That’s when I heard her.

I heard Hope yelling my name. I spun around and stood on my tiptoes, facing the sound of her voice.

“Dean!” she yelled. She sounded really far away, but I knew it was her because she said it with that accent of hers. She always dragged out the middle of my name and made it longer than one syllable. I always liked how she said my name, so hearing her yell it, I knew it was her. She must have spotted me and now she was trying to call for me to come help her.

“Dean,” she yelled again, only this time she sounded farther away. I could hear the panic in her voice. I began to panic myself, because I knew I’d get in trouble if I lost my place in line. Mom and Dad spent the entire week before we left reminding us to stay by one of them at all times.

I glanced over at Mom but she wasn’t looking at me, she was watching you and Dad on the ride. I didn’t know what to do, because she wouldn’t know where I was if I left the line. But as soon as Hope screamed my name again I didn’t care. I had to find her.

I started running toward the back of the line—toward the sound of her voice. I was yelling her name, hoping she would hear me and walk toward the sound of my voice.

God, Les. I was so excited. I was terrified and excited and knew that all our prayers had been answered, but it was up to me to hurry up and find her and I was scared I wouldn’t be able to. She was here and I couldn’t get to her fast enough.

I had it all planned out in my head. As soon as I found her, I would hug the hell out of her first, then I was going to grab her hands and pull her back to where Mom was standing. We were going to wait by the exit to the ride so when you walked off, she would be the first thing you would see.

I knew how happy you were going to be when you saw her. Neither of us had been truly happy in the two years since she was taken and this was our chance. After all, Disneyland is the happiest place on earth, and for the first time, I was starting to believe it.

“Hope!” I yelled, cupping my hands around my mouth. I had been running for several minutes, still trying to listen for the sound of her voice. She would yell my name, then I would yell her name, and this went on for what felt like forever until someone grabbed my arm and yanked it, stopping me in my tracks. Mom threw her arms around me and hugged me, but I was trying to get out of her grasp.

“Dean, you can’t run off like that!” she said. She was kneeling down, shaking my shoulders, looking me frantically in the eyes. “I thought I lost you.”

I pulled away from her and tried to keep running toward Hope, but Mom wouldn’t let go of my shoulders. “Stop it!” she said, confused why I was trying to get away from her.

I looked back at her in a panic and shook my head vigorously, trying to catch my breath and find the words. “It’s . . .” I pointed toward the direction I wanted to run. “It’s Hope, Mom! I found Hope! We have to go to her before I lose her again.”

Sadness instantly reached her eyes and I knew she didn’t believe me. “Dean,” she whispered, shaking her head sympathetically. “Sweetie.”

She felt sorry for me. She didn’t believe me, because this wasn’t the first time I thought I’d found her. But I knew I was right this time. I knew it.

“Dean!” Hope cried again. “Where are you?” She was much closer this time and I could tell by the sound of her voice that she was crying now. Mom’s eyes darted toward the voice and I knew she heard her calling for me, too.

“We have to find her, Mom,” I pleaded. “It’s her. That’s Hope.”

Mom looked me in the eyes and I could see the fear in them. She nodded, then grabbed my hand.

“Hope?” she yelled, scanning over the crowd. We were both calling her name now and I remember looking up at Mom at one point, watching her while she helped me search. I loved her more than I ever had in that moment, because she actually believed me.

We heard my name called again and it was so much closer this time. Mom looked down at me and her eyes were wide. We both broke out into a run toward the sound of Hope’s voice. We pushed through the crowd and . . . that’s when I saw her. Her back was to us and she was standing all by herself.

“Dean!” she yelled again.

Mom and I were both frozen. We couldn’t believe it. She was standing right in front of us, looking for me. After two years of not knowing who took her or where she was, we had finally found her. I started to walk forward, but I was suddenly shoved aside by a teenage boy rushing toward her. When he reached her, he grabbed her by the arm and spun her around.

“Ashley! Thank God!” he said, pulling her to him.

“Dean,” she said to the boy, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I got lost.”

He picked her up. “I know, sis. I’m so sorry. You’re okay now.”

