38. Break Me Down – Lauren
38
brEAK ME DOWN
LAUREN
T he late afternoon sun shines across the countertop where I'm attempting to help Roman with his alphabet worksheet. My mind, however, is nowhere near the ABCs.
It's been three weeks since I asked Dakota for space. Three weeks of silence that feels both necessary and unbearable. I miss him. God, I miss him. But I know I needed this time to focus on myself, on Roman, on my studies.
A knock at the door startles me from my reverie.
"Mommy, someone's here!" Roman announces excitedly, always eager for visitors.
"I know, sweetie. Stay here and keep working on your letters, okay?"
I open the door to find a sleek, professional-looking woman standing on my porch. Her crisp suit and perfectly coiffed dark hair seem out of place in our modest neighborhood.
"Lauren Hudson?" she asks, her voice clipped and efficient.
I nod, suddenly self-conscious of my messy ponytail and the stain on my t-shirt from Roman's lunch.
"I'm Cassidy Townsend, the lawyer for Blackmore Records." She extends a hand, which I shake automatically, my mind reeling. Blackmore Records. Dakota's label.
"Is everything okay?" I ask, my heart rate picking up. "Is Dakota?—"
"Dakota is fine," she interrupts smoothly, a gentleness and reassurance now in her voice. "I'm here on his behalf to deliver this." She holds out a large manila envelope, sealed and unmarked.
I take it. The weight of it surprises me. "What is it?"
"The police report he requested," Cassidy says, her expression now sympathetic. "He asked me to tell you that it's entirely up to you whether you want to open it or not. He'll respect your decision either way."
The police report. About Miles and Chloe. My hands start to shake slightly.
"Thank you," I manage to say.
Cassidy nods and hesitates briefly. "Take care, Lauren."
As she walks back to her car, I close the door, leaning against it for support. The envelope in my hands suddenly feels like it weighs a ton.
"Mommy?" Roman's voice pulls me back to reality. "Who was that lady?"
"Just... just someone delivering something for Mommy," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "How about we take a break from letters and watch a movie?"
Roman cheers, the alphabet forgotten, as I set up his favorite cartoon. But even as I sit next to him on the couch, my mind is elsewhere.
The envelope sits on the kitchen counter, a ticking time bomb of information. Do I want to know what's inside? Do I want to uncover the truth about Miles and Chloe? And what will it mean for Dakota and me if I do?
I think about Dakota, about the effort it must have taken to get this report, to respect my need for space and send it through a lawyer instead of coming himself. I think about the past few weeks and how I've thrown myself into my studies and into being there for Roman. How I've tried not to think about Dakota and failed miserably.
The truth is, I love him. Despite everything, despite my fears and doubts, I love him. But is love enough? Is it enough to overcome addiction, distance, and the ghosts of our pasts?
As Roman laughs at something on screen, I make a decision. I'll open the envelope. Whatever's inside, I'll face it. Because that's what I do now – I face things head-on, for myself and for Roman.
But not tonight. Tonight, I'll sit here with my son and enjoy this moment of peace. Tomorrow is soon enough to uncover the secrets of the past.
For now, I let myself remember Dakota's smile, and the sound of his laugh. I let myself hope that maybe, just maybe, we can find our way back to each other.
But first, I need to find my way back to myself.
The manila envelope sits on my kitchen table, its edges crisp and unmarked, a stark contrast to the scattered crayons and cheerios that surround it. I can almost feel its presence, a physical weight in the room.
My fingers drum an anxious rhythm on the worn wooden tabletop. The house is quiet, too quiet without Roman's chatter or the usual background noise of cartoons. The silence feels oppressive, amplifying the thoughts swirling in my head.
I need to talk this through with someone, and I know exactly who to call.
I dial Shannon's number, my hands shaking slightly. She picks up on the second ring.
"Lauren? Is everything okay?"
I let out a shaky breath. "Hey, Shan. I... I need some advice."
There's a rustling on the other end, and I can picture Shannon settling in for a serious conversation. "I'm all ears. What's going on?"
I explain about the envelope, about Cassidy's visit, about Dakota's message that it's my choice whether to open it or not. As I speak, I pace the kitchen, my bare feet cool against the linoleum floor.
"Wow," Shannon says when I finish. "That's... a lot. How are you feeling about all this?"
I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Honestly? I feel like I'm on a roller coaster. One minute, I'm curious and almost excited to finally know the truth. The next, I'm terrified of what I might find out."
"That's understandable," Shannon says softly. "It's a big decision."
"It's not just the envelope," I admit, sinking onto a kitchen chair. "It's Dakota, it's us. I miss him. God, I miss him so much it hurts sometimes. But I'm also still scared."
"Scared of what, exactly?"
I close my eyes, feeling the sting of tears. "Of getting hurt again. Of putting my heart on the line. Of falling in love with an addict."
"But Dakota's not Miles," Shannon points out again gently.
"I know that. Logically, I know that. But emotionally..." I trail off, unsure how to express the tangle of feelings in my chest.
"Lauren," Shannon's voice is firm but kind. "Can I be honest with you?"
"Always."
"I think you're using this envelope and the space between you and Dakota as an excuse. You're scared, and that's okay. But at some point, you have to decide if what you and Dakota have is worth the risk."
Her words hit me hard. I feel my chest tighten, my breath coming in short gasps. "You think I'm being a coward?"
"No," Shannon says firmly. "I think you're being human. But I also think you're stronger than you give yourself credit for. You've been through so much. You can handle this, too."
I wipe away a tear that's escaped down my cheek. "So, what do you think I should do?"
"I can't make that decision for you," Shannon says. "But if it were me? I'd wait until Dakota's back from tour. Then I'd sit down with him and open that envelope together. Whatever's inside, you'll face it as a team."
"But what if..." I start, then stop, swallowing hard.
"What if what?" Shannon prompts.
"What if what's inside changes everything? What if it ruins any chance Dakota and I have?"
Shannon is quiet for a moment. "Or what if it brings you closer? What if knowing the truth helps you both heal and move forward together?"
I hadn't considered that possibility. The thought sends a flutter of hope through my chest. "You really think that's possible?"
"I think anything's possible," Shannon says. "But you'll never know if you don't take the risk."
After we hang up, I look at the envelope again. My heart is racing, and I can feel a thin sheen of sweat on my palms. But for the first time since it arrived, the envelope doesn't feel like a ticking time bomb. Instead, it feels like... a possibility. A chance for truth, for healing, for moving forward.
I pick up my phone again, and before I can second-guess myself, I type out a text to Dakota.
ME: Hey. I hope the tour is going well. When you're back, we should talk. About us, about the envelope, about everything. I miss you.
My finger hovers over the send button for a long moment. Then, taking a deep breath, I press it.
It's a small step, but it's a step forward.