Second Chance Vow

A wave of emotions took over, and when Christian grabbed my wrist to stop me from leaving and took a seat where I had once sat, I couldn’t have left even if I’d wanted to.

And the truth was, I didn’t want to.

I listened to him with the same longing I had for my mom. The same thoughts, the same fears, the same realizations of what I shouldn’t have experienced at such a young age. The sincerity in his tone had caught me off guard, making me feel like I was the only person he had ever shared these confessions with other than his therapist and family.

Not even Julian.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel so alone. He understood what I went through on a daily basis, and it overwhelmed me as much as it calmed me. I was seeing a side to him he didn’t show anyone, and I had no idea why…

All I knew was that I didn’t want it to go away.

I didn’t want him to go away.

As soon as I felt the back of his fingers wipe away my tears, we once again locked eyes. Something deep inside of me told me I could trust him, but the intensity of what we were experiencing toward each other wasn’t anything I’d ever experienced with anyone before.

It was thrilling.

Terrifying.

It was everything and more.

I was the first to break eye contact between us, looking back toward the lake instead and trying to reel in my emotions that never went away. I contemplated if I was really going to do this. I could feel his gaze on the side of my face, burning a hole into my skin, and a part of me knew he sensed that.

The effect he had on me.

I gazed up at the sky, needing a minute to gather my thoughts and what was happening between us. The stars shined bright above our heads, illuminating against the darkness of the sky with the moon smiling high like a Cheshire cat. The lake breeze brought a slight chill to the air, and I hugged my knees to my chest in a reassuring gesture, shielding myself to create some warmth around me.

I sat there beside him, feeling his honesty, his support…

His love?

Taking a deep breath, I opened my mouth and murmured, “This isn’t the first time she’s lost custody of me,” just loud enough for him to hear. My eyebrows rose, surprised with my own revelation. I finally admitted a truth out loud, and it felt fucking amazing. “They say people can’t remember memories before the age of six, but I remember it clear as day. Like it only just happened yesterday. My mom left me in our piece of shit car when I was only four-years-old. I can still taste my tears, I can still hear my screams, and I can still feel the sweat pouring down my face and body.” I hesitated for a moment, reliving the past for what felt like the hundredth time.

“By the time our neighbor found me, I’d passed out from heat exhaustion. I remember waking up in the hospital with all these strangers around me, begging for my mom to come and rescue me.” I wiped away the tears that were now streaming down my face, one right after the other. “How fucking ironic, right? She was the only reason I was there to begin with, and I still only wanted her. For years I only wanted her, until I realized that she never really wanted me.” I covered my face, desperately trying to hide from him.

He didn’t allow it. He pulled down my hands, and I turned my face, not wanting him to see right through me.

“I remember her running into the hospital, rushing toward me, and before she could comfort me in her arms, the cops grabbed her and threw her face-down onto the ground. She screamed … she screamed so fucking loud for me that sometimes I can still hear her in my sleep. My whole world was constantly ripped apart, yet I still loved her. I still prayed for her. I still yearned for her. I still wanted my mom more than anything in this world.”

I couldn’t stop the tears that fell out of my eyes, and I didn’t want to. I earned them, every last one—they were my badge of honor.

“I was in and out of foster homes until she served her time and got custody of me again. Promising me that things were going to be different, that she was clean, she was taking her meds, she was happy… And for a while she was. My mom could have the highest of highs, but then the lowest of lows—there was no middle ground with her. She was up, or she was down. She was manic, or she was calm.”