"I'm a terrible person" is the first thought that pops into my head. Explaining this is difficult. I intended to rush back to the apartment and rip the letter to shreds before anyone could find it, so I wouldn't have to. Too late now.

Poor Mary Margaret, how she must be feeling? Emma must be on a mission to find my ass, and David...I've only seen him vulnerable when he told me about missing out on parenting Emma. The sternness of his face says he wants answers. He's mad I was going to leave without warning—that I left a note to do the job once I've gone. But the sadness in his eyes reveals he'd miss me if I went away. That's dangerous. It means the people of Storybrooke got attached to me. What's going to happen when I do leave?

I can't let them get too close. It wouldn't be fair. I'm not from here. I'm just a girl who stumbled into their lives. I wasn't supposed to stay this long, let alone sleep in the apartment. I can't stay. My parents are out there somewhere, and I'm going to find them whether or not they're in Storybrooke. They're who I've been searching for all this time. Why stop now?

But as David looks at me, I'm not so sure. Maybe what I've been looking for was right in front of me all along. I've been hunting for a place to call "home" and people to call "family." What if Storybrooke is home? What if these people are family?

That's not my story, though. That's not what I've told myself my whole life. I'm supposed to find my parents and fulfill my little girlie dreams. It's not fair the people of Storybrooke have to suffer because of my selfishness. I should've never let them in. I should've ignored their hospitality and friendliness. I should've lived up to how Emma and Regina viewed me when Emma locked me up at the station. Unfortunately, I can't turn back time and don't know what to do. If I couldn't leave today, how can I leave tomorrow? Or the next day? I'll have to suck it up and manifest the courage to cross over the orange line.

But right now, I need to explain all this to David.

"I see you got my letter," I say, trying to lighten the mood.

"You're leaving Storybrooke?" he says in disbelief. After reading my letter who knows how many times, he still can't grasp the idea. I seemed happy—and I was. Am. I don't know. It's complicated.

"I was going to, but as you can see, I didn't."

"Why? I mean, I know why. It's in the letter. What I'm trying to say is, why did you think not finding your parents meant you had to leave town?" So many reasons. So many reasons I can't say. I'm not sure I know them all.

It may be impossible, but I feel gravity. It pulls me down, deeper into the barstool. It places an anchor on both my shoulders, forcing them to droop. As soft as I can muster, so my emotions remain in a sealed bottle, I say, "David, I can't stay. I'm in Storybrooke to find them, and I didn't. I have to go. Maybe not today, but eventually, yeah, I'll have to."

"But you don't," he says, something shining in his eyes, and reaches out, his hand inches from mine on the counter. "You can stay here with us. At the loft."

"For two years?"

"For as long as you need."

Something rises within me. Hope. Hope that this can be home. Somewhere to stay.

Outside, a cloud shifts, and the morning sun pours in through the windows behind David. It basks the town in its light, making everything—from the buildings to the cars and electrical posts—as clear and bright as a Lightroom filter. It's beautiful. Peaceful.

But it's not mine. I don't belong here.

The cloud moves back, hiding the sunlight and blanketing everything under a grey, shadowy haze.

"That's generous," I say, "but I couldn't do that to you guys. And besides, the police are looking for me. Sooner or later, they're gonna find me, and I'd rather go of my own accord than have them drag me back over there."

"They won't find you here. Storybrooke's—"

"Cloaked?" I shake my head. "I don't buy it."

"You were going to leave Storybrooke." David juts his chin and asks, "Why didn't you?"

I could tell him what I told Granny. About the foster home and how I see things I'm not meant to have here. How my life is worse there than it is here.

Instead, I say, "Unfinished business," because I still need to accomplish some things. There are questions left unanswered.

"Well, since you're staying," he digs in his pocket and produces my key, "you should have this back."

"Thanks," I say as he places it in my hand, and I tuck it away in my pocket.

David swivels his barstool forward and holds my letter in both hands, reviewing it once more. He chuckles. "Cool uncle, huh?" he says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

I blush with a small laugh. "Yeah, you're not so bad. Sorry for the scare."

He grins and says, "Consider it forgotten." David surveys me in deep consideration before continuing. "I may have missed out on parenting Emma, but I don't want to miss out on being an uncle to you."

I smile, touched by his words.

Maybe I won't find my parents. Maybe I'll never fulfill my little girlie dreams. But that doesn't mean I can't find a new purpose—a new family.

"And I don't want to miss out on having an uncle like you."

David nods with a relieved grin and pats my arm as someone enters the diner. He conceals the letter under a menu.

"There you are," Mary Margaret chirps to David as she stands between us with a wide smile. If this is how she talks, how must she sing? I'd love to hear that one day. I could propose a karaoke night at the apartment. I'd like to see Emma's reaction to that. David would love the idea.

