A/N: Hi everyone! Thank you for checking out what's next in Star's story. Some might find this story quiet different from other ones I've done and I'd agree. To me, this is more than just  a love story even though that love is quite instrumental in where Star will eventually find herself in the end.

Hope you enjoy!

Make sure to vote and comment!

***

I dreaded seeing my grandmother since that incident with Hailey but it was inevitable—like a bullet heading straight for you, faster than your will to survive could dodge.

Julian and I both got up early this Sunday morning, quickly snacked on some cereal before parting ways. He had practice and I told him I would go for a run and probably work on my paper at the library. We made plans to meet up for lunch. He didn't once question the truth of my alibi and it somehow bothered me for the first time that I could lie this well.

Lying was a skill I highly prized for years—it had gotten me out of all kinds of trouble and gained me all kinds of advantages. But lately, with Julian, I haven't needed to lie about much, if withholding the full truth didn't count. No, I didn't want a full accounting of my life but in the last several days, buoyed by foolish, childish hope that would get me nowhere, I almost convinced myself that I existed in a different reality that the truth couldn't touch.

Fanciful thoughts for a girl who only knows the fucked-up facts about life.

"You look very athletic this morning," my grandmother finally said afar I took a seat across from her. I was wearing track pants, Nikes and a light gray zip-up running jacket. Of course, Selene Walterson looked no less than impeccable in a pure-white cashmere sweater, casual khaki trousers and white low-heeled slingback shoes. It didn't matter that it was seven in the morning.

I shrugged. "These clandestine breakfast meetings need the occasional cover but for this morning's specific one, I just thought I'd go for a nice long walk after breakfast."

Selene tipped her head to the side and studied me thoughtfully. "On the topic of covers, your father saw you when he came for Hailey. He knows you're in the city for the foreseeable future."

I bit off the curse that almost flew out of my mouth. I squared my shoulders instead. "I bet he's pissed that I still managed to get my hands on some Walterson money despite his best efforts."

"He didn't know that you were a straight-A student with a solid chance at a full scholarship who wouldn't have needed his help if not for the very questionable choices you made," Selene said, sitting back in her chair and lazily sipping her coffee.

I raised a brow. "When you need to survive and you have limited choices, making those seemingly questionable ones is inevitable. It's just a matter of when you become desperate enough to risk them."

Selene just narrowed her eyes as if she didn't appreciate my counter-argument. "My point is that confronted with all the facts, he would've made a different call about you. He wouldn't have turned you away."

I still remembered the night I boarded the bus to Cobalt Bay and located the office of Walterson Financial—the family banking empire—which my father ran. It wasn't hard to track down more information about him with just his name and what few details my mother could give me that night when she was stoned and drunk, ranting about my asshole father who decided he wouldn't provide child support anymore after I turned eighteen. He was now no longer obliged but my mother said he could damn well afford it. For one, I didn't even know until that time that my father had been providing child support. My mother had gambled, gotten drunk and gotten high on that child support money all these years while I was bartering my body and soul for cash to get myself by. She had the nerve to tell me that she wanted to double the money and the only way she could do that was to keep pouring it into the slot machines until she hit the jackpot. She never hit the jackpot. She only ever hit rock bottom. So when I came to Cobalt Bay, I had optimistic expectations. I didn't call him ahead of time. You could usually get your way when you don't give people too much time to analyze things.

I got myself a discreet booth in a decent diner just down the block across the street from his office. I knew he was going to be in town and in the office that day because I'd called in a week before the trip, lied and tricked my way through the system until I ended up with his secretary. I told her my high school paper wanted to interview him for his very public involvement in the city's job-matching project for people who needed employment and a sustainable financial plan. It was a way to get people out of the streets and into good jobs that would give them a stable income and the tools to make the most out of that income so they'd never have to return to the streets again. It was an initiative that served all parties—the people who needed help, the government who needed to lower unemployment rate, increase tax contribution and keep the streets homeless-free, and the general economy who benefited from people who could afford to spend money.

At that point, I had a pretty healthy respect for the man. His secretary booked me an hour with him that afternoon but just fifteen minutes before our supposed interview, I called his direct number, which my mother had, and without pause, told him my name and my instructions to meet me at the diner. I hung up and waited, resisting the urge to order some food even though my stomach was aching from hunger. The few granola bars I'd taken with me hadn't lasted as long as the over ten hours I'd spent on the bus.

