Finaly My Heart's Desire (Meant for Me Book 2) (11 page)

Chapter 14

Sometimes knowing you're doing the right thing doesn't make it any easier. That afternoon, my dad brought me to my apartment where I packed up everything Robin had bought me over the last three years. It was more than I ever imagined and included all of my favorite clothes and jewelry. My car was parked at his parents' house, but I had the keys to it, and planned on leaving everything in the car when we went there.

My dad didn't know what was what, so he just sort of hung around while I sorted through everything and made piles in the living room. I shed some tears, and because he didn't know what to say to console me, he acted like he didn't notice. I didn't think I was a superficial person, but it was incredibly difficult letting go of those material things—especially my car.

Dad and I drove to Robin's parents' without talking as I contemplated everything. "What are you thinking about?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Not having a car," I said.

"We're gonna figure something out," he said. "After Christmas we'll check out a few dealerships. It'll probably be something used, and definitely not an Audi, but we'll find something you can get around in."

"I don't want you to feel like you and mom have to pay for everything," I said. "I hate feeling like I have to depend on you after I haven't for so long. I'm planning on getting a job. I know I'll need to start paying my way. It's just gonna take some adjusting since I'm so used to Robin paying for everything." My face ached with not only the bruise, but with the pain of unshed tears. I was so mad at Robin for putting me in this position. I felt helpless and incapable of taking care of myself.

"That's what we're here for, Emily," my dad said, reassuring me. "That's what family does. We take care of each other during times like this. It's not a big deal for us to help you get on your feet. You only have one more year of school. Before you know it, you won't need us anymore. There's no reason to feel bad about your parents helping you. That's what we want to do."

After that statement, we rode without talking for a few more minutes. "Have you talked to Robin?" he finally asked, surprising me.

"No. He's left about twenty voicemails and sends at least that many texts a day, but I haven't responded yet. I was thinking I need to text and let him know I'm dropping this stuff off."

"Why don't you go ahead and do that?" Dad asked. I took my phone out of my bag and stared at the screen for a good, long while, unable to make myself type words. I couldn't think of what to say.

I still hadn't come up with anything by the time we pulled into the driveway, so I put away my phone. "Did you tell him?" Dad asked.

"Not yet. I will later."

He didn't say anymore about it. My heart sank as we rounded the side of the house to the spot where my car was parked. Robin's car was parked right next to it. "Oh no, Dad, he's here," I whispered.

"You want to leave?"

I thought about saying yes, but decided it was best to go ahead and get it over with. "I think we can do it without him seeing us if we go fast," I said.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and sat on the edge of the seat, poised to open the door as soon as he put the truck in park. Balancing an armload of clothes, I carefully but quickly found the keys to my car and used them to unlock it as I jogged in that direction. I opened the back door and shoved the bundle of clothes haphazardly into the backseat. My dad was working on delivering a handful as I was on my way back to his truck.

"Hurry," I whispered as I passed him.

"Emily, I'm not worried about Robin coming out here."

"I am."

"There's nothing he can do," he said, but I was already headed toward his truck again.

I grabbed an armload of items from his backseat and climbed down. I felt that same rush of adrenaline I'd been feeling when I ran from Robin that night, and I hated it. It was like I was doing something terrible or illegal even though I knew that wasn’t the case.

"Two more trips should do it," I said, passing Dad again.

"Emily!" I heard from the direction of the Buller's house. I knew it was Robin's voice. Fear gripped me the instant I heard it, and I froze in my tracks for a second before starting to walk again, only more quickly this time. "Emily!" I heard again.

I looked up to see that Robin was jogging toward me. I could see at a glance that his face was a mask of sadness and regret. Knowing that there was still some distance between us, I shoved the clothes into the back of the car. By the time I stood up, I could see that my dad had positioned himself in between Robin and me.

"That's close enough," my dad said, with an outstretched hand.

Robin gave him a desperate, pleading expression. "Mr. Bennett, I'm not going to hurt her."

"I know you're not, son, because you're not getting any closer."

Robin fixed his eyes on me. "Please hear me out, Emily. I love you. I need you."

"Are you having trouble seeing, boy? Can you see that mark you left on her face? Do you know she had to call me to pick her up in the middle of the night because she was running scared from you? You've lost your mind if you think I'm gonna let you get anywhere near my daughter again."

"Mr. Bennett, please. I'm sorry. I swear it will never happen again. I love her." He looked at me. "You can't leave me, Emily."

"She can and she is," my dad said. "We're here to bring back everything you've bought her, including the car. She'll leave the keys on the seat."

"I don't want it back, Emily. It's yours. I'm yours. Please just hear me out."

"What's there to say, Robin?" I asked, finally finding my voice. I had to clear my throat. "It wasn't the first time you hurt me. I can't live like that. I'm sorry, but I can't be with you. It's over."

"Don't say that, Emily. Please. I know I need to change. I promise I won't lay a hand on you ever again. I'm so sorry. It's just that you've become a woman right in front of my eyes, and I see how men look at you. I got jealous and protective, but I know now that I can't project any of that on you. I swear it won't happen again. Please, baby. I need you."

He took a step toward me with his hand outstretched, but my dad reached out and pushed at it, surprising Robin. "It's not that easy, son," he said.

Robin looked at Dad and then at me with such sadness and regret that it was really hard for me not to go to him and comfort him. "Please just take this stuff," he said gesturing to my car. "I don't want it. It's yours."

"We're leaving it here," my dad said.