"Bella, I missed you this morning," Mary Margaret says, playful yet accusatory. Her bright green eyes sparkle with laughter, her cheeks flushed pink from the chill outside. She wears a white blouse with a blue floral pattern and a knee-length skirt that swings as she moves.

I'm surprised by how chipper she is after reading my letter. Would she not miss me, after all? "Yeah, I'm sorry—" out of the corner of my eye, I catch David shaking his head, "about that. I went for a walk." What a tremendous relief? I would've hated to have caused her pain. I steal a glance at David, and he winks, giving me a secret thumbs-up under the countertop.

"Don't apologize. Exercise is important. I keep telling David we should get a treadmill for the loft."

"We get enough exercise as it is, Snow." The exhaustion in his tone and the way he turns toward the counter confirms the constant repetition of this conversation. "You keep up your archery training, and I'll keep up my hikes." As I've discovered the routine to be, Mary Margaret heads to the North Woods to practice her archery skills after school. She takes a handcrafted bow, earbuds, and a quiver filled with primitive arrows with her. During some afternoons, David goes for a hike in the West Woods, the part of Storybrooke Wilderness Park where most hiking trails are located. Emma's workout routine is a bit more rigorous and consistent, with a lot of pull-ups, push-ups, sit-ups, and grunting.

"Wouldn't it be more convenient to exercise at home?" Mary Margaret says like a wife with a point would, extending the word "home."

David sighs and runs a hand over his face.

I notice now that Mary Margaret has Henry's storybook tucked under her arm. "You have the storybook."

She looks down at it, having forgotten. "Yes, which reminds me." She places it on the counter for David to take. "Can you give it to Henry if you're passing by Regina's? He left it behind again."

"Odd how he keeps doing that," he says, sliding it closer to him.

My eyes linger on the book. I shouldn't, though almost everyone said I should, but I can't resist the temptation to flip through its pages. I've always been curious about the characters in the book. The ones that have supposedly come to life here in Storybrooke. It's also more curious that they all resemble my friends. What adventures did they have? What struggles did they face?

And what secrets could be hidden within those pages?

It's like holding a key to a whole new world, and I can't help but feel a rush of excitement at the thought of uncovering its mysteries. I may not believe, but it's better to get a sense of what everyone's been telling me. I'll understand what they're talking about for once—what they're referring to. I'll know more about where they claim to have lived and the villains they faced. I'll know why Hook thinks we're inseparable and gives me the time of day. I'll know more about my character and who the others want me to be.

Then again, it's not mine to read, and I don't want to pry into Henry's personal world without permission. So, for now, I'll have to let my curiosity simmer and hope he'll trust me enough to share his sanctuary with me one day.

Unless that's why he keeps leaving it behind.

He wants me to read it. He wants me to know the stories inside. He wants me to believe, and, in his mind, what better way to help me get there than with a book full of hope, magic, and intrigue?

"Can I hold on to it for a while?"

"Sure. Henry wouldn't mind," Mary Margaret says, then addresses David. "I'm going to say 'Hi' to Ruby."

When she's gone, I say, "Shouldn't she be teaching?"

"Her first class starts later today. They're trying out a new schedule to enhance academic performance."

Through the bay window behind David, I glimpse Hook leaning against the Heritage Building and enjoying a drink like he doesn't have a care in the world. But that's not true. I was going to leave him without saying "Goodbye," and the sight of him makes my heart drop to my stomach. He's been nothing but good to me. Even when I was a complete stranger to him, he was there to help me, and I was going to pay it all back by leaving him without a word? What kind of person does that? I can't imagine how he'd react if he found out.

It's not just about him, though. I'm guilty of trying to leave Storybrooke at all. I don't want to leave it. Not anymore. Despite everything, this is the only place that has ever felt like home to me.

But we can't always have what we want.

David notices me staring out the window and turns to see what I'm looking at. "You should talk to him."

"'Bout what?" I say, my eyes still on Hook.

"About how you feel, Bella. You asked us to tell him what he means to you, and now you have the opportunity to do it yourself."

"I don't know if I can."

"Of course you can." David holds up my letter and says, "Tell him everything you said in here. He deserves to know how you see him."

"Isn't it weird? He's like forty."

He laughs. "It's not like you're in love with the guy. If he's your best friend, he deserves to know, don't you think?" Yes. Hook deserves to know before I die. It's only fair, but I can't bring myself to do it. It's like I'm glued to the barstool.

"Hey," David says, his voice gentle but determined, when he sees how nervous I am. "You don't have to go alone." His soft blue eyes meet mine, and something in there makes my heart skip a beat. It lets me know I have a friend in him. No. A cool uncle.

He takes my hand in his. "Let me come with you."

