Status: Just beginning

Broken Things

Twenty-Two

I spent the rest of my evening in a darkened movie theater, my phone turned to silent as I tried to take in the plot of some romantic comedy I couldn’t help but slightly enjoy, despite my muddled brain. When this movie finished, I forked out another twelve bucks for a second one, just to kill time until it was late enough to sneak back into the apartment and grab my things. By the time the second movie got out, it was still only ten o’clock.

Harry had texted me that he’d rented me a room, sending me the address. I figured if I had nothing else to do, I could at least take a shower and mindlessly flip through TV channels. It was with this in mind that I trudged to the address he’d sent me. Some towering hulk of a hotel lay in wait.

I hugged Harry’s hoodie to me tighter as I pushed through the revolving door. The lobby was expensive-looking, glittering floor tiles and mahogany desks at one end. I felt tremendously out of place as I strode to check in and handed over my ID. Technically, I wasn’t old enough to check in to a hotel room on my own. This hardly seemed to matter where Harry Styles was involved, however. Within a few minutes, I had a card key and vague directions as to where the room was, somewhere on the tenth floor.

It was only in the mid seventies as far as weather went, but the air conditioning was on full blast. I was happy to have the hoodie on as I stepped into the elevator and hit the correct button. Some jazzy music played over an intercom as I rode alone to the tenth floor, stepping out when the doors parted and the dial on the wall finally hit ten. Blindly, I turned down a hallway, taking note of the room numbers only enough to make sure I was going in the right direction.

When I reached the right room number, I slid my key into the slot and stepped into the room, flicking on the lights as I went. The room was too much; a suite and a lavish one at that. To my immediate left was a small hallway leading to a bathroom I couldn’t even see most of. Directly ahead was a living area with a couch and small kitchenette. Beyond that was a pair of French doors that led to the bedroom.

I wanted to send a text to Harry immediately, explaining to him that it was too much. Still, I knew it wouldn’t change anything; he’d already charged it to his card and I couldn’t refuse it. I would have taken a cardboard box in a gutter if it meant not having to go back to the apartment where my dad lay in wait. At some point in time, I’d have to face him again. Until then, there was a bath tub calling my name.

I treaded across the plush carpet to the bathroom, fiddling with the fancy faucet until I got it working. After a few adjustments, the water temperature was bearable, and I stripped myself of the clothes I’d been wearing before sinking into the water. With a sigh, I closed my eyes and willed my muscles to untense.

I couldn’t be sure how long I’d spent in that bath, eyes closed while I focused on breathing. I think I’d been crying at first, because my face felt wet and my eyes burned, though I hadn’t yet sunk beneath the water. When I finally did, I let out a scream I’d been holding in for months. Feeling slightly better, I emerged, gasping for breath.

Eventually the water turned icy and I had no choice but to drain the tub. I turned a knob to start the shower head up and got to work actually scrubbing my body, using the hotel issued bottles of shampoo and conditioner. When I’d scrubbed myself raw, I still felt heavy with the pain in my chest, but figured it was the best I could do. I wrapped myself in a towel and began combing through my hair with my fingers, rubbing at my face as I stepped out of the bathroom and down the small hall, toward the bedroom.

The bed was backed against a wall of glass overlooking the Chicago skyline. The sun had set, the clock beside the bed telling me it was much later than I had anticipated; near midnight. I’d spent more time in that bath than I had noticed. Still, I took a few moments to stand there at the glass, taking in the view. My hand reached out to touch the window panes, leaving a steamed outline behind when I pulled it back again.

Chicago had once felt like home; a safe place. Now it felt hollow and empty. I didn’t thrive here like I once did, didn’t feel the strong attachment when I strode down its streets. It felt haunted with my mom’s memory and the way my father was now disgracing it, and while it was true that I’d always love Chicago, that didn’t mean I wanted to be there. It all hurt too much.

Rather than linger on this, I turned my back to the city and returned to the bathroom to pull on my clothes. Once I’d finished that, I slung my bag over my shoulder and slid my key card into my back pocket before pulling Harry’s hoodie back on. I needed to sneak back into the apartment for my things, and I was hopeful that my dad would already be asleep by this time.