She pulled her tear-streaked face away from his chest and she glanced in our direction.

She wasn’t Hope.

She wasn’t Hope at all.

And I wasn’t the Dean she was looking for.

Mom squeezed my hand and knelt down in front of me. “I’m so sorry, Dean,” she said. “I thought it was her, too.”

A sob broke free from my chest and I cried. I cried so damn hard, Les. Mom wrapped her arms around me and she started crying, too, because I don’t think she knew that an eight-year-old could have his heart crushed like that.

But I was crushed. My heart broke all over again that day.

And I never wanted to hear the name Dean again.

H

Chapter Sixteen

I practically skip down the stairs and into the kitchen. It’s the second Monday of school and just thinking about my attitude when I woke up last week as opposed to this morning makes me laugh. I never in a million years imagined I’d be so consumed with the thought of a girl as I have been. Since the second I left her house Saturday night, I’ve done nothing but eat, breathe, and sleep with her on my mind.

“So how are you liking Sky?” my mom asks. She’s seated at the kitchen table eating her breakfast and reading the paper. I’m surprised she remembers her name. I only mentioned her once. I shut the refrigerator door and walk to the bar.

“She’s great,” I say. “I like her a lot.”

My mom puts down the paper and cocks her head. “She?” she says with an arched eyebrow. I don’t understand her confusion. I just stare at her until she shakes her head and laughs. “Oh, Jesus,” she says. “You’ve got it bad.”

Still confused. “What do you mean? You asked how I liked Sky and I answered you.”

She’s laughing even harder now. “I said school, Holder. I asked how you were liking school.”

Oh.

Maybe I do have it bad.

“Shut up.” I laugh, embarrassed.

She stops laughing and picks the newspaper up, holding it out in front of her. I grab my drink and my backpack and head toward the door. “Well?” she asks. “How do you like school?”

I roll my eyes at her. “It’s fine,” I say, backing out of the kitchen. “But I like Sky more.”

I walk to the car and shove my backpack inside. I wish I had thought to offer to pick her up today, but after spending most of Sunday texting back and forth, we agreed that we would take things slow. We decided not to run together in the mornings. She said it would be too much, too soon, and I definitely want to keep it at her pace, so I agreed. However, I can’t deny the fact that I was a little disappointed that she wants to run alone. I want to be around her every second of the day, but I also know she’s right. We spent one weekend together and it already feels like I’ve connected with her on a much deeper level than with any other girl I’ve dated. It’s a good feeling, but it also scares the hell out of me.

Before I back out of the driveway, I pull my phone out and text her.

I don’t know if your ego needs deflating today. I’ll judge for myself when I finally get to see you in fifteen minutes.

I set my phone down and back out of the driveway. When I make it to the first stop sign, I pick my phone back up and text her again.

Fourteen minutes.

I keep the phone in my hand and text her again when another minute has passed.

Thirteen minutes.

I do this every minute until I pull into the school parking lot and all the minutes have passed.

When I reach the classroom I peek through the window of the door. She’s seated in the back of the room next to a conveniently empty desk. My pulse kicks up a notch just from seeing her again. I open the door and walk inside and her face immediately lights up with a smile as soon as she sees me.

I reach the back of the room and begin to lay my backpack down on the empty desk at the same time some dude tries to set his drinks down. I look at him and he looks at me, then we both look at Sky, because I don’t want to shove him away until she gives me permission.

“Looks like we have quite the predicament here, boys,” she says with an adorable grin. She looks at the coffee being held in the hands of the guy standing next to me. “I see the Mormon brought the queen her offering of coffee. Very impressive.” She looks at me and arches an eyebrow. “Do you wish to reveal your offering, hopeless boy, so that I may decide who shall accompany me at the classroom throne today?”

She’s teasing me. I love it. And now that I think about it, this must be the guy she’s been sitting with at lunch all week. One look at his hot pink shoes and matching pants relieves me of any worry that he’s about to become my competition.

I pick up my backpack and let him have the seat. “Looks like someone’s in need of an ego-shattering text today.” I take an empty seat in the row in front of her.