Micha


The leaves have fallen from the trees and the air has cooled, but it’s nothing compared to Star Grove. It’s almost time to go home for Christmas break, and Christmas seems to be everywhere. Ella is still being stubborn about it. I try multiple times to convince her to go with me, but every time she declines politely.


Two nights before Ethan and I are supposed to leave just happens to be my first gig at The Hook Up. It’s Friday night and every table and booth is full. People crowd the bar, yelling out orders to the bartender, a midtwenties woman with bright tattoos on her arms and dreadlocks and a piercing in her nose. There are red and green lights strung up along the ceiling and a Christmas tree centerpiece on each table.


It’s been a while since I played by myself and there’s unnatural nervous energy pouring through my blood. From the back doorway, my eyes scan the room, taking in the noisy people.


Someone pinches my ass from behind and I spin around. “What the fuck?”


Ella smiles brightly at me. “You’re nervous.”


My eyes stroll lazily down her body. Her hair is done up in this messy twist with bits and pieces framing her face, her full lips shine in the light, and she’s got this short, green, thin-strapped shirt on and a pair of skin-tight jeans that hug every inch of her curves. “Get real, pretty girl. You know I never get nervous.”


“You look nervous,” she repeats, dragging her bottom lip between her teeth.


I trace my finger across her red lips. “You look a little nervous yourself.”


She nips playfully at my finger, startling me and turning me on. “I’m only nervous for you.”


Ever since we left New York, our relationship has been on a strict friends basis. She seemed to close the door when we returned to our real lives so I backed off, even though I didn’t want to.


“Did you come back here just to psych me out?” I joke to cover up the sexual tension. I rake my hands through my hair and glance over my shoulder at the people pouring in through the front door. “Because that is very mean of you.”


She throws her arms around my neck and bites at my earlobe. “I’m feeling very mean tonight.”


Gently pushing her back by the shoulder, I notice her eyes are glossy and dilated. “Are you drunk?”


She bobs her head up and down, looking cute as hell. “I had a rough night so Lila gave me some shots of Bacardi.”


“Lila gave you Bacardi?” I question with a doubtful arch of my eyebrow. “She doesn’t seem like the Bacardi type.”


“Well… Ethan gave it to her.” She teeters to the side, falling toward the floor, and my arm snakes around her waist.


I help her recompose her balance and keep a hand on her side. “Are you going to be okay?”


“I’ll be fine…” Her eyes drift to the middle of the room where people are dancing beneath the bright lights. “We should dance.”


Suppressing a laugh, I scoot us to the side when a group of rough-looking guys walks by. I turn her back to the wall and she leans against it while I brace a hand possessively beside her head. “Ella May, I have to play in, like, five minutes. I can’t dance right now.”


She pouts out her bottom lip, sulking and batting her eyelashes. “Pretty please.”


“Ella…” I start through a laugh and then my shoulders jerk upward as one of her hands rubs up the front of my jeans over my hard cock. I snag her hand before she can stick it down the front of my jeans. “Baby, I think you might be a little drunk, so take it easy, okay?”


Her free hand begins to seek the same area when Ethan and Lila appear in the doorway. Ethan’s carrying a beer in his hand and Lila has a phone up to her ear, talking really loudly over the noisy room behind us.


“So she found you,” Ethan calls out with a smirk. “Thank God. She wouldn’t shut up about you.”


Ella burrows her face into my chest. “I’m tired.”


“How much did you let her drink?” I ask Ethan, annoyed. “Too much, obviously.”


Ethan shakes his head and tips his head back to take a swing of his beer. “She chose to drink. I left them out in the living room for, like, fifteen minutes while I was taking a shower, getting ready for this little shindig. When I came out, there was a half a bottle of our Bacardi missing and these two were in the kitchen drunk off their asses.”


Lila stumbles in her heels and supports herself with a hand against the wall. “Well, I don’t really give a shit what you do,” she says into the phone. “I don’t want you coming over.”


A big grin rises across Ethan’s red-tinted face as he points at Lila. “She’s breaking up with some dude over the phone. It’s fucking hilarious.”


“Are you drunk?” I accuse, stumbling backward as Ella puts all her weight against me.


Ethan nods his head. “Maybe a little.”


I smooth Ella’s hair away from her face. “Who drove?”


“We took a taxi.” Ethan gulps down his beer and sets the empty bottle down near the wall with many discarded bottles and glasses. “I’m not stupid enough to drive drunk.”
Ella cups her hand around my ear and whispers, “But he didn’t pay the cab driver. He made us jump out and run.”