It was late on a weeknight, which meant that the city slowed down somewhat. A long line of taxis were pulled up to the curb in front of the hotel, drivers calling to me offering rides. I ignored them, throwing the hood over my head as I kept my eyes fixed on the ground, focusing on each step I took as a means to keep my heart rate calm. The apartment was just across the Chicago river, maybe five or six blocks from where the hotel was. It wouldn’t take me long to get there, and I was too anxious to sit in the back of a cab anyway.

The thing about the city was that even when the daylight was gone, it was still bright. Glancing up at the buildings, there were lights on sporadically everywhere, glowing rectangles interspersed along the rest of the dark building, sometimes shadows of figures standing within. As a kid, I’d once been invited to one of my dad’s business parties. My mom had gotten me all dressed up and we’d ridden the elevator all the way up to the top floor, where we took another staircase that led to a rooftop. There were tables set up and even a live band, but my dad otherwise latched onto his associates and left my mum and I to entertain ourselves.

“Where are the stars?” I’d asked her. We’d found a quiet spot away from the ruckus where some of the band members were sipping beers and perched atop their equipment cases. She’d sat on the ground and pulled me onto her lap and together we’d leaned back and looked up. It was the first time I’d ever been so high up, able to see the night sky without dozens of skyscrapers looming above me. I’d never really paid much attention to the stars, just assumed they’d be up there above the tops of the buildings. Now that I was on one, I was perplexed as to their whereabouts.

“You can’t see them in the city,” my mom patiently explained. “But they’re there. Maybe we’ll drive out to the country sometime and we can look at them.”

I’d squinted up, positive that maybe if I tried harder I’d be able to glimpse them. When I had no such luck, I sighed and tucked my head into my mum’s chest, eyes still fixated above us.

“What color is that?” I’d asked next.

“What? The sky?”

“Yeah. It’s not really black. It’s sort of purple and brown and grey. What do you call that?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged.

“Well why does it look like that?” I’d demanded.

“I think it’s the light reflected back in the atmosphere,” she told me, tucking a piece of hair behind my ears. Before I had time to question her more about the color of the night sky, my dad had appeared, frantically searching for us. He declared it was time to leave, and we followed dutifully as he filled my mum in on what he’d discussed with his co-workers. As I trailed behind them on our walk home, my hand attached to hers, she spent less time making eye contact with my father and more time staring up at the starless sky. It seemed I’d inspired her.

I thought about that as I trekked the rest of the way to my father’s apartment building. Pushing in through the front door, I waved at the doorman as he buzzed me in, recognizing me from earlier in the day. I snaked my way into an elevator and rested my hip against a safety bar spanning the permiter of the machine. Eyeing my reflection in the mirrored surface, I rubbed a finger under my eye and sighed. I’d seen better days.

The elevator arrived at the correct floor and I forced myself up and out, running a hand through my hair nervously as I walked the short span to the doorway. I slid the key into the lock and turned the door handle, relieved when I was met with pitch darkness. With my phone in hand, I used the flashlight app to navigate the hall toward the guest room, where my bag was still packed, otherwise untouched from when I’d dug through it to find clothes that morning. It saved me a lot of time and effort.

I heaved the duffel up and over my shoulder, scanning the room with my phone’s flashlight to double check I hadn’t forgotten anything. My phone charger was still plugged into the wall and I tugged it out of the outlet, glad I’d found it. Satisfied, I turned to leave only to run straight into my step-sister.

She wore a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top, her hair pulled atop her head and a bottle of water held tightly in one hand. With no make-up on, she looked less like her mom and more normal. I couldn’t tell if she was just tired, or if the malicious glint in her eye had truly faded for me after the day’s events.

“Hi,” I whispered, for lack of anything else to say.

“Where are you going?” she asked, eyeing my bag and my appearance.

“I’m staying at a hotel. I can’t...” I trailed off, frustrated and tired. More than anything, I was dumbfounded to be explaining this to a step-sister I’d never gotten along with in the first place.

