I read her words, and tried to ignore the pull in my chest. Love you. I never said those kinds of things to people, not even to Ma or Kellan. But sometimes, when Alyssa Marie Walters said she loved me, I kind of wished I could say it back.
But I didn’t love.
I hardly liked.
At least that was the lie I told myself daily to keep from getting hurt. Most people thought love was a reward, but I knew better than that. I’d seen my mom love my father for years now, and nothing good ever came from it. Love wasn’t a blessing, it was a curse, and once you invited it into your heart, it only left scorch marks.
Chapter Two
Alyssa
Me: Hey, Dad. Just checking in to see about you coming to the piano recital.
Me: Hey! Did you see my last text?
Me: Hey, me again. Just texting to see if you’re okay. Erika and I are worried.
Me: Dad?
Me: ??
Me: Are you still awake, Lo?
I stared at my cell phone, my heart pounding in my chest as I sent the text message to Logan. I checked the time, sighing heavily.
2:33 a.m.
I should’ve been sleeping, but I was thinking about Dad again. I’d sent him a total of fifteen text messages in the past two days, and ten voicemails, yet I still hadn’t heard back from him.
I lay my phone against my chest, taking deep inhales and exhales. When it started vibrating, I was quick to answer. “You should be sleeping,” I whispered through the phone receiver, secretly happy that he answered. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“What’s wrong?” Logan asked, ignoring my question.
A light giggle escaped my lips. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”
“Alyssa,” he said, stern.
“Ass-Crack didn’t call me back. I called him twenty times this week, and he didn’t call me back.” Ass-Crack was the name we’d graced my dad with after he walked out on our family. He and I had been extremely close, the two musicians of the family, and when he left, a part of me floated away with him. I didn’t talk about him a lot, but even though I never said the words, Logan always knew that it bothered me.
“Forget about him. He’s a piece of trash.”
“I have the biggest summer piano recital of my career coming up, and I don’t know if I can do it without him there.” I tried my best to keep my emotions in check. I tried my best not to cry, but I was losing the fight that night. I worried about him more than Mom and Erika did. Maybe because they never really understood who he was, as an artist, as a performer. The two of them had very reality-based minds that came with a lot of stability—Dad and I were kind of floating spirits, dancing in the wildfires.
But lately he hadn’t called. And I was so, so worried.
“Alyssa,” Logan started.
“Lo,” I whispered, a light tremble in my voice. He heard the sniffles through the receiver, and I sat up more. “When I was little, thunderstorms used to freak me out really bad. And I’d run into my parents’ bedroom and beg them to let me sleep with them. Mom never let me because she said I had to learn that storms wouldn’t hurt me. Ass-Crack would always agree with her, too. So I’d go back to my bedroom, huddle under my blankets, listen to the thunder and try my hardest not to see the lightning. Within a minute, my bedroom door would open, he’d have his keyboard in his hands, and he’d play music beside my bed until I fell asleep. Most days, I’m strong. I’m okay. But tonight with the storm, and all of the ignored calls… He’s breaking me tonight.”
“Don’t let him, Alyssa. Don’t let him win.”
“I just…” I began to cry over the line and I started to break down. “I’m just having a sad moment, that’s all.”
“I’m coming over.”
“What? No. It’s late.”
“I’m coming.”