And now I was running again. But this time I was running toward something. Toward Rooster, and Bubba, and a life I’d never admitted I wanted. Toward being a father—even though I knew I wasn’t good enough for that. Toward being a lover, and a partner. The person to protect Rooster when he got that lost, scared look in his eyes. Toward a man who wanted to carry my burdens the way I wanted to carry his. Toward comfort, and shared beers, warm meals, and laugh lines. Toward home. A home that had a space for me, and all my broken brittle pieces. Where I was important. Where I was loved. Where I was
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