“Jake was a dick,” Stephanie said, eyes downcast to her water bottle. “He gets that way when you’re around. You remind him of her.”

My eyes flashed to her, wondering why she was saying this to me. She was biting at her lip like she was wondering the same thing. It was in the dim light from my phone that it occurred to me that Stephanie had done a lot of growing up in the years since I’d seen her last. Maybe there’d been a change in her, because stripped before me was a fifteen-year-old girl who had more to her than meets the eye. And maybe my realization of that scared her, because she turned suddenly and strode the rest of the way down the hall to her room, vanishing a moment later.

I pushed any lingering anxiety and weird vibes away as I adjusted the strap on my shoulder and made my way to the front door, shutting it softly again behind me. I felt dazed the rest of the way out of the building, even when I hit the cool summer air outside and began to walk back to the hotel.

I wondered what she meant by telling me I reminded my dad of my mum. I wondered just how much of the story I really knew, which was odd because it was something I’d never considered before in the past. Maybe Steph was more perceptive than I’d given her credit for and she’d sparked a curiousity in me. Maybe Harry was rubbing off on me, his reasonable countenance seeping in until it became a part of me. I couldn’t deny he’d been affecting me lately with his calm personality and level headedness.

As I pushed my way through the revolving door to the hotels, I thought for a moment that maybe these thoughts had conjured his image up. A disheveled-looking man bearing Harry’s stature leaned against the front desk, a bag at his feet as he ran a hand across his face. With his hair pulled up, it took me a moment longer to realize that I hadn’t imagined him.

“Harry?” I asked incredulously. He turned abruptly to look at me, green eyes bloodshot and weary. Still, he managed to conjure up a slight smile. Tentatively, I crossed the space between us.

“So I realized that maybe booking you a hotel was an awful idea because you’re an expert at wriggling your way out of responsibility and it’s very possible you’ll hibernate here, not contacting your father at all and promptly showing up for your flight out of here. And since I’m the one enabling that, I thought I should probably make sure it doesn’t actually happen.”

It was a long-winded excuse, one that wasn’t necessary in all honesty. Just yesterday hadn’t I been wishing for his presence in this very city? But just yesterday, things had also shifted between us. We’d been honest for once, and looking at him now I couldn’t help but feel the twist in my gut that meant I wouldn’t soon forget what we’d discussed on the phone.

Maybe he had shown up for the reason he’d just described. Or maybe he’d flown here because I’d hinted at missing him and he’d never been very good at denying me, aside from his departure in my life a few years earlier. Regardless, I couldn’t deny the great relief I felt to be this near him again. In a motion that surprised the both of us, I flung my arms around him, pulling him close. He hesitated only a moment before his arms were around my lower back, squeezing me to him.

“You’re an idiot,” I frankly declared.

“Yeah,” he agreed without argument, and I couldn’t help but laugh as I pulled away.

We were joined promptly by the receptionist, who was doing her best to look uninterested in this exchange. I blushed, running my fingers through my hair as Harry inquired about a room. When the rate was quoted back to him and he reached for his credit card, I balked.

“Harry, no,” I argued.

“Hmm?” he asked, still preoccupied with where he’d put his ID. It wasn’t in his wallet and he was trying to remember where he’d slid it after getting to the airport.

“You’re not paying for another ridiculously expensive room. Mine’s a suite, we can share.”

Harry paused in his actions, brows furrowed as he eyed me warily. I crossed my arms over my chest in a stance that I hoped suggested I wasn’t in the mood to argue over it. Turning to the receptionist, I said, “Another room won’t be necessary.”

The woman, dumbfounded, looked to Harry for further instruction. Harry, eyes on me with his brows furrowed, cocked his head to one side for a moment as if contemplating this. After a moment, he turned to the receptionist and sighed.

“Just another key to room 1024, please,” he acquiesced.

