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"You need to talk to her, Vienna."

"No," I told Sadie brattily.

"Yes. Not only about her parenting but also about law school."

"Why?"

"Because she's your mother."

"What's your point?" I asked, angrily.

"Vienna," she sighed. "You're going to have to let this go."

"I'm not ready to."

"I'm not saying you have to do it now. I'm saying get it out of your system and say what you need to say soon so you can start to let it go."

"Sadie, you don't get it. I don't want to let it go. You know, we can't pick our blood, but maybe I can pick my family. So it doesn't matter if I forgive her bec-"

"I know. I know. You had it different than I did. You had to go between your dad and mom and deal with all those problems on top of your own. You had Trevor and school. I can't imagine-"

"That's not what I'm say-"

"But she's our mother, V," Sadie cut me off again. "Just talk to her for me."

I rolled my eyes irritably. "It won't change that I'm not-"

"Please, V," Sadie begged me.

"Fine, whatever." I hung up the phone. Sadie refused to listen to what I had to say, but for now, that was probably the best.

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"Vienna!" My mother shouts in relief when she answered my call. "My love, talk to me. I've been so worried this past month. I have to pry Sadie open to make sure you're well because you don't answer my calls."

"I wonder why?" I mumbled.

"Vienna, please," she begged. "I love you, and I tried my best with you."

"You tried to make me into something you never could be. I understand wanting your child to have a better life than you had, but pushing me the way you did wasn't the way to do it, mom."

"If you felt this way why didn't you ever say something?" I could hear her starting to cry on the other end and my anger flared with my guilt.

Don't crack, Vienna.

But she's crying. She must feel a little bad.

She's only sorry you are calling her out now.

"Don't you dare put this on me, you wouldn't hear me anyway," my voice cracked as everything fought to be said at once. "You have all these goals for me and I went along with them thinking for the longest time they are my own. But they aren't and I've spent 18 years preparing for a life I don't want to live. So now I have to try and figure it out here, on my own."

"What are you talking about, Vienna?"

"I don't want it."

"Vienna," my mom said cautiously, her sorrow slipping from her voice as warning and anger replaced it.

"I don't want any part of it. I didn't like it then and I know I don't want to do it for the rest of my life."

"Vienna! You have worked so hard to get here, don't you throw this away on some silly whim, now."

"You pushed me! That's the only reason why I did any of it!"

"It doesn't matter if I did or not."

"It's too late."

"You have put too much time into this to quit. We don't quit. We finish things out until the end."

"Yes, and I'm going to finish this like I finished your idea of law school the second high school ended. It's nearing the end, mom, and you're on your last straw."

"You have no right to speak to me like this. What has gotten into you?"

"I realized that I am more than peoples' advantage."

"I cannot believe this. You are being ridiculous. Get off your high horse, Vienna, because now you are just being ungrateful."

Tears spilled out of my eyes as I listened to her. "I bit my tongue and I held on so tight to you. I wanted all of your love but I mistook pride for love. This isn't me being ungrateful. This is me finding the self-respect to tell you, you don't have the power to manipulate me anymore."

And she didn't. Because I realized sometimes I had to cut people out of my life and leave them behind in the dust so I could move on in search for something worth more. Sometimes I had to be unforgiving and unapologetic.

I couldn't look back.

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Unlike the feeling I felt after leaving California, the feeling of leaving Wes, was crippling. I was stressed because I wanted to check in on him after I got back to my dorm, but I didn't. I wanted to go see him after the funeral but decided against it because it was an emotional time for him. But I also wanted to see him because my fight with my mom had drained me and I wanted someone- if not to talk to- to just be with. Wes made for a good person to be with.

I didn't call him after Flynn called to tell me they were back in Bristol because it all felt too intrusive. I couldn't simply call him, not on a topic as fragile as this and certainly not when I abandoned him to suffocate by grieving family.

I managed to talk myself into going to Wes' apartment- after many pep talks, of course. I hadn't called for fear of him not answering, or even worse, him answering and saying something I didn't want to hear. But now, standing in front of the door and knocking, I was aghast for what he might say to my face.

Wes opened the door and stared at me. He didn't say anything, just leaned against the door frame with an unopened soda can in hand. He looked at me as if he was waiting for me to say something, but I didn't have a clue what to say.

I found myself wanting to back out again, but my feet were rooted in place as if telling me this would not be a good time to flee.

Fight

"Valley," his voice was stern, "what are you doing here?"

He's mad.

Of course, he is. You left him.

"Look, I know you're mad," I started quietly, pleading with him. "And I get it. I would be too, but-"

"I'm not mad," he shook his head.

"You're not mad? Really?" I asked incredulously because I knew better than to believe when someone said they aren't mad.