Ten minutes later, he appeared—tall, dressed in a well-tailored suit and even handsome for a man his age. One glance at us and no one would think we were father-daughter. My mother was half-Spanish from her maternal side and had passed on the dark hair, dark eyes and golden skin to me. The only thing I had of my father was the cleft chin. On him, it looked intimidating. On me, it looked sultry especially paired with lips that were too full to be average. But should he require proof that we were related, I had the paternity test results my mother had kept from eighteen years ago when he'd required it of her as part of the child support arrangements.

Gareth Walterson wasn't happy to see me. I instantly saw it in his eyes the moment he sat down in the booth across from me. I had a speech drafted in my head but before I could get a word out, he told me, in a low, angry hiss, that I'd come for nothing. He wasn't going to give me any more money to throw away along with my life. He accused me of working with my mother to extort more money from him to fund our lifestyle of pure vice. That I was dating a gang leader—which was true at that time but I figured Mom told him that to make my circumstances look more dire. Probably the same reason why she also told him that I was selling drugs. I sat there, silently fuming, my initial good opinion of the man quickly burning into ashes. Ironically enough, after all that righteous ranting about money, he slapped two hundred-dollar bills on the table, told me to eat and get myself home. I gave him the dirtiest look I could manage and said, "Keep it. I only like to buy my drugs with dirty money. It maximizes the experience."

After a look of disgust, he turned and left, the money still on the table.

Despite what I said, I took it because I wasn't above taking money from a man who clearly had too much of it and one I didn't feel deserved any of it. I went home and spent a week strategizing. I was pretty certain I was going to get the scholarship to Columbia. I had a final interview with the panel in a month to ensure it. Despite being a year older than the normal graduate thanks to a couple of semesters in middle school that I skipped because my mother had been arrested and I had to stay home and keep the house from falling apart, I had excellent grade records. But to move to New York, have money to comfortably settle myself in there for good, I needed funding. And Gareth Walterson was done funding anything for me. Too bad for him because whether he wanted it or not, I had to get my hands on some Walterson money to accomplish my goal. And he hadn't taken into account that I was a dirty secret willing to be exposed if my plans required it. My mother may have not been sober enough to use the only ace she had to its maximum potential but I was. So I moved on to the next best thing—Selene Walterson. Through a few maneuvers, I managed to land myself back in Cobalt Bay, at the Lighthouse on a day that Selene Walterson was making an appearance at the staff baseball game. I waited until she was making her way back to her car and made my appearance. I told her I was her son's illegitimate child, born a year after he wed Marina Vanderbilt. Selene took a long, good look at me and ordered me to get in her car. Her driver brought us to Hotel Azurias and I proceeded to present my case to her while she listened quietly.

It was classic blackmail: I needed an X-number of dollars if they didn't want me to expose Gareth Walterson's infidelity and illegitimate child to his family and the public. I had the paternity tests, bank transfer records and even some letters exchanged between him and my mother. He didn't just do her once on that trip to Vegas. They had a full-blown affair for a month before he washed his hands of my mother. Selene remained quiet for a while after I stated my case. Then she finally asked me, "So you're willing to destroy a family, a man's good image that enables him to do more good, for money?"

I didn't bat an eye at the question and simply answered, "Families get fractured, a good image gets spat on, people fuck up, and still the world turns. Live with it. I have."

Selene was angry—although she would never dignify the emotion by actually letting it show—and she told me to leave and that she will contact me with a decision. I did and two weeks later, I got arrested and thrown into jail where I stayed for a few months. I missed my Columbia interview. The only thing I had a chance at negotiating was my acquittal at the price of throwing Ram and my brother under the bus. While I was awaiting a decision, Selene showed up in prison, and told me she was getting me out but that she, this time around, had a number of conditions I had to agree to if I wanted to be released and given what I'd come to her to ask.

The old woman and I had bargained hard with each other.

And now, here we were.

I looked straight into Selene's eyes. "I'm going to have to disagree with you on that. Why should it matter that he knew all those things about me? If I actually had the same problems he accused me of having and turned me away because of them, then why is Hailey being coddled? She's living the same wasteful life he accused me of having. So the problems are not the issue here, Selene. The issue is that I'm a fucking mistake that continues to haunt him nineteen years later—a mistake he has no interest in dealing with. A mistake he wants to just go away."

Selene narrowed her eyes. "Believe it or not, your father cares about you."