I couldn’t say for certain why I was insisting on something so absurd. One of us would have to sleep on the couch, which would probably be ten times more uncomfortable than the king sized bed in the suite. Still, it seemed preferrable that I wake with a few kinks in my neck rather than have Harry dish out another couple hundred of dollars to stay in a city where he knew I needed him. Not only had he paid for the room in the first place, but he’d flown out here. He’d been unwavering in his support for me, even when I’d tried to push him away, or worse take advantage of him by pressing my lips to his. He was too good for me, too kind and forgiving, but he was here. The least I could do was sleep on an uncomfortable couch in the living area of a suite he’d dished out several hundred dollars for.

But when he smiled a thanks at the receptionist, even I had to admit that maybe, possibly I was lying to myself.

When the woman handed over the key card, Harry bent forward to pick up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder in a fashion similar to how I was still wearing mine. I led the way to the elvator bank, pressing the button and being the first to step in when it arrived.

It was a silent ride up to the tenth floor, half due to both of our exhaustion and the other half due to the uncomfortable situation I’d just created. It dawned on me I’d offered my room up to a boy who might possibly be a little too emotionally attached to me for my liking. Still, I needed him and he understood that on a level higher than I could have ever hoped for. It was this thought that propelled me forward, leading the way down the hall to the room. Entering my key in the slot, I stepped into the room first, leaning against the door to allow Harry access to slip in beside me.

I’d left the lights on when I left, but Harry didn’t even pause for a moment to take in the room. He’d seen many in his day, and this was probably one of the less impressive ones. I shut the door behind us before walking over to the bathroom, flicking on the light. It still felt slightly humid from the shower I’d taken after my long soak in the tub, but I didn’t mind. I rummaged around for a brush and a set of pyjamas, preparing for bed. It was too early in the morning to focus on much else.

Once my hair was properly taken care of, I shut off the light and turned the corner toward the living room. Harry already had a bed half-made up on the couch. I frowned at him, hands on my hips.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Getting ready to pass out,” he answered easily, distracted by fluffing up an unsatisfactory pillow.

“I’ll take the couch. You take the bed.”

“What?” Harry questioned incredulously, finally turning his gaze to me. He sounded so stupefied that even I questioned my motivation for a moment.

“I’ll take the couch,” I repeated.

“Don’t be daft,” he replied.

“Harry, you’re paying for the room. The least you can do is take the bed.”

“I’m not taking the bed,” he answered shortly. “Forget it.”

“Well I’m not sleeping in it,” I told him, just as resolute.

“Fine,” he snapped. “Sleep on the floor.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

I glared at him as I crossed the room to grab my phone charger, plugging it into an outlet before shoving it into my phone. It took a moment for the power to reach it, lighting it up for a few minutes before it turned on again. Sometime between now and the apartment, it had died of low battery percentage. I also had awful service in the city, so after a few minutes of wifi connectivity problems, I was finally able to recieve iMessage. I noted, without shock, that Harry hadn’t bothered texting to tell me he was coming.

I did, however, have a few messages from my dad I had been ignoring since leaving the restaurant. I paused, staring at his name on my phone screen as I decided what to do with them. Glancing over at Harry, who was muttering to himself as he searched for blankets in one of the linen closets, I swallowed and unlocked my phone.

Sawyer where are you?

This isn’t funny, I want to know you’re safe

Despite what you want to believe, I care about you and your well-being so answer my calls.

Helen has just pointed out none of my texts actually say delivered, so maybe you don’t have service. Either way I would hope you could phone me and let me know you’re safe, but I guess I understand if you don’t. Wherever you are, whoever you’re staying with, I want to see you tomorrow. We need to talk. It seems you have some misconceptions as to where my priorities lie.

I love you. Goodnight.


There was no point in replying at that hour. I already knew he’d gone to bed, and even if he hadn’t, I didn’t have a definitive answer for him. Instead, I sighed and locked my phone before truding over to the space beside the couch, giving Harry a pointed glare as I lowered myself to the floor. He’d haphazardly thrown a blanket and pillow down there, obviously still annoyed with my stubbornness. He waited a few moments, returning my unamused gaze with an equally deadpan one before reaching up and turning off the lamp. With darkness around us, I shifted to my side and tried to find a semi comfortable position to sleep in. If the rustling sound of sheets was any indication, Harry was doing the same.

