Wounded Hearts Will Conquer

Chapter 17 - Forgetting To Regret

Chapter 17
Evan
Forgetting To Regret

A/N - This may seem a little bit like an ending, but it's far from it (: I still have a few chapters or so up my sleeve. Also, I have a new novel up called "Miles Away" and I'd really appreciate it you could possibly check it out! As always, thanks so much for the reads, comments & votes (:

“Dad, this is shit. I can’t deal with it all anymore,” I whispered into the air.

I was sat in the grass amongst the familiar tombstones lined up in crooked rows around me. The night was deep black and hid the names of beloved lost ones and their quotes on the cold stone. I picked at stray blades of grass with nimble fingers while I absentmindedly continued a conversation with my silent father. The one way conversations always seemed to soothe me at my darkest hours.

“She was the only one who understood what I was going through. Now she thinks I’m some jerk who doesn’t care about her. I mean, I know I’m a jerk, especially after what happened with…me and you…” I trailed off, roughly throwing a blade of grass into the pile before me.

It was times like these that I really missed my dad. I could deal with the baseball games as a kid where he wasn’t in the stands, the missed bedtime stories at night, not being able to eat his famous pasta with meat sauce, not hearing his laugh, or even his blinding charm with others around him. I could deal with him not being here for those moments. But I most certainly couldn’t deal with not having my dad here to guide me. My mom was always telling me how much she loved me and was always there to talk if I really needed it, but it wasn’t the same growing up. A guy couldn’t exactly ask his mom what was going on with puberty or how to ask a girl out without getting coddled.

A boy needs his dad for moments like those. And moments like these were the most important.

“I don’t know what to do about it,” I sighed agitatedly. “I want her to trust me. God, I want to trust her,” I breathed.

I felt lower than low when I left Bailey’s house earlier tonight. She needed someone to give her comfort, someone who knew exactly what she was going through. I was the one who was supposed to be all of those things for her and I failed her. I failed her just like I had failed everyone else in my life.

My dad was the most perfect example.

“Do you think I should try to talk to her?” I asked, staring his tombstone in its center. “She probably wouldn’t even answer my calls,” I mumbled, shaking my head. I ran a frustrated hand through my hair and let out a breath. I really needed to figure this out.

“I really wish you were here right now. You’d probably tell me to man up and blame it all on myself so she’ll take me back or something,” I smiled small. “Do you think she’ll even try to forgive me?”

I stared off behind his stone for so long that I’d lost track of time. So many scenarios of how I could apologize and what I would say to make it better ran through my mind. Every time seemed to end the same, with her still hating me and me wallowing in my own self-pity. She needed to understand why I couldn’t fess up about the things of my past. She needed to know that I needed her as much as I knew she needed me.

Off in the distance was the faint sound of crickets chirping softly. The wind around me was picking up and I kept having to throw my hair out of my face to keep it away from my eyes. I found myself wishing I could talk to Bailey as easily as I could talk to my dad. She would understand things so much easier if I could. She would get why I thought so low of myself, and she would see that I actually do care so much about her. I never cared about someone else so much in my life and it quite frankly scared the shit out me just to think about it.