She cut her eyes to the train station in front of her then back to the university behind. “Let’s just go in.”
The inside of the station looked like it hadn’t been touched in fifty years—but in a good way. The walls were covered with ornate woodwork, the floors some sort of granite or marble, buffed to a shine. She heard the click-clack of every footfall as people pushed past her, walking with purpose, knowing exactly where they needed to go. Riley stumbled backward, feeling even more like a child than she usually did.
Riley watched as JD strode right up to the lady in the booth. Within twenty seconds, the lady was laughing in a sweet, flirty way and pressing a ticket through the window toward him. Riley didn’t see him go to his wallet.
Riley turned and studied the train map so JD wouldn’t see her staring.
“You’re up, cupcake.”
Riley felt her eyes narrow. “I’m not your cupcake. And this is where our fun ends.”
An easy smile slid across his lips. “So you admit we’re having fun.”
“Miss? Do you need a ticket? You’ve only got seven minutes before the next train.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
Riley sucked in a breath and felt her heart pound in her chest. Why was I so nervous to buy a stupid train ticket? “One ticket to Granite Cay, please,” she said in her best fake-confidence voice.
“Round trip?” the woman asked.
Riley flushed. “Um, yeah. Do you know when the train comes back here?”
The woman smiled and pressed a train schedule and Riley’s ticket through the slot in the window. Riley’s hands shook as she grabbed it. Get a grip! It’s just a stupid train ticket! That will lead me to baby Jane Elizabeth—and my parents?
That. Is. Not. My. Birth Certificate. I am Riley Spencer. I’m not some stolen, milk carton kid.
But maybe Jane Elizabeth was. She didn’t know why she felt such a pull toward this baby, toward this mystery, but she couldn’t dismiss it. Even when she slept, the baby and the birth certificate hung on the edge of her dreams.
And this was an adventure—something she would normally never do.
Electricity spiked through Riley, and that was probably why she didn’t notice the guy behind her. She turned, ticket tucked safely in her coat pocket, and smacked into him. “Oh,” she said, feeling her cheeks go hot and red. “Sorry.”
The man smiled kindly, his eyes taking Riley in from head to toe. He had a fatherly air about him, and she felt that little niggling of guilt. “Going to see my parents,” she sputtered to this perfect stranger.
He nodded, slight surprise in his eyes, and stepped around her.
Riley pushed away, still feeling the heat on her neck. When her cell phone blared out, she thought she would jump out of her skin.
“Oh, hi, hey, Mom.”
“Ry, you were supposed to call me the minute you got off the bus.” Her mother’s voice was slow and stern, and dread dropped low in Riley’s gut.
Just go back…
“And then I reminded your mother that this was your first trip with all your friends, and you were probably just getting shoveled off the bus and picking up your luggage. Right, turnip?” It was her father and his voice was cheery and friendly—and it sent guilt pinballing throughout Riley’s brain.
She cleared her throat and edged herself into a quieter nook. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m sorry, guys, I screwed up. I was a little crazy because we just got off the bus.”
“So, you’re at the university now? Have you gone in yet?”
Riley turned and faced the university stretching through every window in the train station vestibule. “Here. Haven’t gone in yet,” she repeated.
“Well, have a great time,” her father said, getting back on the line.
“And be safe!” she heard her mother call from the background. “Don’t talk to strangers or wander away from the group or—”
“Your mother says to have a wonderful time and don’t run off with any boys or get any piercings or tattoos. At least no new ones.”
Riley looked at her shoes, wishing she could laugh with her dad, but the angst—and the guilt—was too tight. “Thanks, Dad,” she mumbled.
“Say hello to the ole alma mater. Love you, turnip.”
Riley’s breath hitched as her father mentioned the “alma mater” that he never attended.
“Love you too, Dad.”
Riley held the phone to her ear even as the line went dead. She was lying to her parents. She slid her phone off and jammed it in her pocket, feeling the edge of the birth certificate jabbing into her palm.
My parents are lying to me.
FOUR
Riley took a deep, steadying breath and turned her back on the university. “Sorry, that was just—” Riley paused then spun around again, blinking, confused. “JD?” She took a few steps, her feet echoing loudly on the tiled floors, reverberating through the high ceilings. “JD?”
“Hey.” He appeared behind Riley, and she clutched her chest, startled.
“I thought I lost you.”
JD quirked an eyebrow, cocking his head. “I was headed for my train.”