So I waited for the signal to change so I could cross the street safely, then went into the lobby of the station. For one wild moment I contemplated going up to one of the ticket windows and buying myself a ticket to someplace — anyplace — as long as it wasn’t here.
But I knew I couldn’t do that. Connor had abandoned me, but that didn’t mean I didn’t still have family back in Jerome. I had responsibilities, ones I had left behind to chase the false love that he’d offered me. I should call my aunt, have her come pick me up. Somehow I’d figure out how to deal with her “I told you so’s.”
No, that didn’t feel right. I needed to go home, but I wanted to do it on my own terms. And that meant not asking a McAllister for help. I needed to call the one person who always had my back, who would support me and let me cry and who wouldn’t guilt me for trusting a Wilcox.
I pulled out my phone, ran down my contacts list, and pushed the button for Sydney’s number.