It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust, but when they did, it was hard to ignore the light in the room. The wall of glass allowed the hazy glow of the city to permeate throughout, and while there were curtains, undoing six of them sounded like a rough task, one I wasn’t really willing to undergo at that hour. Sleep was already off the table if I’d be forced to sleep on the floor due to sheer stubborn will.

I sighed loudly, turning from one side to another. Forcing my eyes shut, I tried to keep them that way. Harry let out an annoyed grunt to let me know he heard every move I made. I didn’t let it bother me as I loudly fluffed my pillow before letting my head sink into it, hitting the floor beneath it more easily than I would have preferred. I let out a quiet curse and Harry had enough.

“Jesus, Sawyer. If you’re not going to sleep in the bed, at least shut the hell up.”

“Oh, like you’re going to rest easily on that bed of nails,” I rolled my eyes. “Sleeping on that couch is probably the most uncomforable you’ve slept in the last six years of your life. Just give up already.”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch,” he huffed.

“Well I’m not either.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

I pushed myself up from the floor as he simultaneously sat up in the couch. I stalked over to the bed, pulling down one side and sliding into it. Harry hesitated at the French doors, eyeing me with a look that suggested he was waiting for the punch line.

“If you don’t get in, I’m going back to the floor,” I declared angrily.

In the dim light of the room, I could make out the white of his eyes as they rolled heavily. A moment later, he’d crossed over to the other side of the bed and collapsed in it, facing the wall away from me.

“Goodnight, Harry,” I told him, pulling the blankets to my chin and trying not to sound too pleased.

“G’night, Sawyer,” he responded, and even in his sleepy voice, I could hear the slight tone of relief in it. I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

-

I woke up in his arms, which shouldn’t have been surprising, but was sort of dizzying nonetheless. After all, Harry’s arms had been home to me for three years before he’d left, and sleeping beside him felt as natural as walking. For a moment, in my hazy half-asleep state, I was convinced we were both back in Cheshire. I’d roll over and be in his room and try to sneak out before Anne caught me, but inevitably she’d be taking tea on the front porch and call a goodbye as I sheepishly tucked my hair behind my ear and returned it. I’d walk the six blocks home and my mom would still be in bed, sleeping later and later those days, and I’d lift the blanket beside her and slide in. She’d unconscioulsly reach for me and pull me to her, burying her face in my hair and pretending she couldn’t smell Harry’s cologne on my clothes. We’d nap until noon, wake up, and find some place to get brunch.

Still, there was a difference even I couldn’t deny. Harry back then had been small and gangly, soft and warm. The Harry I woke to that morning was still warm, but no longer small and soft. His body had matured, his bicep creating a rather uncomfortable pillow, which is where my head had landed in the night. His face was inches from mine as I dared to force my eyes open, less round and pudgy, but giving way to hard lines and handsome features he’d always posessed but had become more pronounced since we’d last been in this position together.

His arm was slung around my waist, his hand pressed to my lower back. Our legs had become entangled in the night and the arm that wasn’t pressed to his chest was tucked beneath his, lazily slung over his body almost as if to hug him closer to me.

It was all unconscious, right? I couldn’t be held accountable for what had happened in the night.

Slowly, ever so carefully, I began working to untangle my legs from him. Ten minutes later, I’d found myself successful. The victory had gotten to my head, however, because I seemed to be a bit more hasty with pulling my arm from beneath his, and he moaned unhappily. Throwing all caution to the wind, I yanked my arm away and scurried to make distance between us before he actually opened his eyes.

“What time is it?” he muttered, using one hand to push back the long locks of hair that had fallen in his face and the other to rub at his eye.

“Dunno,” I answered, trying to look casual. I pushed up slowly, leaning slightly toward him to see the alarm clock on his side of the bed.

“Nine-fifteen.”

Harry mumbled something unintelligible before rolling back onto his side and burying his face in the pillow. I fought a smile. He said something to me then, but it was muffled by the fabric against his mouth.

“Come again?” I requested.

“Are you going to see your dad today?” he repeated, moving his head just enough for the words to be made out.