"He doesn't give a fuck about me," I snapped, my hands curling into fists. "I've seen him care about a daughter, Selene. I was there when he picked up his little girl in his arms to take her home and make it all better. I was there to watch the glaring contrast of what Hailey and I mean to him. I was there to fucking take it like a punch in the gut. I was there for him to thank for saving his precious daughter. I was there to realize a truth I already know and have absolutely no use for—that I amounted to nothing to him. So don't spin the truth on me, Selene. Spare yourself the indignity of making excuses for your son. It's insulting to both you and me."

I finally had to shut up not because I ran out of things to say but because my voice had started to break and if there was one thing I would not let myself allow in all of this, it was to break down and cry. I may have obligations in this deal but I was only in their mercy as much as they were in mine.

I didn't miss the first crack in Selene's calm exterior. Her eyes were flickering with emotions, her chin betraying the slightest tremor. She clenched and unclenched her fingers before they picked up a napkin to choke in their grasp.

"As proven by your very existence, your father is as human as we all come," she said softly. "He made a mistake when he broke his marital vows. He made a mistake in throwing money at you for years as if it could sufficiently substitute for a parent. He made a mistake in trying to forget his sins by never getting involved in your life. He made a mistake in lumping you along with your mother in his rash assumptions when he didn't know you well enough. He made a mistake in turning you away thinking that without the money, you wouldn't be further enabled to worsen your fate. And they're all mistakes he could've avoided—mistakes with consequences he could've handled better."

"But he didn't so here we are, handling it for him," I quipped with a curt smile. "Quite well too without any help."

"I have no doubt that with your intelligence and your single-minded determination, you'll get exactly what you came to me for—a college degree, some money to start new, a chance at a clean, successful life," Selene said. "But will you be happy, Star?"

"What's not to be happy about if I get everything I want?"

"And those are the only things you want?" Selene prodded. "You don't want a family, an opportunity to belong, a home?"

I raised a brow. "Who said I won't eventually have all of those once I start new?"

Selene narrowed her eyes, perfectly aware that I understood her but refused to take the conversation where she wanted it to go.

"So when you've accomplished all that you've set out to do—finish college, get a job and get far, far away—you want nothing of this life. Of this family," Selene stated.

"Nothing. I'm not part of this family, Selene. That was the point of our arrangement—that I didn't force myself in a place where I didn't belong."

The older woman seemed to have lost some of her steam and for a moment, I saw all her years plainly on her face. She was one hell of a woman—clever and strong as steel—but she wasn't invincible.

"Your father thinks there's a place for you with us," she said slowly. "And I agree. We're your family, Star, as much as that fact irritates you. It's probably time for all of us to let it out in the open so we can move on."

For a long moment, I didn't move or let anything show on my face despite the riot that was escalating inside of me. "That is total bullshit."

Selene sighed. "We're really going to have to work on your language, Star. I don't really fancy the idea of my granddaughter swearing up a storm around me."

"Then don't give me these ridiculous suggestions," I retorted, struggling with my temper.

"They're not ridiculous," the old woman said. "They're the dreams you carried secretly in your heart when you first boarded that bus to Cobalt Bay more than a year ago."

I snorted. "The only dreams I carry—and not so secretly—in my heart, are the kind that happen with money—lots of it. I've had nineteen years of having no father, Selene. I didn't come to Cobalt Bay looking for one. I came to get the money I needed from someone who had enough of it to pay his last dues to a girl he accidentally sired when he cheated on his wife."

"Will you ever stop lying to yourself, Star?" Selene asked softly.

"Jesus, Selene," I muttered with an aggravated groan. "Stop trying to make this into a fucking Days of Our Lives episode. I have no noble intentions to give you. That's not a lie. That's a truth you just won't accept."

Selene glared at me. "You're right—I won't accept it. Because you deserve more than what you'd written for yourself in this script."

I was about to launch off another retort but she took a deep breath and briefly closed her eyes and I wondered if I'd pushed the old woman too far. I quickly gave her a once-over to see if her breathing was abnormal and if her color was anything other than the flushed red her agitation was causing.

"I think I should go," I said curtly despite my best attempt to neatly box away my anger. "This conversation isn't going to go anywhere either of us wants it to go."

Selene managed a rueful smile. "Stubbornness is a well-known Walterson trait. If you didn't have your paternity results, your plain stubbornness will mark you as one of us."

"Well, in that case," I said through gritted teeth as I pushed my chair back and stood. "Watch me be stubborn."

I stalked out of there nearly shaking with frustration.

