It Happens

Chapter 1

Disclaimer:

If you are reading this because you've read it before you'll notice that it seems completely different. This has been reconstructed and rewritten. The name of our beloved protagonist has been changed from Kylie James to Lauren Mcconnell. I originally planned to replace Killen Martinelli's name as well but I have somehow grown attatched to it, so it stays. You can find the original 2011 version on booksie. Also keep in mind that I wrote this plot when I was 16, while in the process of reconstruction I noticed that there were a lot of sentences or thoughts that contradicted previous and future ones and there wasn't really much I could do for them. We're just going to have to accept Lauren as the moronic, stereotyping thinker that she is. If you get aggravated by certain parts of the story, or actually just the story as a whole, (especially the part where she concludes Dylan is the woman that tore her family apart as they're shaking hands...seriously *shakes head sadly*) let's just bear with Lauren, she's going through a lot and she's in for a whole lot more.

Chapter One

I didn't want any of this.

I didn't want to leave the summer I had been planning my whole year around. I didn't want to leave the cold weather for the warm.

But here I was anyway. My father was holding me at arms length, examining the seven years of human growth that he had missed. I stood three inches taller than the last time he had seen me.

"Look at you," He said, in what I supposed was his best interpretation of a sentimental voice. I wasn't entirely sure lawyers had emotions. "You're all grown up now."

"Yup," I said. Even though I had tried my best to slip some kind of emotion into my voice it had come out dry, drab, nonchalant. That's kind of what happens when the only connection you have with your father is a check on your birthday, a greeting for every other holiday, and the occasional e-mail with not much more than a disingenuous hello, how are you?.

When I first heard about it, I had argued with my mother about the propriety of this visit. After seven years, he decided he wanted to spend some time with me and I didn't even get a say in it? It was unacceptable. It was not a square deal. But the ticket had been bought, the dates settled, all that was left to do was pack.

"I really missed you," My father said, as we walked to his car. I questioned his veracity. After seven years, why just now? There had to be some kind of incentive.

I fussed at my cellphone, which was bought with the check he had sent for my last birthday. "Missed you too,"

Already, I had ten missed calls from my mother who was a certified worry-freak. I had promised I would call when my flight landed, but instead texted. She had probably gone off the reservation by now, or gotten an ulcer, imagining the worst possible scenario. Like, somehow, somebody had kidnapped me and texted to finagle her into thinking I was perfectly fine. Which I was. But I couldn't imagine having a conversation with her with my father within earshot.

If the air out here, in this vast open lot, was this heavy with a pregnant silence, I couldn't even imagine how bad it would be inside the car. And we had miles ahead of us.

It wasn't until we were nearly a mile away from the airport that he spoke again.

"Okay," He said, tugging at his collar and glancing at me quickly. I only spent ten years of my life with him, but if there was anything I'd remember, it was this. I'd seen the gesture too many times before. He was nervous. "There is one thing I forgot to mention about the visit,"

I knew it. I knew there was an incentive. It's funny because I knew it all along. And then I was feeling completely hysterical with all these I knew it's bouncing around in my head. Lawyers don't have hearts. It was the mantra I had stuck to ever since he walked out on us. I couldn't imagine now why I wasn't sure earlier. They are heartless. Although I suppose I couldn't stereotype based on one person. But I, irrationally, was doing it anyway. I would convince myself time and again that it wasn't his fault. He was a lawyer. It was the lawyer in him that made him do it.