“I haven’t really decided yet,” I told him honestly. He peeked his eye open at me, frowning slightly.

“You have to face him sometime,” he reasoned.

I shrugged, stretching my arms above my head as I fell backward again into the plush comforter. “Or I could fall back asleep.”

“Nah,” he said, sitting up. I groaned. A moment ago, we’d both been on the same page. “I think I’ll head to the gym. Would you like to accompany me? Or are you going to be a big girl and talk to your father?”

I snarled at him, to which he smirked. A moment later, he was on his feet and crossing the room toward his bag. He began to dig around in it, looking for something to wear to the gym, and I was forced up. Harry took the liberty of tossing my phone in my direction, which I caught at the last minute, narrowly avoiding a disaster in which he owed me a new iPhone.

Sighing, I unlocked my phone and typed a response to the messages my dad had left me the night before. It said nothing else beside the name of one of my favorite restaurants and a time I’d be there, but it was more than I felt like telling him in the first place. When I’d hit send, I locked my phone again, glancing up to see Harry was already watching me.

“What?” I snapped.

“There’s the Sawyer I know and love,” he said sarcastically. I didn’t bother with a reply. “Do you want to do something tonight?”

I frowned, tilting my head to the side. “Like what?”

Harry shrugged. “Dunno. It’s your hometown, though. We’ve never been in it together, so I thought we could do something cool. But if you’re not comfortable with that, that’s fine, too. I’m just along for the ride.”

I bit my lip, trying to avert my gaze while Harry peeled off the plain white tee shirt he’d been considerate enough to sleep in. He swapped it for a clean one before rummaging about for a pair of athletic shorts he could wear. His focus seemed elsewhere, but I could tell he was impatiently awaiting my response.

“We can do something,” I allowed. “But I’m not sure what yet.”

“Doesn’t really matter,” Harry shrugged. “My schedule’s wide open.”

I couldn’t help but smile at his lame joke. Chicago was a bit of a vacation for him, somewhere he wouldn’t otherwise spend his time. Not only did he get privacy from fans who didn’t know he was here, but also from recording studios and the rest of the band.

I watched as Harry made his way over to the hall leading to the bathroom before disappearing, probably to change. I took this as an opportunity to start searching through my own bag for something to wear to brunch. I settled on a button-up shirt and a maxi skirt, folding the items over my arms while I waited for Harry to leave. When he did a few moments later after mumbling a quick farewell, I got to work preparing for the day.

I pulled my hair back from my face before applying make-up and pulling on the clothes I’d picked out. Deemed presentable, I reached for my satchel and made sure I had the key to get back into the room before pushing out into the hall. Once I hit the street in front of the hotel, I hailed a taxi and slid into the back seat, calling the address to the driver who took off a moment later.

The windows were rolled down, the day somewhat warmer than the one that had proceeded it. With the sun slanting in through the window and landing on my lap, I tried to focus on the beauty of the day rather than where I was headed and who I was going to meet. The driver of the taxi had some Top 40 radio station playing and I mouthed along to the Ellie Goulding song playing.

All too soon, the cab pulled to a curb along a row of buildings that housed different restaurants. I swiped my credit card and thanked the driver before stepping out onto the street. Immediately above me lay a set of tracks for the El, a train screeching by. I didn’t even flinch.

It was a small café, further out from the heart of the city. There was a patio selection as well as indoor seating. With the weather, the patio was crowded with patrons, so when the hostess asked, I requested a table in the dining room.

I was led to a table near a window, tucked in the corner of the restaurant but very near the front door. I tried not to focus too much on the comings and goings of anyone. I’d only psych myself out further and talk myself into leaving. Instead I read through the menu enough times to recite the different options of biscotti without prompt.

The legs of the chair made an unpleasant screech when they were pulled from the empty space across from me. I tried not to look surprised as I flipped through a page and kept my head down. In an instant, the waiter was at our table.

“Anything to drink for you, ma’am?” he asked.

“I’ll have a café au lait and a blueberry biscotti,” I replied.

“And for you, sir?”