I sigh and put my arm around her lower back. “Let’s go get you three sat down, so I can focus on what I need to do.”


I choose a booth in the far corner and ask the waitress who showed me where everything was to keep an eye on them and not serve them any more alcohol. They’re trashed—beyond trashed and it’s only going to lead to trouble.


Ella rests her head on the table with a sad, puppy-dog look on her face and I brush her hair away from her sweaty forehead.


I crouch down beside her and ask in a low voice, “Did something happen tonight that upset you?”


She shakes her head and turns her face away from me. “Nothing happened. I just want to go home and go to bed.”


She’s lying, but I can’t pick her brain right now. Even though it nearly kills me, I leave the table and head for the backstage area to collect my guitar. When I step out onstage and into the light, the room quiets down a little, but it’s still not the best scenario. The place is a real shithole, and for once I’d just like to play somewhere where people aren’t wasted.


I strum a chord, put my lips up to the microphone, and pour my heart out to a roomful of strangers who aren’t listening.


After the performance some big, bald dude corners me backstage in the hallway and hands me a card with his name and phone number on it.


“Hey, that was an awesome performance.” He’s got a scar running down half of his arm and a gold chain around his neck.


“Thanks,” I mumble, reading the card. “Mike Anderly.”


“And you are…” He waits for me to tell him.


“Micha,” I say, excluding my last name on purpose.


“Look, I’m gonna get straight to the point.” He talks with his hands out in front of him. “I’m a music producer. I work for a pretty small but good, honest company out in San Diego. I like your sound and I’d love to talk to you about what your future plans are in the music business.”


I stare at the card. “My future plans?”


He nods. “Yeah, with your music.”


I pick up my guitar case. “Yeah, I’m not sure what my plans are.”


“Well, when you do decide, give me a call,” he says and turns for the main room. “Like I said, I’m really interested in your sound.” He walks away and I figure he’s probably just some weirdo.


But what if he’s not? What if it’s some random act of luck? I may not have said I know what I want to do with my music, but I do. I want to play in a place that isn’t shitty, where people listen and understand. I want to be a musician.


I feel like a parent, getting the three of them home, and by the time we’re stumbling into my apartment, I’m ready for all of them to pass out. I pick up Ella and carry her back to my bed because she can barely walk.


“Keep your dick in your pants,” I advise Ethan as he ambles into the kitchen with his arm around a very intoxicated Lila. “And don’t drink anymore.”


He waves me off and Lila giggles as she opens the fridge, knocking over bottles. I descend down the hall and back to my room with Ella in my arms. Her breathing is soft and she keeps murmuring something about wanting it all to go away. It’s scaring the shit out of me.


Without putting her down, I kick my boots off into the corner with the rest of my shoes and carefully lay her down on my bed. The lights in my room are off, but the moonlight gleams through the window and onto her face, her plump lips, her beautiful, flawless pale skin.


She snuggles into my pillow and murmurs, “I’m sorry.”


I pull the blankets over her. “For what, baby?”


She sighs, disheartened. “For ruining your first performance.”


“You didn’t ruin my performance, pretty girl.” With a small smile on my face, I kiss her cheek. “I love you. Now go to sleep.”


By the time I get my shirt off, she’s passed out. I take a quick shower, washing the icky feeling of the night away. I’m not thrilled to have to play in places where people barely listen. I want more, and even though the guy was sketchy, I wonder if maybe he could be legitimate.


When I return to the bedroom with a towel wrapped around my waist, Ella is sitting up on the bed and the lamp is on. She has a musing look on her face, like she’s about to start some trouble.


“You’re supposed to be asleep,” I tell her, tossing my dirty clothes into the hamper and grabbing some clean pants from the top dresser drawer. It’s clear she’s checking me out, which would be great, except she’s drunk and I can’t do anything with her without feeling bad.


“I’m bored.” Her speech is slightly slurred and her eyes are red. “Can we do something?”


I climb into bed and sit down next to her. “I think we should go to sleep. It’s late.”


“Ethan and Lila are still awake.” She retrieves a bottle of Jack that was hidden behind her back, twists off the cap, and flicks it to the foot of the bed. “They’re playing strip poker.”


My eyes enlarge. “Right now.”


She bobs her head up and down. “They’ve already both taken off their shirts.”


“Were you just out there?”