My eyes widen in surprise at his offer, and I find myself unable to form words as I take in what he said. I can only stare at him for a few moments, overwhelmed with emotion at his kindness and understanding. It seemed like such an impossible task when I was facing it alone, but with David by my side, it's not daunting anymore.

He squeezes my hand and smiles as if he knows what's going through my mind. He waits for my response in the silence of the room that seems to have frozen in time since his offer of accompaniment.

"Thanks," I say at last, "but I should do it alone." I don't want Hook to feel threatened by David's protective presence. Besides, having a heart-to-heart with Hook when David's within earshot would be awkward.

He leans in and says, "You got this."

Nodding, I slide off the stool.

As I walk by him, David reaches back to pat my shoulder. "Atta girl."

I walk out the door and stop under the arbor with Henry's book in my arms. The sunlight reflects off Hook's leather coat, creating a bunch of white highlights as though he's wearing the starry night sky around his shoulders. Watching him, I try to breathe at a normal rate, but my heart races like I'm about to jump off a cliff. I've never been good with words, and I'm unsure how to express my feelings to him. What if he just sees me as his lost friend?

But David's right. I can't ignore how I feel anymore. I have to tell him.

I glance back at Granny's, David watching me through the bay window. He gives a curt nod and a smile. I reciprocate, then take a deep breath and force myself to cross the street.

Hook takes a gulp from his drink before using his hook to scratch along his stubble-covered chin. He stares at me as I approach and smirks, making my cheeks heat in embarrassment at what I'm going to say. I try to speak, but the words get stuck in my throat.

He corks his bottle of rum one-handed, then puts it away. "The lass has a penchant for fairytales, does she not? Do tell. Have you found your happily ever after yet, miss?" he quips with a grin, teasing me for holding Henry's storybook.

"I need to tell you something," I say when I reach him. I take another deep breath. "It's important."

"I'm listening," Hook says, angling his head back.

"I...You..."

Hook raises an eyebrow in that cool, sexy way of his that would have any ordinary girl weak in the knees. But Emma and I aren't ordinary. It feels wrong to think of him in that way.

Fear once again conquers my body, and I'm unable to speak. I'm sure he already knows what he means to me. That day at Granny's should've let him know—when I asked if we could sit together forever with my head on his chest and his arm around me. I've never felt more safe. And he told me I brought love back into his life. He said he loves me without saying he loves me.

But he doesn't love me. He loves her, his lost friend.

Instead of facepalming, I say, "We should set sail on the Jolly Roger again one of these days. It was fun."

"Aye, lass. There's always an adventure to be had with the Jolly Roger and you. Pick a date, and I'll make it happen." He watches me with his head tilted to the side, and I smile, grateful to have gotten out of talking about feelings. "Is there something else?" Or not.

"Nope."

"Perhaps something more important than taking the ship for a spin?" Hook's body language is one of gentle assurance as he says this. His posture mirrors the strength and confidence I'd expect from him, but it's softened by the slight incline of his head toward me. He has a look of genuine interest and care on his face, like what I have to say matters. His eyes focus on mine with intent, almost as if he's trying to communicate something to me without words.

My heart swells at how tender his gaze is, and for a moment, I want to confess everything I've meant to say for so long.

But in the end, fear wins out again, and instead of being honest with Hook about my feelings, I smile sheepishly and shake my head. "Spending time with you is important."

He nods, understanding, stepping closer to me, and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear before squeezing my shoulder in encouragement. The gesture reminds me of when he tried to reach out during one of my first days in Storybrooke. How I flinched, stopping him. Why did I flinch? His action makes me want to cry because it tells me all I need to know about how he feels about me. "Are you sure there's nothing else?"

Guilt gnaws at my insides as I gaze into his eyes, smaller than ever. He's trying to connect with me, yet I'm still denying him the truth. I wish more than anything I could blurt out my feelings, but fear will forever have a hold on me. "Yes, nothing at all," I say as regret burrows deep within my chest.

"Something's wrong. I know there is, and I would appreciate it if you told me."

"I'm fine, promise." It's getting harder to ignore the knot in my stomach from betraying him with my silence.

"I thought we'd moved past this," he says, dropping his hand from my shoulder, leaving me with the sensation of a blanket slipping off during a frosty night.

"Past what?"

"This," he snaps, flailing his hand between us. "The armor, the walls. I thought we'd become friends."

"We are friends."

"Are we?" Without another word, he walks down the sidewalk.

I stand in shock, watching him leave.

I can't believe myself. Hook knows something's wrong and is willing to talk to me about it. Am I really going to shut him out again? Even though I'm still guarded, I want to tell him everything. But as fast as the thought appeared, it fades. Hook's gone too far down the street for me to catch up with him.

That's what his prying means. I'm not just the lost friend. He wants to get closer to me, the new friend.

My feet move on their own until I'm running after him, despite all my fears and doubts, with one hand keeping my hat from flying off. My heart could burst from all the emotions swirling around inside of me. "Wait!"

