Chapter Fifteen: Letter

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Chapter Fifteen: Letter

My phone vibrates against the kitchen counter, grabbing my attention.

I glance at the screen and sigh.

Not again.

Dad: you can't just ignore her forever you know

Me: last time I checked, I wasn't the one who slapped her in front of everyone. I'm not the Levinsky punching bag, but her and mom seemed to think so.

Dad: it was two weeks ago. We can't all hang out if you two can't coexist

Me: is she going to apologize?

Dad: idk

Me: then it looks like we can't coexist.

Dad: just come tonight. If not for me, then for everyone.

Me: it's just a simple barbecue.

Dad: exactly so there's no reason you can't go

Me: who's going to be there

Dad: everyone

Me: does that include Marie's daughter and her husband

Dad: yes. She's part of us now grace. I'm probably going to marry Marie.

Dad: just come.

"Is he still trying to get you to go?" Danny asks.

"Yeah." I grumble. "Maybe we should just go so I can fix things between me and Abby. It's been two weeks-"

"You aren't the one that has to fix anything." Danny argues.

"Well she's not going to do it! One of us has to be an adult."

He sighs, running his fingers through his hair.

"Fine, but if she tries to start anything, we're leaving."

"Fine." I reply. "It's not like I want to go anyways."


*****


Maybe it's because I'm on my period, or maybe it's because I'm within a ten foot radius of Lauren, the abuser accuser, and Abby, the actual abuser, but I'm seriously pissed off today.

In fact, I'm so pissed off, I'm thinking about grabbing a beer.

The first and last time I sipped a beer, I ended up running to Danny sobbing my eyes out, and I haven't had one since. I haven't even touched one.

The kids are at the playground with Danny and the rest of the fathers, leaving me alone with all of the girls.

That's probably a bad idea because all I can think about is punching Abby straight in her face, and the only one who can calm me down is Danny.

"You could at least try to look a little less murderous." Megan mutters to me, bumping her arm with mine. I look at her and clear my throat.

"Can you blame me?" I mutter.

"Honestly, I would've punched her in the nose the second she hit me." She says. "I was about to punch her when she hit you. Why didn't you hit her back?"

I take a deep breath in an effort to calm myself.

"Because I'm not my mother."

"Punching her back doesn't make you your mother." She says quietly.

"It kinda does. It starts with her, and then it's my own kids, and then-"

"You would never hurt a child. You wouldn't hurt anything unless it was seriously justified."

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