“Yeah, where do you think I got this?” She shakes the bottle in front of my face and my hand darts out to steal it away, but she jerks her hand back, laughing. “Uh-huh. No way, Micha Scott. Not until you play with me.” She kneels up in front of me and swings her leg over my lap, tipping her head back to take a gulp. She gags, before her face turns serious. “You remember that time… that night my mom died?”


My body constricts. “How could I forget that night?”


There’s a mischievous look in her green eyes, and I wonder where the fuck this conversation is heading. “You remember how you kissed me before climbing down that tree?”


I nod, wrapping my fingers around her waist. “Of course I remember, but I’m surprised you do.” Because she was just about as drunk that night as she is now.


She licks her lips seductively. “It was a nice kiss, wasn’t it?”


I remove the bottle from her hands and force down a big swig, knowing I’m going to need it. I’ve never seen this side of her and even though she’s drunk, I am really fucking curious what lies ahead. “It was a very nice kiss.”


She leans forward and places her hands on my shoulders. “We should do it again.”


An internal struggle develops inside me over what’s right and what’s wrong and she softly presses her lips to mine. She rarely kisses me first and it’s a nice change, to know I’m wanted.


“You’re so sexy.” Her finger draws along my stomach muscles and my breath hitches. “I used to secretly stare at you all the time when you would work on cars with your shirt off.”


I try not to laugh at the secret she’s divulged and playfully trail kisses down her jawline to distract her from her confession. “How about we go see what Lila and Ethan are up to.”


Giggling, she leaps off the bed and knocks the lamp over. Not bothering to pick it up, she backs toward the hall. “If you want me in bed, you’re going to have to come get me first.” She takes off running.


I slip on a pair of jeans and a shirt, grab the bottle of Jack, and go out into the kitchen where Ethan and Lila are sitting at the table with their shirts off and cards out in front of them. Ella slumped over the fridge door, digging noisily through the beers.


Ethan drops the cards down on the kitchen table and surrenders his hands. “Lila talked me into it.”


Lila gazes up at me with little recognition. “It’s true. I did.”


I drop down in the seat between them and take a shot. “Alright, I’m giving up on trying to stop this regrettable night.” I collect the cards and shuffle them. “So don’t come crying to me when you’re all naked and cold.”


Ella


I didn’t plan on drinking this much, and I feel guilty for dragging Micha and everyone else into my mess. But I wanted to forget for two goddamn seconds that my father is going home for Christmas and invited Dean and Caroline back to the house for the weekend, but not me. I had to hear what was going on when Dean called and asked me where the key to the Cutlass were because he was planning on fixing it up and selling it or some shit—I hung up on him before I heard the full story.


Then the letter arrived from my dad. The freaking letter that I just couldn’t open, because it felt like whatever was in it could potentially crush my world into a billion pieces.


By the time we showed up to Micha and Ethan’s house, I was verging on a panic attack and I’d forgotten to take my medication that morning.


When Ethan had gone to take a shower, Lila pulled out a bottle of Bacardi and ordered me to spill my guts over a few drinks. A few turned into a very long blurry line and suddenly it’s several hours later. I have cards in my hand, a beer up to my lips, and a very intense game of strip Texas Hold’em going on. My shirt’s on the floor, along with my socks and boots.


Ethan and Lila left the house to go make a beer run. Micha made them give him the keys to the truck so he knew they would walk instead of trying to drive. Micha and I keep the game going, both of us determined to win. My drunken state has simmered down since I switched to beer, but my ability to make good choices is hindered.


Micha sits across the table from me, mulling over his cards. “I think I’ll raise you your bra.”


I shake my head with my eyes narrowed at him. “No way. Only one article of clothing per hand.”


He flicks his lip ring with his tongue, trying to seduce me and play dirty. “And who made up those rules?”


“I did.” I circle my finger above my head. “See this invisible crown right here. That means I’m the Queen of Poker and therefore I get to make up any rule whenever I want.”


An off-pitch laugh bursts from his lips. “That motion you made is for a halo, not a crown, and an angel is something you’re not.”
My jaw drops and I throw a chip at him, hitting him in the chest. “I am so an angel.”


“Ow.” He rubs his nipple where the chip scraped. “That was vicious.”


I nip my teeth at the air and then laugh, taking a drink of my beer. “Now back to the game. What do you have?”


He taps his fingers on the table, eyeing his cards and then targets an inside-melting gaze on me. “I want to up the bet,” he says, and when I start to gripe, he adds, “If you win you get my signed Silverstein shirt, but if I win you have to get naked.”