Hook stops in front of Gold's shop and turns, allowing me to catch up.

Out of breath, I say, "I don't want to do this again. I don't want to shut you out."

"Then why are you?"

"Because...you're...you're important to me." I hug the storybook, so my hands have something to do while I compose myself to say what needs to be said. "And I'm scared because I haven't had someone important to me for a long time."

"Your friend," he whispers.

"I don't want to lose you, too, and I don't think I know how to do this anymore."

A small grin forms on his face. "You're doing a better job than you think you are, love. And you won't lose me. I'm a survivor, remember?"

"But you shouldn't have to be. When was the last time you lived? Truly lived?" I pause to let the words sink in.

He keeps his eyes on me as he ponders.

Then I rip off the band-aid. "I almost left Storybrooke today."

A worried frown creases Hook's forehead, his features in a fold of concern. He looks at the sky, then back at me, probably wondering how he could've missed this news. "When?"

"Earlier this morning. I thought I had to because I didn't find my parents. At least, I thought that was the reason."

"Then what was it?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do." Before I can protest and tell him part of the reason was because of him, he says, "You didn't try to abandon town because you failed to find your parents. You did it to run."

"How dare you?" I say, moving back.

"You're afraid of staying because of how this place makes you feel. Trust me, I know. I've done it before. You see a future here, one where you can settle down and be happy, surrounded by people who care about you, and it terrifies you." I don't like how he sees right through me, but at the same time, I do. That's true friendship. And it's staring me in the face, poking holes into everything I've ever believed.

"You don't know what you're talking about. Why on Earth would I stay when my family isn't here?"

"Because it is here. You're just too scared to accept it." He's no longer poking holes. He's dragging his hook through the fabric of my beliefs and tearing them apart.

But what he's saying is true. I see myself happy in Storybrooke. I see a future here with everyone as my family. But I won't accept it because I'm not sure how long I'll be staying before I decide to leave again or whether I'll survive another day. I'll push it as far into the depths of my mind as possible, so I never have to think about it again.

"Is that how you see me?" I say, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. "A scared little girl?"

"You are so much more than that," he breathes.

I cower at his words, and a lump forms in my throat as I recall all that's happened since I arrived in Storybrooke. All the pain and hurt. All the loneliness and uncertainty. It's too much for one person to bear alone, yet that's what I've been doing since setting foot here. Heck, I've done it before then; only now I have people willing to take some of the burden for me, so I don't have to carry it alone.

As Hook stands there, looking at me with nothing but care in his blue eyes, I realize it doesn't have to be this way anymore. It's time for me to stop running. It's time for me to learn how to love again.

"Before you started telling me what my 'intentions' are," I air quote, one-handed, "I was going to tell you I realized something. Each time I debated whether I should leave, I thought about you. How it would affect you. And, yes, I was going to leave without saying 'Goodbye,' but only because it would've hurt too much. I couldn't do it. I was also going to tell you it didn't matter that I didn't find my parents because this trip was worth it because I found my best friend. That's you, by the way."

Hook's lips pull upward, eyes glistening.

"So, yeah, I am a scared little girl who's always dreaming, but I'm still learning. I'm new to all this, and it's going to take time to get used to. You...you are how I've always imagined home should feel, and I realize now that a home doesn't have to be a place. It can be a person. People. And you...you are home." My breathing becomes heavy after I get everything off my chest. I don't want to do that again for a while. It's draining.

A soft smile appears on Hook's face, full of warmth and understanding. Still, I'm scared he'll say I'm an idiot for finding a home in a rum-drinking, leather-clad pirate cosplayer. "Well, love, that's a revelation I wasn't expecting. That's a fine sentiment, and I reckon it takes a bit of courage to bear your heart like that. You may be scared, lass, but there's strength in honesty. Not everyone finds what they seek, especially in this vast sea of life. But finding a true friend, someone who feels like home, that's a treasure. If you've found that in me, then I'm honored. It's about time you realized home is where the heart is, and you've had mine all along."

"Really?" I say, the tears forming.

"Yes," Hook says, breathy, as though he's trying to keep his own emotions in check. His hand returns to my shoulder, and I hug the storybook tighter.

"My entire life, I thought I needed to find my parents, but...I needed to find you."

He wraps his arms around me, enveloping me in leather and the scent of a woodsy cologne. I set my head on his shoulder, and he rubs my back before gripping my shoulder with his fingertips to keep me close. I wish I could hug him back, but my hands are pinned between him and the storybook.

Lifting my eyes, I catch sight of David across the street on his way back to the loft, Mary Margaret by his side, each holding a coffee cup. He waves to me, unbeknownst to her, and I smile in appreciation because if it weren't for him, my best friend would never know who he is to me.