A/N: I wanted to go ahead and get the first chapter posted for you all! Thanks for the follows/and favorites so far!

Due to work and school taking precedence, I'll try to update at least weekly (it may sometimes be bi-weekly, but it just depends on my schedule).

Something to note: I picture Adam Beach as Rafe Acuna and Amber Midthunder as Lindy Sampson.

P.S. Cover for the story is made by me. :)

Enjoy!

{Lindy}

When I'm running I can almost feel my dad at my side.

He's been gone for nearly six years, but every time I lace up and slap sole to pavement I feel like he's right there. I can feel him talking about my inner strength and how I will be a world-class athlete when I grow up. That's part of why I love running—why I'm running right now, pushing myself a little harder than usual to win this race.

This isn't just any race—it's the final race of the UF cross-country winter camp. Every winner of this race for the last seven years has wound up with a full scholarship offer. Since the University of Florida is the only college I've ever considered attending, I plan on winning this race.

With the nearest runner almost fifty yards back, I'm not worried.

The finish line comes into sight. Dozens of people are waiting—coaches and trainers from the camp, campers who competed in the shorter races, parents, and friends. As I get closer I see Hannah and Paige—my two best friends—cheering like crazy. They've never missed one of my races.

I'm closing in on thirty yards.

Twenty yards.

Victory is guaranteed. I pull up a little bit, not really slowing down but relaxing enough to let my body begin its recovery.

That's when I see Mom.

She's standing with Hannah and Paige, smiling like I've never seen her smile—at least not in the last six years.

Why is she here?

It's not that Mom doesn't come to my races, but she wasn't supposed to be at this race. She's supposed to be up in northwestern Washington, on the small Quileute reservation known as La Push, getting to know Dad's extended family at some reunion while I'm at cross-country camp. Trust me, the choice between running eight hours a day and spending a week with creepy cousin Kevin was not a hard decision. Meeting him once was more than enough.

I wonder why she's home two days early. Then, suddenly, I'm across the finish line and everyone surrounds me, cheering and congratulating me. Hannah and Paige push through the crowd and pull me into a group hug.

"You are such a superstar!" Hannah shouts.

Everyone is so loud I barely hear her.

"Is there anything you can't do?" Paige asks.

"You just beat the best in the country!"

"You are the best in the country!" Hannah adds.

I just smile. Could a girl ask for better best friends?

The next runner crosses the finish line, and some of the crowd goes to congratulate her. Now that I'm not fully surrounded I see Coach Jack waiting to talk to me. Since he's my ticket to UF I pull out of our group hug.

"Hey, Coach," I say, my breathing starting to return to normal.

"Congratulations, Lindy," he says in his gruff tone. "I've never seen anyone win so decisively. Or so easily." He shakes his head, like he can't quite figure out how I did it.

"Thanks." My cheeks blush.

Sure, I've been told my whole life that I have a special talent for running—from my dad, my mom, my friends—but it feels a lot more real coming from the head coach of the UF cross-country team. There's a rumor that he's going to coach the next Olympic team.

"I'm putting you at the top of the list for the next school year," he says. "If you keep up with your classes and continue to perform well in races, the scholarship is yours."

"Wow, I—" I shake my head, beyond excited to be within reach of everything I've ever wanted. "Thanks, Coach. I won't let you down."

Then he's gone, off to talk to the other racers who are now piling across the finish line. Turning, I look for Mom. She's right behind me, still smiling, and I dive into her arms.

"Mom!" I cry as she pulls me into a hug. "I thought you weren't coming back until Tuesday."

She squeezes me tight. "We decided to come back early."

"We?" I ask, leaning back to look at her.

Mom blushes—actually blushes, with pink cheeks and everything—and releases me. She reaches out her hand to the side, like she's grabbing for something.

I stare blankly as another, clearly male, hand meets hers. "Lindy," she says, her voice full of girlish excitement, "there's someone I want you to meet."

My heart plummets. I suddenly have a very bad feeling about what she's going to say. All the signs are there: blushes, smiles, and a male hand. But still, I shouldn't jump to conclusions. I mean, Mom's just not the type to date. She's...Mom.

She spends her Friday nights either watching black-and-white foreign movies, while eating takeout, with me or poring over client files from her therapy practice. All she cares about are me and her work. In that order. She doesn't have time for guys.

The guy connected to the male hand steps to Mom's side.

"This is Rafe Acuna."

He's not a bad looking guy, if you like the older type with dark hair that's salt-and-peppering at the temples. His skin is a russet color, making his smile brighter in contrast. In fact, he looks like a nice guy overall. So, really, I would probably like him if not for the fact that he's glued to my mom's side.

"He and I are..." Mom giggles—actually giggles! "We're going to be married."

