[COMPLETE]
When Hanna Haddad embarks on what's supposed to be another uneventful summer as a lifeguard on Cape Cod, a trip to the past comes as an unnerving surprise. The discovery of her estranged mother's journal opens up the world of tragedy and...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
There were only two people I could go to in this level of distress: Stella or Colin. Given Stella was a long drive away in lightning, I went with the convenient option.
I sent him a text and pathetically rang his doorbell, already having been there before dinner. In seconds, he yanked open the door and ushered me inside.
"You look like hell, Han."
I cried all over again.
"What's wrong, you little baby?" he soothed after a moment, running a hand down my damp hair and playing with the ends. I hadn't let him go for over two minutes, sobbing into his shirt like my first love had broken up with me. "Who made you sad?"
"I-I don't want to talk about it yet," I hiccupped before letting him go. I raked my palms down my face, feeling the heat of my damp cheeks. "I hope I didn't ruin your evening."
"Impossible." I followed him to his kitchen where I collapsed into a chair. He stood by a cabinet next to the fridge, arms folded over his chest. "Listen, there are usually two things I turn to when I reach your level of crisis: guided meditation or alcohol."
"Guided meditation?" I snorted in laughter, clamping a hand over my mouth. "I'm sorry that's just the funniest thing I've ever heard. Pass me a bottle of whiskey."
He hesitated before opening the cabinet, digging through his alcohol stash. He pulled out an unopened Jack Daniel's from the back and two glasses. He set the goods down on the table and then went to crack open the door to the patio, just enough to let in the peaceful sound of falling rain.
"Is this over a guy?" he asked, turning around.
I laughed humorlessly, taking a glass from him. "Yeah, you could say. My dad."
"Did he hit you?"
"God, no," I breathed, shaking my head. "He would never do that."
"Sorry, wasn't implying that he would. What did he tell you, then?"
I dropped my head back and stared at the light fixture above me. "Cassandra broke up with him, so he was in a mood. A mood he let out on me, and I went along with it."
"Little vague, but at least that bitch is gone, right?"
"I guess," I scoffed, not sure how that was any solace. "The topic of my mother is sensitive for the both of us. But he crossed a line telling me that he sometimes wishes I was never born." I swallowed that ball in my throat again, drowning it with more whiskey. "I mean, even if he does think that, don't fucking tell me."
"I'm sure he didn't mean it in that sense," he reasoned. "My mom's said it before, only because she felt bad she wasn't always there for me because of her job."
"I know he didn't deep down, but it still hurt," I croaked, burying my face in my hands. "I was already speculating that my mom didn't want me, but now him, too?" That journal entry popped in front of my eyes, making me more angry than heartbroken.