My heart thumps deafeningly in my chest. “I thought you said you’d never give me that shirt—that it was your pride and joy for getting it signed.”


He gives a blasé shrug. “I’m making an exception right now.”


I measure the pair of queens in my hand and the one laid down on the table, but there is also a pair of aces dealt. Shit. “I don’t know…”


“Come on, Ella May,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. “Loosen up.”


From over my cards, I glare at him. “I’ll tell you what. If you lose you give me the shirt, but if I lose I’ll take off my bra and jeans, but the panties are staying on.”


Micha chuckles and takes a shot. “That’s not very fun.”


I roll my eyes. “I’ve seen you play poker with girls like this before and you never offer up anything this rewarding unless you have a good hand and know you’ll win.”


“And I’ve seen you play enough times that I know you won’t back down from a good challenge,” he retaliates, slamming the bottle onto the table. “So come, pretty girl, are you in or out?”


I consider it, but not for very long, and lay my cards down on the table. “I’m in. Now what do you have?”


A soon as his lips turn upward, I know how it ends. He slaps his cards down on the table. “Get naked, Ella May.”


“You had the fucking ace.” I smack some of the cards off the table and they float to the floor. “I knew you had it.”


He continues to grin. “And yet you kept playing. Now get naked.”


I stare inanely at him. “That wasn’t fair. You tricked me.”


His eyes hold mine powerfully as he pats his hands on the table. “That was a totally fair hand and you know it, so stop being a baby and hand over your losings.”


Staring him down, I come to the conclusion that there’s no point in fighting. Keeping my eyes on him, I get to my feet and carry my chin high.


He raises a finger as he shoves the chair away from the table. “Just a second.” He saunters into the living room and disappears out of my sight.


Confused, I start to head for the doorway to find out what he’s doing, but as soon as my foot inches forward, the stereo clicks on and I stop as “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails clicks on.


“You have got to be kidding me?” I mumble as Micha struts into the kitchen with a pleased grin on his face as he rubs his hands together. “No way. Music was not part of the deal.”


He braces his hands on the door frame and the light highlights the muscles on his chest and the shameless blaze in his aqua eyes. “Now, most guys would have gone with some sexy song you had to dance to, but I’m a lyrical man myself and I think this song fits perfectly.”


The lyrics make my cheeks heat. “In no way, shape, or form did I offer up a striptease.”


His tongue slips slowly out of his mouth and when he pulls it back in, he draws his lip ring with it as his fingers comb through his disheveled hair, leaving strands sticking up. “Pay up, pretty girl.”


Pressing my lips firmly together to bury my nerves, I reach around to the back of my bra and unclasp it. Wavering temporarily, I inhale an insecure breath, release the fabric from my fingers, and allow it to fall to the floor.


His eyes drift to my chest, unashamed, as he sips a beer. When he pulls the bottle away from his lips, he makes a motion with his finger. “Continue.”


I want to smack him upside the head, but I unbutton my jeans. With my knees shaking, I step out of my pants and stand vulnerable in the spotlight, something I despise. Thankfully, I’m wearing boy-cut panties so at least my ass is covered. His eyes lazily move up my long legs, across my bare stomach, finally resting on my eyes.


“You can sit down now,” he says like he’s the boss.


Proving a point, I walk across the kitchen and steal a beer from the fridge. “I don’t have to sit down just because you tell me to—”


Warm fingers grip my side and reel me around, snatching the beer from my hand as my back presses against the fridge door. Micha stands only a sliver of space away from me, eyes fierce, lips tantalizing, his expression yearning with need.


He leans in to kiss me, but my hand pushes at his chest, and his bare skin is warm as I hold him back. “No way. You didn’t win anything but a show.”


Lowering my head, I duck under his arm, but he snags my wrist and pins it above my head kind of roughly. We’re drunk and neither of us is thinking rationally, but my interest in what’s coming renders me motionless.


His pupils are so large only a ring of aqua is left. His breath is hot against my cheek as he takes my other arm and confines it above my head so my body is exposed to him. It seems like I should be nervous, but excitement bubbles through my very starved body.


He inclines toward me and his chest brushes my tingling nipples. “Do you want me to stop?” His voice is husky.


I shake my head with honesty. “No.”


The thumb of his free hand travels down my side and along each rib before settling on my hipbone. Wetting his lips with his tongue, he moves his mouth toward my breast and my eyes close as he takes my nipple in his mouth.