"What?" I demand.

"Good to finally meet you, Lindy," he says amicably, releasing Mom's hand and reaching out to shake mine. "Your mom's spoken but nothing of you."

I stare at his hand.

This can't be happening. I mean, I want to see Mom happy and all, but how can she go out of state and come back six days later with a fiancé? How mature is that?

"You're what?" I repeat incredulously.

When Rafe sees I'm not about to shake hands, he puts his arm around Mom's shoulder. She practically melts into his side.

"We're getting married," she says again, bubbling over with excitement. "The wedding will be in Washington this coming Spring, but we're having a civil ceremony at City Hall next weekend so Aunt Nina and Grandma can be there."

"Next weekend?" I am so shocked I almost don't realize the bigger implication. "Wait. How can you get married out of state? I'll be in school."

Mom slips her arm around Rafe's's waist, like she needs to get even closer to him. Next she'll be sliding her hand into the back pocket of his pants. No girl should have to watch her mother revert to teenage behavior.

"That's the most exciting part," Mom says, her voice edging on near-hysteria with excitement. I know instantly that I'm not going to like what she says next. "We're moving to Washington."

. . . . . . . . . .

"Be reasonable, Lindy-bird," Mom says—like using my nickname will make me suddenly okay with all of this. "This isn't the end of the world."

"Isn't it?" I ask, shoving the contents of my dresser drawer into my duffel bag.

Mom sits on the twin bed in the dorm room that has been my home for the last seven days. Twenty minutes ago my life was perfect...right on track. Now I'm just supposed to pack up my life and move hundreds of miles away so Mom can shack up with some guy she's only known for a week? Sounds like the end of the world to me.

"I know you were looking forward to spending the rest of your junior year at Eastside," she says, entering therapist mode. "But I think that the move will be good for you. Broaden your horizons."

"I don't need broader horizons," I snap, grabbing the pillow off my bed and tugging at my striped pillowcase.

"Honey, you've never lived anywhere but Florida. You've gone to school with the same kids your entire life." She places her hand on my shoulder when I lean past her to grab my blanket. "I worry that when you go off to UF you'll be in for a shock."

"I won't," I insist. "Hannah and Paige will be there."

"So will thousands of other students from across the country."

"That doesn't mean I need to be from across the country, too."

Turning away from Mom, I quickly fold my blanket and drop it on top of my duffel. All my things are packed, but I'm not ready to go yet. Not when I know he's out there? somewhere. Not when my whole world is being pulled out from under me.

"Come here," she says quietly. "Sit down."

I look over my shoulder to see her patting the bed.

I tell myself to remain calm. This is still Mom, after all. She's usually very reasonable...maybe she'll listen to my argument. Prepared to discuss this like adults, I plop down next to her.

"Mom," I say, trying to sound as mature as possible, "there has to be some other way. Can't he move here?"

"No," she says with a sad laugh, "he definitely cannot."

"Why not?" I ask. "Is he wanted by the law, or something?"

Mom gives me an of-course-not look. "His work demands he remain in Washington."

Work! There's something I can use.

"What about your work? Your practice?" I inch closer. "Won't you miss your daily dose of crazies?" Not a PC term, I know, but I'm operating in desperation mode.

"Yes. I will."

"Then why are you—?"

She looks me straight in the eyes and says, "Because I love him."

For what feels like forever, we just stare at each other.

"Well, I don't see why I have to go," I say. "I could stay with Grandma and finish off my year—"

"Absolutely not," Mom interrupts. "She is in no position to care for you until graduation. She's nearly eighty. Besides,"—she nudges me in the ribs—"you hate goat cheese."

"I know, but—"

"You're my baby girl." Her voice is determined. "I refuse to lose you any sooner than I have to."

Great, Mom has separation anxiety, so I have to leave the state.

"Are you trying to ruin my life?" I demand, jumping up and pacing back and forth on the bare linoleum floor. "What, was everything going too smoothly? Worried that I didn't have enough teen angst to work with? That I wouldn't need therapy when I hit thirty?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Me? I'm not the one who flew off to a family reunion and came back with a fiancé—wait, he's not family is he? That would be beyond ew, Mom."

"Lindy." Her voice is laced with warning, but I'm building up steam.

"I've heard about these spur-of-the-moment middle-aged marriages. Are you sure he's not just using you?"

"Enough!" she shouts.

I stop cold and stare at her. Therapist Mom does not shout. I'm in serious trouble.

"Rafe and I love each other." She stands up, tucks my blanket under her arm, and hangs the strap on my duffel over my shoulder. "We will be married next weekend. He will return to Washington. At the end of the month, you and I will move to La Push."

My life, as I know it, is officially over.