I've closed this door shut over a year ago, knowing it would never be open to me again. But now Selene was teasing me with possibilities I'd scourged out of my system that day I first laid eyes on my father and saw how little I was worth in his eyes.

The thing I survived on all my nineteen years was a very simple case of realism.

I took every hand I was dealt, no matter how ugly, and worked with it with every bit of practicality I could manage. I knew what I wanted in life—what I could realistically achieve—and made all the moves to get there. I never sat down and day-dreamed of that life. I had no moment to spare.

The only time I ever allowed myself to wonder a what-if that was much too good to be true was that day I found out my father hadn't completely abandoned me. Suddenly, I had an alternate reality—one Gareth Walterson promptly crushed with a ten-minute rant which he now apparently regretted.

He should know about life-altering mistakes that take only moments to accomplish.

I was proof of it after all.

***

I walked for what felt like an endless morning after walking out on breakfast with Selene.

I needed to clear my head, to put away all the useless thoughts and focus on what was real, on what was feasible.

Without really knowing it, I'd ended up at the library in campus where I finished the rest of my research before meeting up with Julian for a quick lunch. I was mostly back to my old self then that he didn't notice anything amiss about my mood. Not that he had a chance to.

Kit called him and said that they were watching Sunday football at his place this afternoon.

We dashed to the grocery store to grab several bags of chips and other snack items. We'd been home ten minutes, trying to put together some food when Kit, Nisha and Matt arrived, the latter carrying a pair of six-packs. We were laughing and chatting around the kitchen as we assembled some snacks—nachos, wings, chips and salsa, meatballs—when Cammi showed up with Kevin, the same guy she'd brought to Tyler's party. She was friendly, even to me, even though I could still detect the forced quality in her efforts especially when dealing with me. I was cool with it. Kevin was cute but nowhere near the natural charm Julian had but I was glad that Cammi was at least trying. Or she could be dragging him around to provoke some kind of reaction from Julian but he just seemed genuinely happy to meet the guy and probably inwardly relieved that he didn't have to feel too guilty about Cammi anymore.

"So, Star, are you going back home for Thanksgiving?" Kit asked good-naturedly after Matt mentioned they had to fly home to Chicago early next week. "Julian tends to ship out to his parents for the long weekend every year."

I didn't glance at Julian to see his reaction as I forced my features to only show a perfectly calm, friendly smile. "I'm actually sticking around. People in my family are going to be busy doing their own thing and I thought I'd use the break to catch up on some schoolwork."

"Is your family not big on Thanksgiving?" Cammi asked innocently even though I could tell the censure in her undertone. "Because that'll be a little... different, I guess."

I cocked a brow at her. "Different can sometimes be a refreshing change from the same old, same old, don't you think?"

There was hardly any time for anyone to register my shot back at her because Julian stepped up and draped an arm around my shoulder.

"Speaking of different, my parents want to meet her," he said casually as if he wasn't saying something outrageous. "Before you all invaded my place today, I was just going to try to talk her into coming with me. If she prefers not to, then I'm staying with her here."

I wasn't sure if Julian had planned all of that to come out because it spoke volumes to people who'd known him for years. To most of them, the extent of Julian's commitment to a girl was about the number of times he wanted to have sex with her which was often no more than anyone could count on one hand. And yes, while some of them may have sensed that he was a little bit different with me, I didn't think anyone had quite advanced to this level of imagination—including me.

Since I couldn't utter a single word as I turned what probably looked a bewildered expression on my face to Julian, Kit came to the rescue with a cheerful endorsement. "Julian's folks are amazing people. I'm sure if you decide to go, Star, that you'll have an amazing time. His Mom is a great cook. You'll be full all the way till Christmas."

"Trust you to only think about the food," Nisha mumbled with a roll of her eyes at her boyfriend before she turned to me with a smile. "But honestly, they're a very nice couple, Star. I'm thrilled that they want to meet you."

Did you just make that up or are you actually serious? seemed to be the silent question I was asking Julian who looked a little sheepish, scratching the back of his head as he smiled at me. His announcement had suspiciously convenient timing to Cammi prettily throwing shade at my family issues.

"I wasn't going to say anything till later but it just popped in my head," he said as he touched his forehead against mine, those puppy dog eyes doing their best to abate my rising sense of panic. "Don't give me an answer now. You've got time to think about it."

"Meeting the parents just sound like you want to get married next," Matt muttered with a look of disgust as he gulped down his beer. "I won't be taking any girl home for at least two decades 'coz I don't want no wife putting me on chains just yet."