"But you did walk out. That was pretty cold, even for you."

Ouch.

"Even for me? You really think I'm cold?"

"Closed off?" He said sounding like he's trying not to make it sound so harsh. "You're so scared that you disconnect yourself and it's not fair to the people around you. To me."

You can't give him your heart yet.

Since when has that been an option?

Since you held each other in your arms and listened to yourselves cry.

"Well, shit, Wes," I laughed. "What do you want? For me to say I'm sorry? Because I won't."

"It was my mother's funeral," he said incredulously.

"I know, Wes, but it was a funeral. Don't you get that? Do you know what you were asking of me?" My eyes were begging him to understand.

He looked at me for a moment before sighing. 

"I'm not apologizing for not going. But I'm here now. I'm standing here when I could be anywhere else. I came that day, and I'm here now. Doesn't that count for something?"

His voice was softer as he said, "I know it was a funeral, Val. I just kinda wish you'd been there with me. You might have made it easier."

"Yeah," I shuffled on my feet. "I messed up but I'm telling you, Wes, nothing would have made it easier. It just has to hurt in the beginning. It'll be later that it get's easier.."

"Another great apology." He rolled his eyes.

What does he want from you? A fucking Hallmark's card?

"But you need to figure this out. You can't freak out, you can't run off when you get scared."

"Yes, I can. I can do whatever the hell I damn well please," I argued, amazed he still didn't see it.

"No, Val! Not at the expense of me!" 

"Stop expecting things from me; you'll wind up disappointed."

"So I've learned," he bit out.

"It wasn't my intent to hurt you, Wes, I've just learned to put my needs first."

"Even if it hurts others."

I shook my head and laughed lightly. "This isn't a relationship. I don't owe you anything, let alone an explanation."

"I never said you do."

"Then don't stand there and act like I wronged you," I scoffed. "You were in a bad place, I came over, we bonded. That's all it was. Just because I didn't want to go to the funeral doesn't make me a bad person 

"Come in or just go home. Having you running back and forth is more than draining."

"Wes," I sighed.

"I like hanging out with you  but it's clear you don't like me so-"

Ha! He thinks you don't like him! Can you believe that?

Wanna take a guess why?

"Now where did you get that idea? I thought I'm affectionate," I said sarcastically.

Wes didn't want to find it funny but he couldn't hide the smile tugging at his lips. "Stop shutting down on me, Val."

I bit my lip but stuck my chin out stubbornly. I liked Wes but he was pushing it. Then again, I could always walk away anytime.

He may not let you come back.

Fight. 

"Fine," I said quickly and pursed my lips.

A look of shock washed over him. "I didn't mean to make you mad or uncomfortable," he told me quietly.

"I know you didn't. And I didn't mean to make you feel like I don't... care. I do. I wanted to help you with grieving your mom and.. what not."

I was interrupted by Wes scoffing but he didn't say anything so I continued.

"But it wasn't something I could help you with." I looked down at my feet, figuring it didn't matter what I said anymore, Wes would make up his own mind of me. Most likely, it wouldn't a pleasant idea.

"So what'll it be?"

"I'd like to to come closer," I mumbled. "But just a little," I added quickly.

Wes stood there in the door frame before he set his drink down on a table and stepped forward with a small smile. I was confused as he moved closer. He seemed unsure of what he was doing or if he should, but then he seemed to gain some courage. Wes wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his chest. I was hesitant to hug him back, but he only hugged me harder. So I slowly wrapped my arms around his back.

There we were hugging. It was awkward at first because there was still some tension, but this is what I needed. I needed to be held. I needed someone to comfort me and tell me it was alright and that my mother didn't deserve me. I needed him to tell me that I as alright. Maybe he couldn't do all of those, but he held me and that was enough. I grabbed the back of his shirt in my fist as I pulled myself into him. Wes brought a hand up to cradle my neck and I felt him rest his face against my head as I buried my own into his chest, breathing in his scent and wrapping myself in it.

I liked it, the strange show of affection felt strangely natural.

It is a real hug. One that sends warmth to every part of your body. The kind I remembered getting as a kid when I said goodbye after playdates with Ivy- as if we'd never see each other again. The delicious suffocating hug where I never want to let go. But I always did.

And we did. He pulled the door open for me, inviting me in.

I immediately whipped up ten excuses not to accept but I shoved those thoughts aside and followed Wes inside the apartment.

Fight.

"I see you're still drinking your problems away," I teased at seeing a crushed beer can on the table.

"And yet, you're still here." He smiled, boyishly, sending wings to erupt in the pit of my belly.

Maybe this isn't so bad.

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a/n

(Important a/n in the next part (it's its own chapter) regarding readers, myself, and updates. Please read.)

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