28. Dottie
28
DOTTIE
I try so hard not to cry, but it's impossible. I've never told this full story. Not outside of therapy, anyway. Even that day, when I'd walked miles out of town and finally broke down and called Kira, asking if I could stay at her dad's cabin for a bit, I gave her the TL;DR version.
I'm pretty sure it went something like this-
"Dottie, where have you been?
"My mom is a cunt and I'm getting the hell out of here. Can I stay at the cabin?"
"Yup, oh and you're coming to USC with me when summer semester starts. You can sleep in my dorm. Love you!"
The McKenna's are unflinchingly loyal. They don't ask questions when the people they love are in trouble.
The only saving grace for my pride as the tears start to fall down my cheeks is that I don't have to face Stephen while it happens. I'm in his lap, my back to his chest. He knows I'm crying, of course. I'm not a cute crier. I'm sniffly and sobby, and he keeps swiping at my cheeks with his thumbs. I lean into him, allowing his body heat to wrap around me for as long as possible, because I'm certain that at any moment he's going to get up and storm off.
I might, if the roles were reversed. It's a terrible reason to have left. Just ghosted like the eleven years he and I shared meant nothing to me. And then to have the audacity to just show back up in his town and fall into his bed like it never happened?
Fuck storming off. If I was him, I'd push me into the lake.
I feel him stirring behind me and I brace myself for the abandonment. At least we're here. If we were at his place, I'd be getting kicked out. At least here on McKenna Mountain, I can go up to the guest room with my tail between my legs and lick my wounds. Stephen's chest heaves, and for a moment I think he might be crying, too. But then he…
Snorts.
He snorts. And chuckles.
Before I know it, he is full on belly-laughing, clutching at my waist for dear life as he loses himself to the laughter.
I maneuver myself around, turning to look at him. He does have tears in his eyes, but they're from all the laughing. I can't help it. I start to giggle too.
Then the giggle turns bigger. Louder .
Before I know it, we're both gasping for air and I'm holding my stomach as my abs ache from the pressure.
I blow out, catching my breath as Stephen runs a hand over his facial hair, our laughter subsiding.
"What in the world is so funny?" I ask, braving the question.
"It's just. God. There was a time back then when I thought-" he snorts. "I thought maybe you left because I was bad at sex."
My eyes go wide, and then I burst out into another fit of giggles. He clasps my face in his hands and pulls me to him, and through our laughs, he kisses me sweetly. We melt into it, kissing and caressing as the songbirds whistle in the woods surrounding us.
When we pull apart, I hold his gaze, searching for something in his eyes.
"I don't understand you, you know. If I were you, I would be so mad."
He looks at me, then up at the sky, and then back down at me. His hands run up and down my back, sliding under his hoodie and grazing my bare skin.
"I was mad, a long time ago. And I was sad. But now? I don't know. I think I get it. Even before this morning, when it was all still a mystery, I just got it. We were both so young. When you're young, you think you know everything, and everyone else around you assumes that you know nothing. And at the same time, you're expected to be an adult, to fend for yourself, to make all the right decisions all the time. Being eighteen years old is fucking impossible for a regular person. Throw in your mom feeding you all that bullshit over and over again, and I'm just happy you survived it." His eyes are soft and molten, and I want to kiss him, hold him, tell him it would be different if I could do it all over again, but…
"Stephen. The thing is, even knowing what I know now, I wouldn't change it. If I had to do it all over again, I'd still leave." My lips tremble, and he pulls me just a little bit closer.
"I know. You had to go. That house, this town, it dulled your shine. It sucked, and I hated it. But you had to go. I understand that, even though it hurt."
"How do you not hate me?" I whisper, and he gives me a half smile.
"I could never hate you. I can't even find it in me to hate the woman who gave birth to you. Although I could kill her for putting her hands on you. But I don't hate her."
"Okay, are you some sort of saint or something? You don't even hate my mom? "
He shrugs.
"I hate what she did to you. I hate that she got into your head. I hate that she hurt you. But I don't hate her. I'm thankful for her. If there hadn't been her, there wouldn't be you. And I really, really, like you, sweetheart."
My chest swells and aches. It's too much. He's too much. He's still too good, too kind, too bright. He's so much better than me. And I'm falling for him all over again anyway.