I know what I’ve done is wrong, and so does my dad. He’s given me the refuge I needed to lick my wounds, the support I needed to not only survive but somewhat thrive. However, it’s been two years, and it’s well past the time for me to do the right thing.
“Can’t live your life scared,” my dad states.
“Scared or smart?” I ask.
He snorts. “Now, Wrenny. I didn’t think I raised you to keep something like this a secret from the other person it involves. It’s not a one-sided secret, and you know it. There are too many potentially involved people in this for you to be scared a minute longer.”
He’s right—he didn’t. But I’ve kept it a secret for two years, and now it feels too late to say something. Plus, it’s much easier to live a life of denial rather than actually face any of it—at least, that’s what I tell myself.
“It’s never too late, but I do think it’s time.”
“What am I going to do? Just show up?” I ask.
He hums. “You know where to find him?”
I haven’t told my father whohimis yet. Not that I think it would matter if I did, but it just feels very… private. Almost likehedoes need to know first before anyone else. Although, I probably should have said something two years ago rather than now.
“I do,” I confess.
“You need money to get to Ohio?”
Shaking my head, I clear my throat. “You know I don’t.”
Dropping out of Case Western Reserve University was not part of my life’s plan. However, just because we make plans doesn’t mean that everything falls into place the way we envision it.
When I discovered my predicament, I packed my life into my car and left without looking back.
Honestly, I ran scared shitless.
It was selfish of me to run like that. I knew it then, and two years later, I know it now. I’m just scared to death to admit my mistakes. Because I’ve taken something away from someone that I can never give back, and the guilt consumes me.
“Going there doesn’t mean you don’t have a place right here. All it means is that you’re going to do your best to make this right. You’ve had the ball in your court for far too long. Give it to him. He may surprise you.”
Only my father would say that. Only he would give me the grace I don’t deserve and assume that I knew this man well enough that I chose a good one. Even with the way my mom treated him, leaving him and abandoning me, he still gives every single person grace.
What he doesn’t know, though, is that my conversation withhimwas about an hour of texting and about five minutes in person before we slept together, and then he left as soon as I closed my eyes.
He doesn’t know any of that.
And I’m not going to ever be the one to tell him, either.
I’m embarrassed by my actions and even more humiliated that I was so bad in bed that Eli couldn’t even look me in the eyes the next morning.
I can’t imagine what he’s going to say when he realizes what that one night produced—or rather,who.
TWO
ELI
Our celebration lasts wellinto the early morning hours. Although I steer clear of women, I don’t even talk to one who isn’t Clara or one of her friends. That doesn’t mean I didn’t drink a lot, a hell of a lot, because I did.
Moaning, I place my hand on my face, scrubbing it down to my chin, and wish that I didn’t get completely shit-faced last night.
Pushing myself up, I throw my legs over the side of the bed. The cool laminate floor is a welcome sensation to my otherwise hot body. The booze sweats are fucking real. Blinking, I groan as the room continues to spin slightly around me.
Letting out a heavy sigh, I force myself to stand and shuffle toward the bathroom. Once I’ve taken care of business and tried like hell not to puke, I make my way toward the kitchen and the jar of pickles in the fridge.
Shakily, I reach for the jar on the top shelf and unscrew the lid, tossing it onto the counter before I lift the jar to my lips.