“Just coffee. Black.”

The boy disappeared, leaving me alone with my father, who picked at the cloth napkin uncomfortably. I took a long sip of the water that had been brought to the table a little earlier. My dad cleared his throat.

“We have some things to discuss.”

“We do,” I agreed.

There was nothing malicious in my tone; a simple acceptance, albeit a terse one. Beggars can’t be choosers.

“The thing with your mom is that I loved her. And I don’t for a second want you to doubt that about me.”

He paused there, like he expected me to interject. When I kept my lips pressed tight, a very calculated moment of restraint on my part, he continued.

“Your mom was the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever met in my entire life. It’s why I married her. You don’t need me to tell you how fantastic she was because you know. Maybe even better than I do.”

“Can you stop saying that?” I finally spoke. At the look on his face, I clarified. “It hurts to much. I’d just like for you to stop.”

His face softened. Adjusting his stance in his seat, he ran a hand through his hair before letting out a long sigh. The waiter returned with our drinks and my order, which I quietly thanked him for. He disappeared again shortly thereafter, apparently sensing the tension between the two of us.

“Your mum knew she was sick. She knew for a long time and we made a decision together to separate.”

I paused in lifting my biscotti to my mouth. With furrowed brows, I sat it back down.

“What?”

“Your mum didn’t want to tell you. You were happy, and until it was absolutely necessary, she didn’t want you to worry about her. Business as usual, I think she told me. But she didn’t want me to see her that way,” he took a moment to suck in a somewhat shaky breath. “Legally, we’d been separated for a while before I met Helen. I stuck around the house for as long as your mom would let me, but when she found out about Helen, she said it was time. She wanted me to move on. I think she wanted me to take you, but I refused to do it. I had thirty-two years with your mother. God knows you deserved more time with her than what you got, I wasn’t going to shorten it. That’s why things were so tense between us on the weekends I was home.”

I took a few moments to process this. Then I took a few minutes more. My dad sat across from me, allowing me my time to take it all in. So many thoughts danced through my mind, but I could only grip onto one.

“She lied to me.”

“No,” my dad said, and he reached out his hand across the table for me. My first instinct was to pull it away, but I was numbed by pain and shock. “We’re not going to do that. I won’t let you fester over a decision your mother made after she was diagnosed. It was a personal choice.”

“I’m her daughter,” I argued.

“And she did her best to protect you, even if she chose a method you don’t agree with. I stand by her decision. I’d much rather you hate me for what you thought happen than hate her for what did. It’s why I didn’t tell you sooner, but after the scene at lunch yesterday, I thought it was time you should know.”

“The one person in the world who always told me the truth was my mum,” I said instead. “And she didn’t.”

“Listen to me,” my dad said, his voice much sterner than I’d heard recently. His grip on my wrists tightened and I recalled days in my childhood when he’d caught me up to something I shouldn’t have been. My heart still froze in fear.

“Your mom loved you more than the world. You were her everything and she did what she thought was right to protect you. She made a decision that hurt her, and I went along with it because you were the most important thing in our lives. You’re still the most important thing in my life. You’re an adult, Sawyer. You’ve known pain and heartache and you’re still healing from it, so I understand why you’re lashing out. But in the end, you’re still only hurting yourself and your mom wouldn’t want that. I don’t want that. Harry doesn’t want that.”

I bit hard on my lip in the hopes that the physical pain would distract from how harshly my bruised and beaten heart was beginning to break all over again. It didn’t stop the tears from spilling over the edges of my eyes.

“Your mom was a fighter and so are you. Regardless of if you’re here in Chicago or in L.A., I’m on your side and I always will be. And I think you need to know that more than anything right now.”

I sucked in a breath and forced myself to look up at him, a man I’d hated for years suddenly sticking by my side. I looked back on what I’d done in L.A., the decisions I made for myself and how it affected the people I loved in the process, and came to a conclusion.

I’d have to do better.
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It's a week late, but better late than never, right? Lots to discuss and I encourage you to do so either here or over at beggingforfics.tumblr.com. Thanks to everyone still sticking with this!