Tethered (Book Two of The Invisible String Series)

The Runaway: Part Two

Debbie nods, flashing another small smile at me just before she leans across the table and settles her hands on top of my folded ones. "Okay. If you need anything else before you head out, just let me know. And don't worry about the coffee, it's on the house."

I quietly thank the woman as she moves away, watching as she poured some more coffee into the middle-aged man at the counter's cup for a few moments before I slide my phone in my direction. Now that the device is a little charged I'm hoping I can figure out where I am.

There's about a thousand and one notifications on my home screen, and I dismiss the ones from Nancy almost immediately. I definitely don't feel like talking to her right now. What surprises me, though, are the missed calls and messages I have from Y/N and Lizzie. Nancy must have called them sometime after the group home reported me as missing.

Why the hell would Nancy call them, though?

I feel slightly guilty, knowing that they might be worried about me, but quickly shove the guilt down.I'm also not in the mood to talk to either one of them right now either, so I swipe them all away and instead pull up the navigation app on my phone, entering the diner's name in to try and figure out where I am.

As I zoom out a little farther out on the map, I let out a sigh. I definitely got off the bus at the wrong stop, because I've somehow managed to find myself just outside of West Hollywood, and that's definitely not where I wanted to be.

It's too long of a walk back to the group home, and I don't have enough money on me to try and take the bus back, so that doesn't leave me with very many options. I could try and call Nancy, but it suddenly occurs to me that she lives over in Pasadena. And as much as I like annoying her, it's too early to ask her to drive all the way out here to get me. So that just leaves...

Letting out another sigh, I exit out of the app and pull my contacts, scrolling down until I come across a familiar number and hit the message option, making sure to attach my location to it.

Can u come pick me up?

I anxiously await the response, unsure of how Y/N was going to react to it. I haven't bothered to listen to any of the voicemails anyone has left me, but I did get a glance at one or two of the texts she'd sent me. I should have made sure to let someone know I was okay earlier.

The text switches over from "sent" to "read" and I hold my breath, watching as those three little bubbles pop up and disappear a few times before disappearing completely, causing me to frown. She wasn't going to just leave me out here, was she?

Thankfully, a few seconds later, a reply comes through and I feel myself relax a little. It's just a simple message that reads on my way, but it causes my stomach to lurch uncomfortably. I'd expected an angry response, maybe even a phone call demanding answers, but not this. Its simplicity makes me nervous. I don't know how to gauge Y/N's reaction, and not knowing what was awaiting me has me rethinking reaching out to her to begin with.

I spend the next forty minutes or so anxiously tapping my foot against the diner's tiled floor, staring out into the parking lot and waiting to see headlights pull in. Eventually a pair does, and I hold my breath as I watch Y/N quickly exit the car and make her way inside.

She stops just as she enters, glancing around the diner until her eyes land on me, and I know I visibly wince upon seeing the anger on her face. I try and ready myself as she starts in my direction, sliding out of the booth and anxiously fiddling with the strap of my bag. I'm surprised, though, when she reaches me and pulls me into a bone-crushing hug.

I stand there awkwardly for a few seconds before relaxing into the older woman's embrace, leaning my head against her shoulder as I try and soak up the comfort she brings me.