Nothing More

Chapter Nineteen.

I haven't heard those words from her mouth since before I moved to New York. Those three words used to be as normal to my ears as hearing my own name, but not anymore.

Now they cut at me, lashing at the progress I've made to recover from the pain of loneliness that came with her leaving me. These three words threaten to break the already fragile fort I've been working on constructing since she decided she didn't want me.

These three words are much more significant to me than she can even fathom and I feel like my heart is going to rip angrily from my chest at any moment.

I wasn't expecting a declaration of love from her. I was prepared for angry words to be thrown at me. I don't know which would have hurt worse, to be honest.

"I do Landon," Dakota cuts through my silence. "I've loved you ever since I can remember and I'm sorry that I keep causing trouble in your life. I hurt you, I know I did and I'm so sorry-" Her voice breaks at the end and her eyes gloss with tears. She's standing closer now, so close that I can hear her breathing. I must have missed the steps she took closer to me.

"I was selfish, I still am, and as fucked up as it is, I can't bear to see you with anyone else. I'm not ready to share you. I remember the first time I saw you," she pauses and I try to catch my breath.

I should stop her from digging up old memories, but I can't bring myself to. I want to hear them.

I need to hear them.

"You were riding your bike up and down the street. I could see you from the window in my room. Carter had just gotten home from some camping trip, and one of the parents called my dad with some rumor, something about Carter trying to kiss another boy."

My heart sinks as her words gnaw at me. She never talks about Carter, not in this much detail, not anymore.

"My dad came barreling down the hallway, belt in hand," she shudders.

I do too.

"Everything was so loud. I remember thinking the house was going to fall down if he didn't stop."

Dakota is staring past me. She's no longer in New York, she's back in Saginaw and I'm there with her.

"You were riding your bike in the street and your mom was out there with you, taking pictures or videos maybe, with a camera and when Carter started to scream with every lash of that leather belt, I watched you and your mom. She fell somehow, like she tripped over her own feet or something, and you ran over to her like you were the parent and she was the child. I remember wishing I could be strong, like you, and help Carter. But I knew I couldn't."

Her lip begins to quiver and my chest is aching, pain shooting through me like a burning star.

"You know how it was. How bad it was when I tried to help."

I did know. I witnessed it a few times. My mom called the cops twice before we learned that the system is flawed, so very flawed, and much more complicated than two kids could imagine.

My feet shuffle and bring me closer to Dakota without my mind's permission. She holds up a small hand and I stop in my tracks.

"Just listen, don't try to fix anything," Dakota urges.

I do everything I can to abide by her. I stare at the green numbers on the stove and tuck my hands behind my back. It's almost nine, the day has flown.

I continue to focus on the numbers and she continues.

"I remember the first time you talked to me, the first time you told me you loved me. Do you remember the first time you told me you loved me?"