Jill Stevens 1/21 0:10
“You are an asshole!” she sobs. “But you’re my asshole, Lee. You might have walked away, but you can’t stop me from fighting for you. I will. I always will, Lee.”
Jill Stevens 1/21 0:15
“I’m home. I just got in. By now, I’m sure you’re on the road. Please call me. We need to talk. Leo…please.”
Jill Stevens 1/22 0:03
“I won’t stop calling, Lee. I won’t.”
Jill Stevens 1/23 0:18
“Hey, it’s me…I’m yours, whether you want to acknowledge it or not. I’m here, Leo. I’m here, and I wish you would just talk to me. Call me back. Don’t do this.”
Jill Stevens 1/24 0:45
“Okay. You’ve made your point. You’re not going to talk to me. But I’m going to talk to you. I’m going to tell you that I miss you; that I think of you every minute of every day. I worry about you. I wonder how you’re doing. I wonder if you miss me too…then I stop wondering, because I know that you do. You have to. There’s no way that what I feel, I’m feeling it all alone. What we have, it’s special to both of us. Have. Present tense. Are you hearing me, Lee? You can’t just make that go away. You’ve got to believe that. You’ve got to believe that I can’t forget you—I can’t just walk away from you. I can’t just let you go. Don’t you know that? Deep down, I know that you must. Deep down, I know you don’t want this, either. You’re just too scared to admit it…”
Jill Stevens 1/30 0:34
“Sometimes I pick up the phone and feel like a stalker. Then I remember that if I don’t call, you might think I’ve given up. I haven’t, by the way—which is why I’m calling. I still feel kind of stalker-ish, but it beats the alternative.
“I miss you. I miss hearing the sound of your voice. I miss your dirty text messages. I miss your lips and your eyes. Dammit, Leo…call me back.”
Jill Stevens 2/3 1:06
“So, I’m drunk. Gloria and Sean took me out. Gloria said I needed cheering up. I don’t feel cheerful. Do I sound cheerful? I don’t think I was cheerful. But you know what? Alcohol is really just not the answer. You’re smart for not drinking it. It’s not really good. I mean, healthy. It’s not healthy. It makes you sick. Well, I don’t think I’ll get sick. I can keep my cheerfulness in my belly.
“Except—my belly aches. Not because of the liquor. It aches because you hurt me. You know—it’s funny. You broke up with me because you were upset that you hurt me, but then you hurt me even more when you walked away. The bruises on my neck—they’re gone. The hole you left in my chest—still there, Lee. Still fucking there.
“Great. Now I’m gonna start crying. This is not cheerful. This is not cheerful at all. I hate you for ignoring me. I really do, Leo. But I still want you. I want all of you. I want all of you always. You’re the only one. You’re the only one I’ll ever need. I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere, my Lee. Wanted you to know that. Goodnight.”
Jill Stevens 2/4 0:24
“All right. So, last night happened. Wish I could remember all that I said, but I don’t. Bet I meant every word, though. Anyway, if I know you at all—and I do—I know you got my message and immediately went on high alert. It’s who you are. It’s why I adore you. It’s why I’m calling you to let you know that I didn’t drive—Sean did. I also locked up before I called. Knob. Deadbolt. Chain. So, now you don’t have to worry. That is, if you listened to my message. If you listened to any of my messages…”
Jill Stevens 2/5 0:07
“Spain. That’s where I want to go. I want to go to your happy place with you. I miss you, Lee…and I’m still not going anywhere.”
I STAND OUTSIDE dad’s office, worrying my bottom lip as I work up the nerve to knock on the door. After a full two minutes, I realize that I’m being ridiculous. I don’t even bother knocking before I invite myself into the small space. He looks up from the paperwork in front of him, peeking at me from over his reading glasses, and I force a smile.
“Hey, sweetie. Need something?”
“Yeah, actually. Do you have a minute?”
