Mina

Come On

It took me days to finally tear open the letter from my dad. I was all pounding heartbeat and trembling hands as I had unfolded the paper, my eyes scanning the page trying to soak in the words as fast as I could.

I'd read it now at least a thousand times. Staring at his phone number that he had scribbled across the button of the page.

Of course I had thought about calling him. I'd even thought about being lame and texting him. But the truth was, I wasn't ready. I knew that. I could feel it every time my heart slammed against my chest at the mere thought of doing so.

It didn't help that Owen's "I love you" kept resurfacing in my thoughts. He'd texted me a couple of times, all of which I didn't respond too. Even at therapy I had kept my distance. He couldn't love me. And I couldn't leave any doubt in his mind. So even though I had wanted to call him, I had wanted to seek him out for comfort more than once, I hadn't.

The problem was every time I thought about that night in the restaurant, the dim light casting shadows on his face. His brown eyes hurting but still steady, like he knew the storm would pass shortly and the damage would be minimum. Every time, it caused warmth to spread through my body and my heart to beat a little faster and a smile to pull on my face. I wasn't sure if those things warranted that I loved Owen back but I knew that I liked him. I liked him a lot. Even though I shouldn't.

I even had to explain myself to Max and Chelsea. Apparently Owen told Max and well of course Max then told Chelsea and then they both came after me. I stuck with my story. That I didn't like Owen. I couldn't stand him, I still found him obnoxious and self centered and there'd never be anything between us because I wouldn't let there be. When I finally got done with my rant I looked them both in the eye and knew they saw straight through me. Funny thing was I still couldn't admit it.

What I had done though was write my dad another letter. And this time when I stuck it in the mailbox I didn't take it back out. I had thought about it, but I didn't let Penny's voice inside my head talk me out of it. Besides I'd done the hardest part, I had sent the first one. And my dad said we could communicate in any form I felt comfortable with, for right now, that was letters.

Penny had come home too. She was still Penny. I still was angry but we went about our days with a mutual understanding that the letters were to never be spoken of and neither was my dad.

And the last thing I had done in the days that had spanned since Owen said he loved me was go to the police station. I knew by doing so I was pushing Grace. And I knew she'd probably be mad. Maybe even never talk to me again. But I was willing to shoulder that if it meant getting her boyfriend locked up or at the very least away from her. So I had spent an entire afternoon in the police station, waiting for what felt like hours, and then waiting again as I told a handful of officers what Grace had told me. They had said they'd look into it. I hoped that I could trust them and that they'd actually do what they said but I was very aware that I wasn't very good at knowing if I could trust someone.

I felt a little overwhelmed. If I was anyone other than me, I would have just crawled into my bed and slept the day away but I couldn't.

I owed it to Max and Chelsea to show up. They had put up with me flaking out on them so much the past few years that now that my schedule had become slightly less chaotic I was trying to make up for loss time.

So even though I wasn't sure I wanted to see Owen, I climbed out of my car and closed the door. I could hear the party, voices carrying around the house into the front yard.