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Kennedyand I lie on our backs, stretched across the bartop, with our heads beside each other, just staring at the ceiling. A few regulars have come in, but it's absolutely dead this afternoon—just like our souls.
"Is this what rock bottom feels like?" I ask. "I mean, it has to be, right?"
She hums. "I think rock bottom was last night. This is just...after."
A sympathetic frown appears on my face. It's hard not to feel bad for Kennedy after she found out that Easton has been hanging out with Tessa behind her back. He claims it's innocent, that she's happily with Asher and nothing has happened between them. But Kennedy's issue is that he hid it. If there was nothing wrong, why hide?
Despite the fact that it literally broke her inside, she held her head high as she ended things with him and walked out the door. I don't think she shed a single tear until she got outside and away from the house, where she then broke down and called me.
"The hardest part about all this is that I feel like I can't talk to Amelia about it," she says. "I mean, he's her brother. Doesn't that mean she has to take his side by default?"
I snort. "If you think Amelia is going to choose what side of a breakup she's on based on genetics alone, you haven't been paying attention."
Letting out a slow exhale, she takes a second to think about it. "Yeah. I guess you're right. It just sucks."
"I know, babe," I comfort her. "It's going to suck. And it probably won't get better for a little while, but it will get better."
She might be eating up every word I say, but I'm talking out of my ass. I've been doing everything I can to keep my mind off Carter, from diving headfirst into schoolwork and preparing my victim statement to taking extra shifts at work and writing a diary of my own. Granted, mine is a little less sociopathic than Davi's, but getting the words down on paper helps me let the feelings out. After they're out, I can let them go.
If only that could be done with memories.
I TAKE MY SEATon the plane and buckle my seatbelt. Passengers happily fill the spaces around me, excited for their vacations or relieved to be going home. I, however, am not doing any of that.
Staring at my phone, the unanswered text from Carter earlier stares back at me.
Carter: Good luck tomorrow.
After I all but kicked him out of my dorm on what took first place as the absolute worst day of my life, he hasn't said anything to me, until this. I half expected him to reach out. To call or just show up like the annoying pest he’s excelled at being in the past. But he didn't. I’m pretty sure he believed me when I said I didn’t want him. I should be happy about that, but since when am I happy?
The only time I've seen him was when we had class on Monday. I did my best not to make eye contact with him as he walked in and made his way to his seat, and thankfully, I succeeded. But at the same time, being that close to him and not being able to lean on him, especially as the parole hearing date approached, was so hard.
I can play like the best of them. I can train my expression to look like I don't have a care in the world, and I can fake a smile at all the best right times. But that doesn't mean I'm not dead inside. I miss him. I miss the way he used to drive me insane and make me crave him all at the same time. But I can't let him back in like that.
I'd end up just like Davi was—bruised and broken wondering what could have been done differently.
THE MORNING COMES ENTIRELYtoo soon. I laid in bed, unable to sleep a wink, and just watched as the sun came up and lit up the darkness.
I stand in front of the mirror as I do my makeup. My lips move as I quietly go over all the advice Mr. Trayland gave me. His information was really useful and gave me a better understanding of this whole process, but that still doesn't make it easy. When my father was arrested, I was a minor, and all parties agreed not to put me on the stand. Today, having to speak about what happened to me in a room full of people, there's a good chance I might throw up.
For a second, before I got on the plane, I considered calling Carter. Regardless of everything that happened, there is still a big part of me that wants him here. But as I stood at the gate and stared at his contact on my screen, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead, I shoved my phone back into my pocket and forced myself to put one foot in front of the other.
"You're going to be okay," I whisper to myself like a mantra. "He can't hurt you with all those people there. He can’t touch you."
I fix the blazer that rests on my shoulders and stare at my reflection. The gray pencil skirt and white top pair together to create a professional style that shows I mean business, and the heels are the cherry on top. I look like a total boss. The kind of girl who could take on anything. And that's exactly who I'm determined to be today.
MY ATTITUDE STAYS FIRMthroughout the whole taxi ride to the conference center. Confident. Strong. Fearless. Like there's nothing about today that can change who or what I am. But the second I step out of the cab and it pulls away, all those positive thoughts dissipate.
Fixating my eyes on the building, I realize that he's in there. The man who was meant to protect me, but only did the opposite. The one who stole my innocence, my laughter, my love for myself. The man who stole my childhood. The sick fuck of a man who should never get the right to be called a father is inside, and I'm going to need to share air with him.
Everything starts to feel intensified. The sun is too hot as it beats down on my dark gray jacket. My palms are sweaty, and I might be on the verge of hyperventilating as I think about needing to face the same man I haven't seen in over ten years.
I don't think I can face him.
Not alone.
My chest hurts the same way it did a week ago as I slide my phone out of my pocket and dial the number of the only person who can help me. It rings a couple times but ultimately goes to voicemail.
"Hey this is Carter," the recording plays back. "Leave a message. Or don't. I don't really give a fuck."