He turns his head and looks at the clock in the corner of his computer screen, lifting his eyebrows in surprise. Something tells me he was so lost in whatever it is he’s doing, he didn’t even realize that the shop is already closed for the afternoon. Returning his gaze to me, he takes off his spectacles, tossing them onto his desk as he tells me, “Sure, kiddo. What’s up?”
I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out, so I seal my lips closed tight. My stomach knots up with worry, and I wish we could just skip to the end of this entire conversation, where my dad hugs me and tells me that he loves me no matter what.
“Hmm,” he hums. He leans back in his chair, lifting a hand to rub his knuckles along the underside of his chin, his eyes never leaving mine. I immediately know that he’s onto me. “Come here, Jill.”
Chewing the inside of my cheek, I make my way to the other side of the desk, leaning up against the edge, just beside his chair. He spins so that he’s facing me directly, and folds his arms across his chest before he goes on to ask, “Would it help to know that I’ve been waiting for this conversation?”
My eyes well up with tears, and I shake my head, looking down at my feet.
He bends toward me, propping himself on his elbows as he murmurs, “Out with it, Jill.”
“I can’t fight for him here,” I whisper, my voice shaky. “I can’t stay here and be with him. He needs to be where he is and I—dad, I feel like it’s getting harder to breathe without him. The longer we’re apart, the more frightened I become. I can’t lose him. I can’t lose him, too.”
“Go,” he states simply.
I suck in a breath, lifting my eyes to meet his.
Smiling at me, he repeats, “Go.”
“Just like that?”
He sighs, sitting upright once more before he tells me, “You’re all I’ve got left, kiddo. You and this coffee house, it’s the last of your mom that I’ve got. I promised her I’d take care of you both. You first and foremost.
“I appreciate what you do around here. You know how much I depend on you. But, sweetie, as much as I love having you here, you’re not irreplaceable.”
I cough out a teary laugh, scowling at him playfully. He chuckles, a small grin lighting up his eyes as he explains, “I can always find another barista. All that web stuff you do, you can help your old man out with that anywhere. I don’t need you to stay, Jill. I need you to be happy. I need you to live the life you want. I promised her—I promised her that when you were ready to fly, I’d let you go. It’s time. Go. If he’s worth it, if he’s who you want, go.”
He barely gets his last sentence out before I lunge at him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I love you, dad.”
“Jill—you have no idea,” he says in return, running a hand over my hair.
As I pull away from him, wiping my cheeks dry, I assure him, “He is worth it. Leo—he’s good to me. I mean, it’s complicated, he’s complicated, but—”
“Sweetie, I’ve known you all your life. Soon as he became a part of you, I knew. He lifts you up to your highest highs, and he drags you down to your lowest lows. ‘Course, I’d rather see you high than low, but I know what it is to love somebody through it all. You don’t have to explain it to me.”
I nod, reaching up to bring my ponytail over my shoulder. Fidgeting with my ends, I inform him, “They’ll be home in three days.”
“Jill?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at me.
“Yeah?”
“I’ll be just fine. Do what you have to.”
Propping myself up with a hand on his shoulder, I lean in and kiss his cheek before I whisper, “Thanks, daddy.”
AS SOON AS I get out of my car, I pull out my phone. Hurrying toward my front door, I bring up Corie’s contact information and send a call through. I’m fumbling with the lock when she answers.
“Hello?”
“Hey, babe, I need your help.”
“Might this have something to do with a certain broody someone who seems to have lost his smile somewhere in Seattle?”
My door halfway open, I stand frozen for a moment, thinking about how miserable I’ve been without him. Even with the miles and the silence that stretch on between us, I remember the look in his eyes when he walked away from me two and a half weeks ago. I remember all that it is I’m fighting for. He’s always done all that he could to protect me—to keep me safe. Now it’s my turn to save him.
Stepping into my apartment, I close myself in, my fingers reaching for the chain lock that always makes me think of him. Sliding it home, I repeat Corie’s question in my head before I confess, “Yes—as a matter of fact, it does.”