pls read the authors note at the end:)
I pulled my dad into a tight hug, not realizing how much I missed him.
"Hi dad,"
"How're you doing sweetie? Is everything okay?" He asked, pulling away and looking at me with a concerned look on his face.
"I missed you guys, and I just needed a break from California. You're not mad, are you?"
He shook his head, a small smile making its way onto his wrinkled face. "Of course not, come in." He spoke, stepping aside.
"Is mom here?"
"She's out right now, but should be back within the hour," He said, walking to the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee. "Want some?"
I nodded my head and sat at the table as he placed a mug in front of me, and took a seat across the table.
"Your hair looks good," He nodded.
"How have you been?" I asked, breaking the awkward silence that seemed to fill the air.
"Good, good." He sighed, "I'm sorry we haven't called Isabella."
I shook my head, taking a sip of coffee. "Don't apologize, please dad. There's nothing to be sorry for, I screwed up... it's my fault."
"Although you've made some shitty decisions, it's our job to be there for you as your parents. Your mom was just so shocked and honestly, I was too. We didn't know what to think Bella... after everything that happened we were so worried about you, we wanted to be able to support you but we weren't sure what else we could do."
As I opened my mouth to speak, the front door opened and my mom walked into the kitchen with grocery bags in hand, humming to herself.
"Isabella?" She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of me.
"Hi momma," I half smiled at her.
She dropped the bags and walked over to me, our arms embracing each other in a tight hug. "I'm sorry we haven't been there for you baby. I'm so so sorry," She whispered, it was evident in her voice that she was crying.
"Shh it's okay, I wouldn't have known how to deal with it either. It's not your fault mom, it's okay. I'm okay now."
We pulled back and both wiped our eyes, she smiled sadly at me. "Are you hungry? The drive must have been long."
"Always," I smiled.
That afternoon we talked about everything. Every feeling, every painful memory, every tear that had been shed since the last time we talked.
I knew that my parents were sorry for not being there for me, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't know why they waited for me to come to them. I'd put them through so much in the past two years, so me turning around and putting my time in recovery to waste all because I heard a song hurt them, but I'd also be lying if I said it didn't hurt me too.
"Have you talked to Harry since you saw him last?" My mom spoke, biting her sandwich.
"No, and I'm still debating if I want to. He really, really hurt me mom. I'm not sure if I'm ready to face him."
"Honestly, if you don't think you need too, then don't." My dad spoke up, hostility clear in his tone. "Don't feel like you should because people are telling you too. It wasn't right of Gemma to tell you that you need too, he's not the only one that was, or is hurting. I might have to call Anne and tell her to tell Gemma to not do that again." He stated.
