Never Letting Go

Chapter Twelve

Something changed from that moment on in our friendship. It was as if that one event had cemented our friendship and there was no going back. Kenzie knew that I was a person that could be turned to if she had a problem and I was on the road to beginning to trust that she was someone I could turn to and trust as well.

It became somewhat of a standard practice to spend a good bit of my time at Kenzie's house. Most days after I was done with work, I would head over to her house and help out with the kids for a bit so she wasn't so frazzled. While only two months ago I was spending almost all of my time at Colton's house, now I was mainly seeing him at school and when he would stop by the diner when I was working.

Things also were changing slightly at home. While I wasn't spending any more time there than usual, the phone began ringing more and my dad was appearing around the house more. He hadn't begun seeking me out or talking to me much, but it seemed like it could be a start in the right direction.

It was one of those days when I was switching out clothes and grabbing a few things. As soon as I entered the house I headed up the stairs, straight to my room. When my hand touched the door, the phone began to ring and I glanced down the hall at it, unsure of whether or not I felt like answering it. I had seen my brother's car in the driveway so it could have been one of his friends, giving me less incentive to pick up, and there was the potential that he could handle it. I heard shuffling in the kitchen downstairs and then the phone stopped ringing. A "Hello?" came from the kitchen and I paused, curious who was on the phone.

"What the hell are you doing calling here?" my brother's voice angrily exclaimed, filling me with confusion instantly. I had no idea who in the world he would be responding to with so much hatred.

"Don't give me that bull. You don't care about me and you never did... You only wanted her... Don't call here anymore."

The phone slammed loudly and the door followed it a few seconds later, causing me to jump.

"Derek?" I heard my dad's voice call out and the door opened again before closing. I waited a few moments, frozen in place. I could hear arguing voices coming from outside but was unable to make out what they were saying. I quickly made my way into my room, figuring it was best to grab the things I needed and get out before things got ugly. I heard the sound of car tires squealing and then an engine roared as a car took off down the street.

After a few minutes of silence, I deemed it safe to make my way downstairs and grab something to eat before heading back out again. I pulled out a can of chili out of the cabinet to throw in the microwave to make something to eat quickly.

I was shocked when my dad walked into the kitchen, since I was under the impression he would have taken off again, as he usually did whenever he got into an argument with my brother, or was upset, or just whenever. It seemed as if no member of the family liked spending anytime longer than was necessary in this old house with the painful memories it held. He was looking at a piece of paper oddly and then he sat down at the counter, looking deep in thought. He didn't appear to have noticed to me yet.

"Hi," I muttered and looked at him for a few seconds, merely getting a quick glance before his attention was averted back to a piece of paper he was holding.

I sighed, mentally scolding myself for thinking he would bother responding, and turned my attention back to the microwave.

"Wait," he called after me.

I stopped and turned around slowly, unable to stop the hope from building up inside of me. He might barely notice me half the time and ignore me whenever he did, but he was still my dad. There was a part of me just yearned to be accepted and acknowledged by him.