“Oh my God,” I moan as ecstasy shoots up between my legs and coils through my stomach as my back curves into him. “Micha…”


He releases my arms, and before an objection departs my lips, his picks me up and smashes his lips into mine. I vice-grip my legs around his hips and my lips open willingly, allowing his tongue to enter my mouth for a heart-stopping kiss. Backing toward the sofa blindly, his hands feel all over my skin, leaving a trail of heat everywhere.


“Not on the couch,” I murmur. “Lila and Ethan could be back at any moment.”


He gives a glance at the front door and then turns us in the direction of the hallway. His fingers sneak up the bottom of my panties and cup my ass as he kicks his bedroom door open hard with his foot and the doorknob bangs into the wall. Without our lips parting, we fall onto the mattress with a bounce. Giggling, my fingers slide down his hard chest and to the button of his jeans, but he halts my hand with his.


“Ella, maybe we shouldn’t,” he says, blinking dazedly through the alcohol.


I manage to slip my other hand down the front of his jeans and his breath falters. “You don’t want me?” I ask.


Sucking a sharp breath through his nose, his head slumps forward as I rub him and drive him crazy. “Trust me, that’s not it. I think we…”


I hit the right spot and all his thoughts drift away. His lips pursue mine again and he kisses me freely as his hand slides down my stomach and to the edge of my panties. Hooking his finger into the top, he yanks them down my legs and when they reach my feet, I kick them off.


Instead of his lips returning to my mouth, they endeavor to my stomach just above my belly button. Smoothing kisses down my skin, his warm tongue licks a path all the way down and my legs open up so his tongue can slip inside me and my mind becomes even foggier.


When my eyes open, sunlight filters into the room and my head is pounding. A blanket is bunched up over me and my pores feel icky. Wiping the sweat from my cheek, I sit up and glance down at the signed Silverstein T-shirt covering my body.


A smile breaks through as I spot a folded-up piece of paper on the pillow beside me and pick it up. Micha’s handwriting is scribbled across the lines in red ink.


Hey beautiful,


So that was quit the drunken night… never done one of those with you before. I think I might have a new song to add to our list.


Anyway, don’t get all worked up. I stopped it before it got too far, in case you can’t remember. I didn’t want you to have to suffer through a drunken mistake. Trust me, I’m an expert at them and they’re not fun.


I hate to bail on you, but I got to go to work. I’ll stop by your place later. And you can keep the shirt. It looks better on you anyway.


Love you more than life itself, more than the sun and the air.


You own my soul, Ella May.


Micha


Still smiling, I climb out of bed and slip my jeans on. Leave it to Micha to sign a letter like that. He’s always had such a poetic way with words and his beauty shines with each letter.


Grabbing my shirt off the floor, I depart for the front door, folding up the note carefully and tucking it safely into the back pocket of my jeans. I feel light, even though I’m hungover. I don’t regret what happened, although it would have been nice if we were sober. The feeling is strange, but maybe that means I’m getting better at dealing with life.


The living room is trashed, beer bottles all over the floor and coffee table, and there’s an empty Bacardi bottle on the table, along with scattered poker cards. Getting a garbage bag from the kitchen drawer, I rack my brain for where my phone and purse are. I remember being at the club, Micha playing on stage, and then coming here and his hands all over me. My eyelids drift shut as I remember every moment of it.


“Only One” by Yellowcard begins playing from somewhere in the room and my eyes snap open. With my ears perked up, I follow the sound, which guides me to the couch. Under a frayed throw pillow is my phone. My eyebrows scrunch as I scoop it up, not recognizing the ringtone. When I glance at the screen, however, it makes sense.


I answer the phone. “Did you change my ringtone for you?”


His laughter fills the other end of the line. “It seemed fitting this morning.”


“It seems like you’re trying to send me a message through your notes and your song choice.” I collect a bottle from off the top of the television and drop it into the bag. “You know I’m not mad about last night, right? I was sober enough that I can remember stuff… You don’t have to feel guilty.”
“I don’t feel guilty,” he assures me over banging in the background. “I’m glad last night happened. The note and the song were my way of sending you a message.”


Bending down, I pick up an empty beer carton and toss it into the bag, then tie it shut and drop it outside the front door, leaving the door open to grab my purse, which is near the television. “What message?”


“That’s for you to figure out.”


“And what if I can’t figure it out?”


“You will,” he responds. “But whether or not you say it out loud is a whole other story.”


He’s right. I already have it figured out, but saying it out loud is something I can’t quite do.


