Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
“No,” Ian stresses. “You aren’t. You were just a kid when that shit came out about me. Just a lonely kid who needed someone to be there for her. I’m never going to forgive myself for not being there for you more back then.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I mutter.
“Then it wasn’t yours either,” he counters.
“It just feels like if I wasn’t around…all of your lives would have been better.”
“Listen to me, Abby.” Ian’s hands come to cup my shoulders, turning me toward him.
“You are smart and kind and caring, and you make all of our lives better by being in them. I don’t want you to doubt that for a single second.
I’m sorry that I don’t tell you this more often, but I’m glad that you’re in my life.
I’m glad that we found each other, even if the circumstances are a little off.
I want you at my wedding. I want you to be in Kyle’s life when he comes home to us.
I want you to be an aunt to any other kids we have along the way.
I want you there for birthdays and Christmas.
I just want you around, do you understand?
I don’t regret meeting you for one second, and I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise. ”
I can feel my eyes leaking fully now, a choked sob catching in my throat.
“And if this thing with Jack is anything serious,” Ian goes on, “then he would be damned lucky to have someone like you in his life, you hear me? Jack is smarter than he pretends to be. I think he would probably tell you that himself if he had the chance.”
“But he needed me,” I sob. “He needed me, and I just left him.”
“You’re only human, Abby,” Ian says, pulling me into a hug. “You’re allowed to have knee-jerk reactions. He said some hurtful shit, and that affected you. He’ll have to own up to that. But I know Jack. I know he wouldn’t hold it against you. He probably feels as shitty as you do right now.”
I’m not so sure about that, but I find myself nodding into his tearstained shirt just the same.
“I care about him a lot,” I admit quietly. “I might even—”
“Don’t say it,” Ian groans. “Jack was right about this part at least. It’s fucking weird.”
A watery laugh escapes me. “I have a feeling that he would thoroughly enjoy this conversation.”
“Oh, I have no doubt.” He pulls back to look at me. “Do you feel any better?”
“Maybe a little.”
“Well, you’re the one studying to be a shrink, not me. I can only work with what I’ve got.”
Another chuckle tumbles past my lips, and I use the heel of my hand to wipe the tears away from my eyes. “God. I think I need some air.”
“Want me to come with you?”
I shake my head. “No. I think…I just need to take a walk or something. Clear my head and figure out what I want to do next.”
“Okay.” Ian nods back at me. “But if you need me, I’m right here. You know that, right?”
My lips curl into a grin, and I feel a swelling in my chest that, for a moment, relieves the tension there. “I know.”
Ian drags me back for another tight hug. “I love you, kid.”
“Kid,” I protest.
“It’s a bad habit,” he says. “But the sentiment stands.”
I hug him back, feeling lighter than I did a moment ago. “I love you too.”
“Now go clear your head. When you get back, I’m sure you’ll know exactly what to do.”
“Okay.”
It’s only a little awkward when Ian and I break apart, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that makes me feel even lighter, and for maybe the first time, I feel like there’s a chance I’m not the burden to him that I’ve always believed myself to be.
Maybe I can finally let myself lean on him, let myself believe I deserve to.
If nothing else, I can take that away from all this.
I leave Ian at the apartment and take the elevator down to the lobby, my hands in the pockets of my jacket as I step out onto the sidewalk. It’s chilly today—cool enough that I feel my cheeks prickling with the cold—but I find I enjoy the crisp air, letting it clear my head, just like I wanted.
I know that there’s a good chance I’ll have to be the one to reach out to Jack if I want to reconcile this thing between us, and there’s a part of me that’s terrified he’ll realize that this isn’t worth the trouble, that I’m not worth the trouble.
But for the first time, I feel the incredible urge to fight for it anyway.
It’s freeing, realizing that. Realizing that there might be something in my life that I actually think I deserve.
And as if the universe has decided to remind me of where I stand, I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket as soon as I step up to the crosswalk button, fishing it out and frowning when I see my dad’s name there.
I watch it ring for several seconds, feeling anger bubbling higher and higher in my chest as I think about all the things he likely wants to say to me. All the things he thinks I deserve.
Maybe that’s the reason I swipe to answer, bringing the phone to my ear.
“It’s about time you picked up,” he says. Practically spits it, really. “Who the hell do you think you are ignoring my calls? First you go and ruin my entire life, and then you think you can just—”
“Stop,” I say forcefully.
“Excuse me?”
“Just…stop.” I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Stop calling me. Stop texting me. I don’t want to hear from you ever again.”
“You think you can just—”
“Yes,” I snap. “I can. I’m going to hang up now, and then I’m going to block this number.
If you ever contact me again, for any reason—I’m going to file a restraining order.
Do you understand? I think the mile-long list of calls and texts you’ve sent in the last few months will be more than enough grounds to do so. ”
“Why, you little bi—”
“I’m hanging up,” I say again. “But I want you to know that you didn’t win. You don’t know anything about me, and you don’t deserve to. You’re just a sad, bitter old man who has alienated any family he has left. That’s what you deserve, and I won’t be a part of it anymore.”
I hang up with shaking fingers, my heart hammering in my chest as my breath saws out of me, while I do exactly what I said and block my dad’s number.
I feel a weight lifted from my shoulders with the finality of it all.
I know there’s a good chance he will try to contact me some other way—it’s just how he is—but I feel the truth in my own words when I told him I’ll take action if he does. I finally feel free of him.
And maybe that’s what I deserve. Maybe I can finally believe that.
I’m smiling when I step off the curb, already pulling out my phone to call Jack, because suddenly it feels like I need to talk to him, to see him, hopefully.
I’m scrolling through my calls to find his name, so engrossed in what I’m doing and feeling that I barely even hear the ringing sound and the shouts that follow after it.
I don’t even notice the bike coming until it hits me.