Robin sighed and looked at me. "Just promise me you'll think about it."

"Think about what?" I asked.

"Think about giving me a second chance. I need you, Emily. I'll wait forever if that’s what it takes."

"I don't want you to wait for me, Robin. I think it's best if we both move on."

At my words, he hit his fist on the back of my car, causing me to jump. "No, Emily, please don't say that!" he said.

"I think that's enough," my dad said in an impassive tone. He took me by the shoulder and ushered me past Robin and into his truck. "I'll leave the rest of it right here in the driveway and you can figure out what to do with it," he said.

"Please, Mr. Bennett," I heard Robin say as my dad closed the door. Robin stood at a distance and watched as my dad took the remaining items out of his backseat and placed them on the driveway.

Just as he was getting into his truck, Mr. Buller hollered at my dad from the door. "Hey Jesse!" he said, all smiles.

My dad waved and forced a smile, but didn't say anything. "You dropping Emily off?" he asked, obviously having no idea what was going on.

"Not today," my dad replied. He waved again. "Enjoy your weekend," he said, as he closed the door. I watched Robin and his dad begin talking as we reversed out of the driveway. His dad's smile faded as they spoke, and I wondered what Robin was telling him.

"They'll work it out," my dad said, reading my mind. "It's not the first time someone's broken up in the world."

To me it felt like it was. As scared as I had been of Robin the other night, it still felt wrong to leave him in such bad shape, pleading for me to give him a second chance. I hated any sort of conflict, and this was the worst type. Everything I had known and expected for my life was changing. I felt sadness and regret even though I knew it was for the better.

I felt my phone vibrate in my bag as we drove down the street. I was certain it would be another text from Robin, so I almost didn't look at it, but I decided to go ahead. It was from my brother.

Micah: "Hey Em, I hope you're doing okay. It broke my heart to see you like that today. I wanted to give you a head's up that Shane Rollins asked me for your number. I wasn't going to give it to him, but Carly said you might be okay with him having it. Are you?"

I began to type back immediately, which drew my dad's attention. "Is it Robin?" he asked, glancing at me with furrowed brows. "No, it's Micah," I said without looking up from my phone.

Me: "I'm fine. Dad and I just finished up at Robin's and are on our way back to their house. I'm good with you giving Shane my number."

Micah: "Okay. Love you, sister. Let us know if you need anything."

Me: "I will. Are you and Carly spending Christmas Eve at Mom's? I'll be there."

Micah: "I hadn't thought about it, but that's a good idea. I bet Thomas would approve."

I text him back with an emoji of a thumbs up and another one of a heart.

I stashed my phone in my purse, feeling grateful for the perfectly timed distraction Micah's text had provided. I smiled internally, wondering if and when Shane would text me.

My phone buzzed before we even got to my parents' house, and I reached in my purse and took it out immediately. It was a number I didn't recognize, and a huge smile spread across my face at the thought that it might be Shane. I opened the screen to read the text with nervous anticipation coursing through my body.

Unknown Number: "Hey Emily, it's Shane. I know you have a lot going on right now, but I just wanted for you to have my number so you could get in touch with me if you wanted to. Merry Christmas if I don't hear from you before then."

I read and reread his text about five times before stashing my phone in my bag. Dad and I had arrived at home, and I knew I didn't have time to compose anything right then. I said 'hi' to my mom and Thomas and told them I'd be back downstairs in a few minutes but that I was going up to put my overnight bag away.

I had no idea what proper texting etiquette was, especially when Shane's text was so aloof—saying he thought he might not hear from me before Christmas. My instinct was to text him back right away, but I wasn't sure if I should. I wondered if my excitement over his slight interest had something to do with redemption for that 14-year-old girl inside me. I thought it must. It was useless. I couldn’t hold back any longer. I smiled down at my phone as I began tapping away on the keyboard.

Me: "I'm glad you got in touch. Especially since I might need to take you up on physical therapy. Would I call your office for that? Do I need to see a doctor first? Do you take insurance?"

I stared at my screen, realizing what a big dork I was for asking him all these medical questions right off the bat. If I took all that away, though, my text would only say, "I'm glad you got in touch." I set my phone on my dresser in an attempt to give it some thought, but picked it right up again. I deleted everything except the first line and started over.

My new text read: "I'm glad you got in touch. Your text was a welcome distraction as was your visit today. Thank you for both."

I pressed send before I could change my mind and instantly let out a little squeal that was a mix of excitement and fear. I'd packed a few things to bring to my parents', and I was in the middle of taking them out of my bag a moment later when my phone buzzed. I had already added his number to my phone, so the name
Shane
showed up on my screen, which obviously made me smile.

Shane: "Feel free to use me as a distraction or in any other capacity for that matter. I am officially at your disposal."

I set my phone beside me again with a stiff arm, and let out another excited squeal before composing another text.

Me: "The 14 year old me would have done unimaginable things to hear that from you."

Shane: "How about the current you?"

Me: "She'll be 21 in a week."

Shane: "I was asking more about what she was thinking than how old she was."

Me: "She's smiling."

Shane: "Good. Do I get to take her somewhere for your birthday, or is it too soon for that?"

Me: "It could possibly be arranged."

Shane: "Say the word and I'll arrange it. Is it next Sunday?"

Me: "Tuesday. The word."

Shane: "Was that the official go-ahead?"

Me: "Yes."

Shane: "Do we need to check with Mr. Bennett?"

Me: "No."

Shane: "Next Tuesday night?"

Me: "Yes, please."

Chapter 15