“You’re being very cryptic.” Stepping outside into the warm sunshine, I shut the front door and drag the garbage bag down the stairs with the bottles clinking together. At the bottom, my eyes scan the parking lot. “How am I supposed to get home?”


“You could stay there until I get home,” Micha offers. “Or better yet, you could just move in.”


My lungs compress, reducing the flow of oxygen as his heavy words crumble my mood. “I have to get home. I have a class tonight.”


“Since when do you have class at night?” he questions. “Are you just saying that because of my little moving-in remark?”


I don’t bother picking up the bag as I trudge toward the Dumpster and heave it inside. “No, I really have class,” I lie. “I’ll call you a little bit later, okay? I need to find a ride home.”


“Alright.” His tone is clipped. “I’ll talk to you later, I guess.”


He hangs up before I can and it leaves me feeling hollow, like a part of me has been removed. Shaking the sensation away, I punch Lila’s number into the keypad.


“Well, look who decided to finally wake up,” she answers with humor radiating from her voice. “Did you do the walk of shame?”


“Micha and I didn’t have sex, Lila,” I respond in a snippy voice and then, feeling terrible, apologize. “I’m sorry. I’m just hungover or something. And I need to get home and lay down, but I don’t have a ride.”


“You could take the bus.” She pops a bubble into the phone. “Although I wouldn’t recommend it.”


“How did you get home?” I press my fingertips to the brim of my nose as my headache from hell surges.


“Ethan gave me a ride.” A door slams and I hear keys hit the counter. “I was actually just out to lunch with Parker.”


“I thought you were done with him.”


“Hey, he insisted.”


I start toward the exit that is situated near a brick wall. “Alright, I’ll track down a bus.”


“God luck with that. And watch out for the licker,” she jokes with an evil laugh. “Keep your elbows tucked in and stay away from the back of the bus.”


“Ha-ha, you’re a freaking riot,” I say derisively. “Talk to you later.”


I drag my exhausted legs toward the Starbucks at the corner of the street. After I have some caffeine in my system, my brain turns back on. But by the time I reach the apartment and recollect what made me drink that much in the first place, all I want to do is go to my room, turn the lights off, and sleep for an eternity. The letter from my dad still lies on the coffee table, unopened.


“Are you ever going to open that?” Lila appears in the doorway, dressed in a blue dress and heels that match. Her blonde hair is curled around her face and pinned by a few diamond barrettes.


Slipping off my sandals, I drop down on the couch and stare at the white envelope addressed to me. “I haven’t decided yet.”


Clipping an earring in, she sits down beside me on the couch. “Ella, can I ask you something?”


I shrug and cross my feet up on the table. “I guess.”


She picks up the letter and flips it over to the back. “What are you so afraid of? With this letter? With Micha? With life?”


“Feeling it all—losing it all,” I say and her face twists. “It’s nothing. I’m just not sure what my dad is going to say and it kind of worries me.”


Lila doesn’t know about what happened with my mother. She knows she passed away, but not the circumstances leading to her death. Only my dad, Dean, and Micha know that haunting secret and I plan on keeping it that way.


I tear the envelope, taking a deep breath, and unfold the paper, telling myself that I can handle whatever’s in there. That I’m stronger than I used to be.


Ella May,


I want to start off by saying I’m sorry for everything. And I mean that. I’ve been sober for almost a month now and they took me off the meds. My head’s clear and I don’t like what’s in it, especially everything related to you.


My therapist had me write down everything I regretted in therapy yesterday and it all seemed to be about you. It was like we all piled our garbage on you to clean up and it never should have been that way. The more I wrote, the more I realized you never really had a childhood. All those times I spent at the bar, I was being nothing but selfish. I’m a terrible father who put everything on his daughter, for no other reason than I didn’t want to be an adult.


That night was not your fault. You were seventeen and I was the adult. I should have been home with her, but Jack Daniels was much more important and easier to deal with.


I knew how bad she was, more than you’ll ever understand, and deep down I knew I was wrong when I left you in charge that night. Now that my head is clear, I can imagine how hard it must be for you to deal with. All the pain you have to be feeling. I keep thinking about the pain in your eyes the last time I saw you and it eats away at me.


I’m sorry, Ella. For ruining you childhood, for taking away your happiness, and just for messing up your fucking future.


I love you.


Dad


“What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?” My hands shake as I clutch the letter in my hand. Tears pour out of my eyes as I force my lungs to breathe in and out as a wall around me crashes to the ground.