You were barely ten years old, and yet you had no choice.

Your mother? An alcoholic. Abusive. Most of the time, you had to take care of yourself. But no one ever saw that. In the eyes of adults, you were always the problematic one. The lazy one. The one who needed to be taught a lesson.

The people of this town labeled you as “the girl who ran from her mother” and “the ungrateful one.” But deep inside, you were a survivor.

You were lucky, though. The night you ran away, you met someone who gave you a real home. Real love. A real life. You joined a circus that very night, and from being no one, you became someone. You learned nine languages—fluently. Played countless instruments. Performed gymnastics flawlessly. You found friends. You found family.

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Those thoughts were running through your lay here.

Ten years.

Ten years since the night you were forced to run away. Ten years since you swore you would never come back—and yet here you were. Trying to sleep in a house you hated with every fiber of your being.

She had left it to you. Your mother. But you had already decided to sell it. You just needed to take care of the paperwork. That was all.

After tossing and turning in bed for at least four hours, you finally gave up on sleep. You pulled on a jacket over your clothes, slipped into some slippers, and made your way to the gas station down the road.

You needed coffee. Strong coffee.

The first thing you noticed when you arrived was a black car standing alone, one of its tires completely flat.

The second thing you noticed—when you stepped inside—was a stupidly handsome boy- and hockey player no more-standing next to the coffee machine, looking like he was having the worst day of his life.

Tousled hair. Dark grey hoodie. Black sweatpants. And yet… he looked unfairly good.

You, on the other hand? Pink striped pajamas. Purple slippers. Hair pulled into a messy bun.

Almost comical.

You stepped closer, trying—at least—to act cool.

You: “Hi… um, could you step aside, please?” you asked.

Will: “And why should I, gorgeous?” he grinned—not mocking, just clearly amused by your appearance.