So I crawled out that front door, ignoring the cries of my mom and my younger sisters because I couldn’t stand the thought of not having Hannah and Knox in my life.
I chose my them over my family. I couldn’t survive without them, especially not since Knox confessed his feelings for me and we slept together. Walking away from Hannah and Knox wasn’t an option, because I was already in love with both of them.
I dragged myself to Hannah’s, climbing the tree outside of her bedroom window by the last bit of strength I had, and collapsed on her floor.
Her dad wasn’t the police commissioner yet at that point, but I did not doubt if he found me in her bedroom, at the ripe age of eighteen, he still would have kicked my already kicked ass.
So she hid me, and helped me, even though I wouldn’t tell her what happened to me.
The other night in our garage, I didn’t lie when I told Knox that his love for me made it impossible to walk away back then. But I didn’t mean it how it came out. I meant I was just as fucked over him at that point, even without understanding how our friendship had morphed into something deeper.
Something passionate.
I had no intention of ever being with a guy, but I stopped seeing his gender when I realized that love felt the same when it was authentic, regardless of who it was coming from.
It didn’t mean that choosing to stay with Hannah and open myself up to loving Knox publicly was easy.
I lost my entire family.
I lost my relationship with my siblings after the lies my father told them clouded their opinions of me. I lost the opportunity to have my mom by my side, witnessing and celebrating every accomplishment I achieved throughout my life. She never got to see what I made of myself.
I regretted that loving Knox had to be a case of having one or the other.
But that wasn’t on him, and it wasn’t fair of me to unload all of it onto him. Hannah and Knox knew my dad was a mean son of a bitch, but they didn’t know the half of it, because I spent my entire childhood hiding it.
Hiding the darkness of my life, so it didn’t darken their sunshiny ones.
Knox’s family loved him endlessly and openly. They embraced him and his decisions through life without a second of hesitation. And every time we spent a holiday with them or Hannah’s dad, instead of mine, they both gave me the same inquisition as to why I wouldn’t call mine and try to rekindle a relationship with them, thinking we had just grown apart.
So I lied, every time.
I said I didn’t want anything from my family.
I said I was happy with my chosen family.
I said it didn’t bother me.
I said I’d rather spend Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, Mother and Father's Day, and every birthday over the last ten years with their families, instead of mine.
I lied. I lied so many times I almost fell for it myself.
Because in truth, what I wanted was to go back to my childhood and remember every single feature on my mom’s face as she opened the stupid, impractical gifts I gave her for holidays. I wanted to go back and memorize the warmth in the hug she gave me before I realized it’d be my last.
Four years after leaving my father’s house, Hannah came home with her face as white as a ghost, holding her newspaper in her hands. She was in charge of writing the obituaries for the paper and when she handed me the next day’s issue, a part of me died inside when I saw my mother’s name in black ink.
Alcoholism took her, and with it, every chance of reconciliation. I sat on my motorcycle overlooking the cemetery the day they laid my mother’s frail body to rest, and they buried my forgiveness in the dirt the same day.
When Knox tried to process Lex’s trauma and past and how it shaped her into the closed-off and controlling person she was today, his rose-colored glasses view of life—pissed me off.
It enraged me because he had no fucking clue how hard it was for some people. It transported me back to that scared and lonely eighteen-year-old kid trying to figure out how to take on the world when I suddenly had to start fresh, without help.
So I lashed out and did exactly what my father had done to me my whole life.
I killed his happiness because I had none.
So I sat on the tailgate and punished myself for it.
Hours passed of that, and I was well on the side of sloppy drunk when a truck pulled in and parked beside mine.
Through bleary eyes, I watched as Dallin, Parker, and Trey got out, walking toward me.
I could tell, even in my state of disorientation, that they weren’t there to offer their friendship.
“Well,” I took another drink of my beer. “Will it be fists or words, fellas?”
“Witty.” Trey mused, jumping up on my tailgate with me, swinging his legs animatedly. “I just want it noted that I told them they had to keep their hands to themselves.” He shrugged, with a grimace, “I don’t know if they’ll listen though, and they outvote me, so I can only do so much.”
He grabbed one of my beers and cracked it open, drinking it like he was going to enjoy the show either way.
“Lay it on me.” I held my arms out at the side, “I’m pretty sure I’m too drunk to even stand up to take a piss, so I’ll be an easy target.” Parker took a step forward and I held my hand up, “I’m assuming you found him though? Given your obvious distaste for me. So tell me he’s okay before you knock my lights out.”
“He’s fine.” Parker said, “At home in bed, nestled between Hannah and Lex.”
I gritted my teeth, trying to fight the sense of envy that burned in my gut, knowing he was okay and happy in the end.
Without me.
“Okay.” I nodded my head.
