . . . I don’t know . . . I wasn’t as sure.

Four days ago Austin and I had been destined to spend the rest of our lives together. I’d been willing to turn my back on scholarships and softball and everything in order to make that happen.

Then I woke up behind a Dumpster and found out that he and my best friend, the girl I’d grown up with and told all my secrets to, were living the life I’d always dreamed of living.

Was it really so strange I might be having second thoughts about facing him now?

When the doorbell rang, it reverberated through my entire body. My mom leaned over and whispered to me ninja-quiet, “Do you want me to tell him you’re not here?”

I let out a nervous laugh, but even that sounded too shrill, and I had to remind myself to breathe. “No. I can do this,” I assured her, totally sounding calmer than I felt inside.

Bracing myself, I went to the door. My lungs ached, and I was definitely light-headed, but there was no going back now. No matter what happened, I needed this. I tried to think of one of my dad’s inspirational quotes, but all I could come up with was something about “opportunity knocking,” which was totally inappropriate because it wasn’t opportunity at all—it was Austin, and he was standing on my porch ringing the doorbell.

When I opened it, my mouth went completely dry. Tyler had been right about Austin; he did look older.

His eyes were the same green as always, just shades lighter than his brother’s; but beyond that he was completely different from what he had been that night after my championship game, when I’d kissed him by the softball diamond, promising to meet up later at the Pizza Palace.

His hair, which had always been sun bleached and chlorine damaged from spending so much time in the water, was darker now, and his face was leaner than I remembered. Not sharp, but more defined, as if age had chiseled in the angles.

A part of me had hoped his new life with Cat would have turned him fat and soft and, yes, maybe too hideous even to look upon, like some fairy-tale troll. But he was none of those things. He was older and more matured, but he was also still Austin.

“Oh my god. It’s really you,” he breathed, drinking me in. “I thought . . . we all thought you were gone for good.”

He touched my face, and I flinched. “Can we . . . ?” He shifted nervously, and I was relieved he was at least sort of uncomfortable facing me in person. He looked past me to where my mom was standing at my back like some sort of Mafia enforcer, and his voice rose. “Can we talk someplace private?”