Julian laughed, seemingly unaffected by the truth in Matt's careless comment. "And this is why you're legendary for your sense of romance, Matt. You're every girl's prince charming."

Cammi chimed in with a faint laugh even though her cheeks seemed frozen in a strained smile. "I don't disagree with that even though Matt's got a point. College is all about meeting new people and having a little fun while you still can. I don't think anyone's thinking of anything that serious."

Kit wiggled his brows at his girlfriend. "I don't know about that, Cammi. Nisha's named our future children already and picked out their schools."

The whole kitchen burst out laughing—including me even though I felt strangely detached from this conversation as if it were a lucid dream—as Nisha cried out in exaggerated mortification, pummelling her dainty fists on Kit's arm.

"You promised you won't tell anyone!" she accused with righteous indignation.

"I'm perfectly fine with it, babe!" Kit said with a grin before smothering her next protest with a kiss. "I named them along with you, remember?"

I leaned in toward Julian and murmured, "We're going to have to start saving for their wedding present. I think Nisha's set on this space-grade espresso machine she was telling me all about last time."

Julian's green eyes were crinkling in the corners as he lowered his head and wrapped his arms around me, gently steering me away from the direction of the riot that was escalating in the kitchen and giving us some privacy. "You're not angry at me for just blurting that out?"

I sighed and kissed the corner of his smiling mouth. It was hard to be angry with this guy—like seriously. "We'll talk later but I appreciate what you tried to do there, no matter how unnecessary it was. I can hold my own, you know?"

"I have trouble resisting the urge to protect you," he said as he pressed a kiss on my forehead. "But I'm going to try. I don't want to be that guy backing you into a corner all the time to keep myself reassured."

I raised a brow and smiled. "What? No chest-beating alpha male trying to tell me what to do?"

He smiled back and shook his head. "If there's one thing you thrive on, Star, it's the freedom of choice. And while your rules cage you more than they free you sometimes, I'm going to leave it to you to decide what kind of power you want to give them over your life."

I swallowed hard, unable to look away from the pull of his gaze. It was only ever around Julian that my defenses would falter every time he hit on a truth I didn't realize he could read on me like an open book.

Seemingly able to read this time around that I either didn't want to talk about this or couldn't find the words to say, his tender expression changed into wicked teasing as his arms pulled me closer against his hard frame. "And the only time I'll ever enjoy backing you into a corner is when our clothes are coming off and you're begging me to take you against the wall."

Slightly outraged and vastly relieved, I burst out laughing at his audacity. "I think Matt might've gotten his sense of romance from you."

He grinned before swooping down to kiss me hard.

"So, do you want us to just go away here?" Matt's irritated voice came from somewhere behind us. "Because we came here to watch football, you know? And not you guys making out like it's an episode of Gossip Girl."

Julian gave him a mocking glare as he released me. "Hey, you guys invited yourselves over so deal with it."

But pretty much after that, all talk of Thanksgiving, weddings and baby names went away as the football games started.

I was snuggled next to Julian on the couch, barely paying attention to the game because my mind was still reeling from the very real possibility of meeting his parents. I had no doubt that he told me the truth earlier and that meant he'd somewhat already discussed us with his parents for them to extend the invitation.

With everything going on, we hadn't really had a chance to discuss Thanksgiving.

Even before meeting Julian, I'd long decided to stay away from my family during the holidays. No doubt it would hurt their feelings, and my nephew would be saddened by it, but I couldn't stand sitting there and being made to feel guilty because I wasn't happy with the same things they were happy with. We all lived in the same brokenness of things—like a dark and cramped and battered box of a life—but it didn't mean that just because it was the only thing I ever knew and grew used to that I would live with it. I couldn't find any wrong in wanting out of that box, wanting to seek a light I was convinced I didn't imagine, wanting a little more than just the ability to exist.

Julian's family probably didn't know of that box despite what darkness they might have glimpsed at the stark and sudden loss of a seemingly perfect son. Sitting there with them on the dinner table wouldn't feel like a court trial.

Or would it?

Because as practiced as my front of being a perfectly ordinary girl was, it wasn't iron-clad. Would I sit there and expose myself with the slightest tell? Would they take one look at me and see everything about me add up to the kind of girl who didn't deserve their son?

