BRENNA 

I bang on Landon’s door, determined to lay down some ground rules tonight. I don’t know much about raising a burgeoning teen, but I have a feeling if I don’t set clear rules, he’s just going to keep pushing back. I have to show my dominance in our relationship.

Or is that what you do when training dogs?

God. I really don’t know what I’m doing, but I have to learn fast. I don’t have much choice.

I knock again. The door swings open with a bang and my pissed off little brother stares me down.

“What?”

I cross my arms and try for my best “disapproving” look. Sadly, we’re the same height, and I feel a lot less imposing than I had a few minutes ago.

“Do you know how angry I am right now?” I say. “You can’t do that.”

“Do what?” he says, sounding annoyed.

“You can’t leave the apartment without telling where you’re going. I’m responsible for you,” I say, trying to soften my tone. I don’t want to be his enemy, but I can’t have him running off like that anymore. “What were you doing up there anyway?”

“Tyler lets me play on his Xbox whenever I want as long as I walk Luther when I get home from school. He even gave me a key. Dad doesn’t let—” He pauses for just a second, but then he goes on. “Dad didn’t let me play War Strike.”

“I don’t care what you play,” I say. “I’ll buy you a copy of War Strike, but I’m serious about letting me know where you’re going. I was terrified something had happened to you.”

“Listen,” he says, crossing his arms to mirror my pose. “We don’t have to pretend this is anything more than a five and half year prison sentence for both of us. I know you don’t want to be here, so I promise to stay out of your way as long as you stay out of mine. I’ll be eighteen soon, and then you can go back to wherever you were hiding.”

I stand there mouth agape, unable to form words. Anger, denial, depression. I was expecting all that, but I’m not sure how to handle Landon’s outright rejection and scorn.

“Of course I want to be here. We’re family. Family should be there for each other,” I argue.

He tosses me a ‘yeah, right’ look. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Brenna. Listen, I get it, you feel guilty. But don’t be. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Landon turns and shuts the door before I can respond. And once again I find myself alone in an empty hallway, rejected.

Maybe Liv is right. Coming back here has opened all kinds of wounds I thought were healed. Dejected, I shuffle back to my room, feeling like I’ve taken a giant step backward in my life.

Unfortunately, I can’t do anything about it tonight. Landon is going to take work. He has no reason to trust me and I’ll to have to earn his respect.

And Tyler… I haven’t a clue what I’m going to do about him.

He doesn’t look much different from the last time I saw him. A little older, sure. But he still wears his sandy brown hair short and boyishly disheveled. It makes him look more innocent than he actually is but no less sexy.

It was easy for me to ignore my feelings for him after I left. Out of sight, out of mind. But there's no way I can do that now. He’s my neighbor. We’re going to see each other a lot.

So many things went wrong in our relationship. I left. He moved on. But judging by his response tonight, neither one of us has had any closure.

I close my eyes and try to forget the feel of his hand on me. I want a drink and really need Liv. She’d know exactly what I should do with Tyler. I crawl into bed and channel my inner Liv.

“Forget Tyler,” I say aloud in her voice. “Find a nice guy. Have some fun. And fuck him.”

Yeah, not so helpful.

Tomorrow is a new day. And as much as I want to fix things with Tyler, I don’t have time for drama with my ex. I have to focus on Landon.

I’m emotionally exhausted, but my bed is not the sanctuary I’d hoped it would be. Sleep is eluding me, and all I can do is stare at the ceiling, knowing that Tyler is just a few feet above me. Maybe even in the same bed we shared.

I’ve spent years imagining what would happen if I ran into him again. Not one of those fantasies ended with a door being shut in my face. I don’t even blame him, but that doesn’t mean my heart didn’t break a little more.

I took a risk when I left. I knew he’d be mad, but I thought, after reading my letter, he’d understand. Maybe even join me after his father finished treatment. I waited for him. Even after the first year passed and I didn’t hear from him, I held onto the hope that one day Tyler would call me.

I wasn’t lying. I kept the number I left him, refusing to change it after all these years. I still had that eight-year-old flip-phone. I had this fantasy that he’d call and say he was ready to be with me. Hope faded fast, but I clung to that fantasy like a life preserver when things got rough. But now, that fantasy is dead. Smashed to bits in the twelfth-floor hall.

“Shit,” I mutter and roll over, dragging the covers over my head. How the hell am I going to live here for the next five years without going crazy?

Another fifteen minutes pass, and it’s obvious that I’m not getting any sleep, so I stumble out of bed and pull on my running gear.

When I get downstairs, the exercise room is completely empty. I miss my crowded local gym. I even miss the bad pop music and the yummy mommies. But tonight I’m grateful for the solitude. There are too many warring emotions weighing down on me, and I can’t put on a friendly mask and pretend like everything is fine. Because everything is fucked and I don’t know what I’m going to do.  

I put in my earbuds and start running.

I’d only planned on running a mile to help clear my head, but that turns into two, then three.  After the third mile, I stop looking. I can’t tell you how long I’ve been running. Hell, it feels like I’ve been running my whole life. I just want to run until the ache in my limbs drowns out the ache in my heart.