Rules of a Rebel and a Shy Girl(84)

“I just want to tell you that I don’t ever want to talk to you,” I tell him, relaxing a smidgen as Beck smooths his finger along the inside of my wrist.

“Deep breaths,” Beck whispers, making me aware of my panicked breathing.

I do what he says. Air in. Air out.

“Willow, please just give me a few minutes,” my dad begs, stepping toward me.

I step back, bumping into Beck. “You don’t deserve a few minutes,” I tell him. “And if you wanted those few minutes, you should’ve gotten them thirteen years ago.”

“I know that,” he says, fidgeting nervously with his sleeves. “I know I messed up. I really do. But the guy I was back then … I’m not him anymore.”

“Then who are you? Because all I know is the man who left me with a horrible mother.”

He rubs his hand across his forehead, seeming at a loss for words. “Up until a couple of weeks ago, I didn’t realize how bad your mother has been. And up until a couple of years ago, I never thought about you or your mom, too drunk to care. Then something happened to me that was a real eye opener, so I got sober and realized …” He blows out a shaky breath. “I realized how much I fucked up my life over the last two decades. And not just my life, but my daughter’s.”

“If that’s true, then why did it take you two years to find me?” I snap, fighting back the tears.

“Because I wanted to get my act together.” He inches toward me, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Plus, I knew you’d be all grown up now and probably wouldn’t welcome my return.”

A few tears escape my eyes, but I quickly wipe them away. “Then why try at all?”

“Because I want to see you.” He pulls his hand out of his pocket and tugs his fingers through his hair. “Whether that makes me selfish or not, I decided to try.”

“Then why didn’t you just try instead of following me around or watching the house?”

“Because I was scared,” he admits. “Because I knew this is how you were going to react.”

“I deserve to act this way.”

“I know you do.”

“Do you even feel bad for what you did?” My voice cracks.

His eyes enlarge, and he starts to reach for me, but I jerk back.

“Of course I feel bad for what I did,” he whispers, on the verge of crying. “It haunts me every single hour of every single day. I wish I could take what I did back, but I can’t. What I can do is ask—beg for another chance. Even if it’s only a few minutes of your time. Please, Willow, just let me have that.”

My legs start to tremble as anxiety pumps through my veins. I should leave, should run away from this man, but I can’t get my feet to move.

Beck puts his hands on my shoulders and massages the muscles, trying to get me to calm down. “Do you want to go?” he whispers in my ear.

I nod. “I really do.”

Beck removes his hands from my shoulders, takes my hand, and leads me toward the car. My dad watches in panic as I move farther away from him. I don’t know if that’s what gets me—the panic—or maybe deep down, I just want to talk to my dad for a few minutes. Whatever it is, I stop short of the passenger door and turn back.

“Do you have a card with your phone number on it?”

He swiftly nods then fumbles around in his pocket for his wallet. “Yes, I actually do.” He takes out a card and hands it to me. “It’s for my work cell, but you can call me anytime.”

I wonder what he does for work… who he is now … if we could ever get over the past. I’m not so sure. If I’ve learned anything over the last few months, though, it’s that I shouldn’t run away from everything simply because I’m afraid. And while my dad hasn’t really earned the chance to talk to me, I kind of have with him.

“I don’t know for sure if I’ll call you,” I tell him, tucking the card into the pocket of my jeans. “But I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” he says quickly. “Can I just ask you one question?”

I don’t want to give him anything, but I nod, anyway.

“You’re not living in this place anymore, right?” he asks with concern. “It looks like you’re moving out … to some place better, I hope.”

I can’t help smiling as I glance at Beck, who is standing beside me, holding my hand. “Yeah, I really am… to somewhere much, much better.”





The beginning of a new list…





Epilogue



Willow



After moving out of that apartment and ditching that awful job, my life has become a lot easier. I still spend a lot of time doing homework, working at my two jobs, and probably stressing myself out more than I need to. I’m starting to realize I might always be a worrier, but I’ll be okay as long as I deal with the worry instead of bottling it up. So I do. I deal with it on my own and sometimes with the help of Wynter, Ari, Luna, and of course, Beck.