Feeling suddenly restless at the torment of my own divisive thoughts, I got off the couch, grabbed the nearly empty plastic bowl of tortilla chips and headed to the kitchen. I was emptying a fresh bag into the bowl when the cellphone in my back pocket buzzed. With one hand, I reached for it and frowned at the display name of the texter.

Dean.

"It's not too late for you to back out of this freak show, you know?"

My head snapped around at the hushed comment and found Cammi walking toward me carrying a couple of empty beer bottles. She'd been understandably silent since Julian's announcement but I never doubted for a second that she'd stopped thinking about it.

I raised a brow. "People pay lots of money for this kind of entertainment and you have front row seats to it—all for free. If you don't like it, you can always leave."

Cammi's expression hardened. "If this was just you I'm watching burn, I'd leave you to your tricks because you probably caused the fire in the first place. But I'm not going to sit around and let you drag Julian into the fire with you. I hate to say it but he cares about you and all I can see you doing is just taking—just taking everything he's offering you until you're done with him."

My temper flared because even in hushed tones that carried her words no farther than the kitchen, they were heavy with accusation and sharply pointed with accuracy.

"Julian's had his share of taking, Cammi, so don't think he doesn't know what he's doing," I replied with a warning cushioned in a soft voice. "And this isn't a fairytale so don't spin it into one. What Julian and I are to each other are our own business. Wherever we take it next is our call to make. I'd salute your protectiveness of him if it didn't so conveniently but poorly cloak the simple truth that you want him for yourself. You're not mad that I'm stringing him along—you're mad that you're not the one doing it."

Blood rushed to Cammi's cheeks and her eyes flashed with anger. "I wish you were right because maybe then I'd only feel angry. I wouldn't have this sick feeling in my stomach waiting for the time when you break Julian's heart and there's not a damn thing I can do to stop you."

She gently lowered the empty beer bottles down on the counter, took a deep breath, lifted her chin and turned to go.

I wanted to tell her to stay and listen.

I wanted to tell her that no, I wasn't playing games.

I wanted to tell her that no, I wasn't setting up Julian for heartbreak.

I wanted to tell her that no, I would rather hurt than hurt him.

But I didn't because I couldn't.

When the day came for me to pack up and go, Julian would feel the sting.

I miscalculated when I thought that he would just simply tally me up along with the other girls he'd casually dated.

But he didn't because he couldn't.

And I wasn't sure if that warmed my heart or broke it.

With Cammi's words still ringing in my hear and my hand trembling as I lifted my phone to look at it, I clicked through the menu until Dean's message was displayed.

As usual, the text was short and bare.

If words came easy to him, he'd write out his version of purgatory—the sort where one already felt dead but still quite alive to be fully numb to the pain.

[Dean: I need you. When can I see you?]

It wasn't Dean's voice I heard in my head.

It was Julian—calling to me sweetly until the shadows that were crowding me in slowly receded.

With a few flicks of my fingers, I deleted Dean's message.

I shoved the phone back into my pocket, picked up the bowl of chips and marched back into the living room and out of the past that hovered too close to the present. 

***

So, what do you guys think?

This chapter is the start of Star's unraveling. Suddenly, there are choices and for a girl who's never had much of those growing up, she's not going to quite know what to do.  And if there's one thing Star's good at, it's always knowing what to do. So we'll see how she flounders her way through this. 

As for Julian, he's really trying his best to be what she needs. But for how long can he keep pounding his fists through the walls Star built around herself before he's too broken and bloody to keep going? Will he break before she does?

Let me know!

P.S. I love this song. Thank you to @DK_elle for this suggestion!

♪♪♪ Chapter Soundtrack: Piece by Piece by Kelly Clarkson ♪♪♪

And all I remember is your back

Walking towards the airport, leaving us all in your past

I traveled fifteen hundred miles to see you

Begged you to want me, but you didn't want to

But piece by piece, he collected me

Up off the ground, where you abandoned things, yeah

Piece by piece he filled the holes that you burned in me

At six years old and you know, he never walks away

He never asks for money, he takes care of me

He loves me

Piece by piece, he restored my faith

That a man can be kind and a father could... stay

And all of your words fall flat

I made something of myself and now you want to come back

But your love, it isn't free, it has to be earned

Back then I didn't have anything you needed so I was worthless

But piece by piece, he collected me

Up off the ground, where you abandoned things, yeah

Piece by piece he filled the holes that you burned in me

At six years old and you know, he never walks away

He never asks for money, he takes care of me

He loves me

Piece by piece, he restored my faith

That a man can be kind and a father could... stay