freedom taste like you

Chapter 17

It's been a week since I've been staying with Emma and her family, and honestly, it's been... peaceful.

Quiet, warm, and nothing like I expected.

Timothy has practically made it his life mission to make up for his terrible first impression. Ever since that moment in the kitchen, he's been kinder-helping me with little things, trying to make me laugh, and even keeping me company when Emma takes me out to run errands. It almost feels like I've known them forever.

Still, today is the day we're supposed to visit a youth shelter. Emma thinks it'll be a good place for me to start over-somewhere safe and structured. And though part of me doesn't want to leave, I can't shake the feeling that I'd be a burden if I stayed. Emma has already done so much for me; I don't want to take advantage of her kindness.

As for my parents... well, my father tried to find me. Honestly, I think he's happy I left. Wherever he is, he's probably drinking himself into another bad night. My mother... I like to imagine she misses me, but she didn't stop him, so maybe she doesn't. I know it's wrong to have lied that they were "dead," but to me, they might as well be. Parents who make you feel invisible aren't really alive in your world, are they?

I sighed, brushing my hair at the dressing mirror. I slipped into a short red gown Emma bought me a few days ago-simple but lovely-and tied my hair into a neat ponytail. I looked... decent. Presentable enough to say goodbye.

"Amber! Ready yet?" Emma's voice came from outside, followed by a soft knock on the door.

"It's open!" I called back, standing up just as she stepped in.

"Oh, darling, you look lovely," she gasped, immediately pulling me into one of her signature warm hugs. I blushed, hugging her back, soaking in her motherly warmth.

"Thank you," I murmured when we pulled apart.

She smiled, but her eyes were searching mine. "Are you sure you don't want to just stay here with us?"

I smiled faintly and shook my head. "I don't want to impose. You've done so much for me already."

She sighed but didn't argue, instead taking my hand and leading me toward the stairs. "Well, let's at least make sure this shelter is a good one."

When we got downstairs, Timothy was already waiting, dressed neatly with his hands in his pockets. He looked up, saw me, and smiled softly.

"You look beautiful, Amber," he said, his voice warm.

I felt my cheeks heat instantly. "Thank you, Timothy."

"Alright, you two-let's go," Emma said, grabbing her car keys. Timothy walked ahead to open the door, and I followed, trying not to think too hard about how much I'd miss all this.

The ride took about thirty minutes. None of us said much-just quiet music and the sound of the wind through the windows. My heart thumped faster the closer we got.

When we finally arrived, I stared at the tall red-brick building with the sign: St. Bernadette Youth Home. It looked friendly enough-flowers by the gate, a bright mural of smiling kids on the wall-but something in my chest tightened.

Inside, the reception area smelled faintly of disinfectant and lemon polish. Emma did the talking, explaining my situation while I stood beside her, trying to smile. The lady behind the desk was kind, her voice soft, her eyes curious.

While they talked, I found myself staring at the big framed photo of Jesus on the wall, with smaller ones of Mary on either side. A Catholic organisation, maybe. I didn't mind, I just wondered if I'd fit in.

Then Emma's voice broke my thoughts.

"Amber, sweetheart..." She turned to me with a small, careful smile. "They said you can move in today. You'd just need to sign a few papers."

I froze. It all felt too real suddenly. The building that looked so safe now felt... cold. My hands trembled, and before I knew it, tears blurred my vision.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" Emma asked softly, worry lacing her tone.

I shook my head quickly, unable to find my words. All I knew was that I didn't want to go. I didn't want to leave them.

Emma noticed immediately. "Let's talk in the car," she said gently, leading me out. Timothy followed silently, confusion written all over his face.

Back in the car, the silence was heavy until Timothy turned around in his seat to face me. "I don't think you should go," he said firmly. His voice wasn't teasing or cold, it was gentle, sure.

"Timothy, it's her decision," Emma said softly.

He frowned. "Still. I just don't think she should."

Emma sighed and turned to me. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

"I am," I whispered, wiping my cheeks. "I just... I don't know if I can leave. I'm sorry."

"Then don't," Timothy said immediately.

"Timothy..." Emma warned softly.

"What? I'm serious," he said, looking at me again. "She doesn't have to leave if she doesn't want to."

Emma sighed but smiled slightly, her voice tender. "You know you can always stay, right? I meant it when I said that."

"But..." I started, guilt flooding my voice.

"No buts," she said, squeezing my hand. "You're not a bother to anyone, Amber. You've brought light into this house. My husband adores you, Timothy's clearly attached, and I...well, I can't imagine you gone. You're family now."

Her words hit me harder than I expected. I looked between her and Timothy, both watching me with warm, hopeful smiles.

"Sure?" I asked weakly.

"100% sure," Timothy said instantly, grinning.

I laughed through the tears that were threatening to fall again. "Okay," I said softly.

Emma's smile widened. "Okay?"

"Okay," I repeated, giggling when she let out a little squeal of excitement.

"Thank God! Now," Timothy said with a grin, "can we get something to eat? I'm starving."

Emma chuckled and started the car. "Pizza Cave it is! We're celebrating Amber staying with us!"

As the car pulled away from the shelter, I looked back one last time at the red-brick building fading into the distance and smiled.

I made the right choice.

For once, I wasn't running away from something.

I was staying for something that finally felt like home.