Dalton just called from Denver. He and Dilly are almost home! Just three more hours and then freaking long weekend Friday afternoon traffic and they're mine.
And look. I need to address something. I don't often give a voice to things in the past between Caleb and I unless it's to complain about the amount of time I have spent bored in Vegas. I don't often point out that one of the hazards of being a little girl anxious for approval in a sea of close-knit teenage boys is that she often becomes a target for inappropriate behavior or far, far worse. What good comes of that? Want me to make a list of those who touched me without asking? Or who still does? I daresay it'd be easier to list who didn't/doesn't.
Here:
1.
Let's move on from there because it escalated anyway, because things like that always will and Lochlan couldn't always protect me. He had to work. He tried so hard. He lied to everyone we knew, including parents, teachers and bosses. He changed his life. He brought me with him to keep me safe and still it wasn't enough. He holds so much guilt for trying to save me and instead putting me in the line of fire. He can barely breathe some days because of that guilt but we manage and we'll be alright because we're so much tougher than we look. I love him. I always will. Like I said, we're tough.
We must be as I suddenly realize it's noon on a Friday and I'm about to throw a homecoming dinner for twenty people on four hours notice. I asked PJ to take me to the store. I can't drive on these pills, these ones make me ridiculously zonky-quick-sandy. He agrees and I wonder out loud what Dalton brought me home for souvenirs from Europe.
STDs. Really exotic ones though, because...Europe.
Nice.
I know, right? Tres beaucoup!
