Off the Rails

Chapter Sixteen

Dakota
Two hours later, the sun beat down, hot on my back, as I walked out of Liam's mansion, tears glimmering in my eyes.

I broke up with him. I told him the reason I couldn't be with him was because I had feelings for someone else— his best friend.

Obviously, he was hurt. And I hated to see him like that. I really did care for him.

And I think the most unfair part was the he was completely blind sided by all of this. Last night, we were kissing and planning to go to prom together. It was a painful shock.

But he had his suspicions.

"I mean, I always knew you and Drake had something. I was stupid to think what we had was better," Liam had said, refusing to look at me.

"You are the perfect guy, Liam. You are. I'm so sorry. You deserve so much better. I should have never done this to you... but I can't let it go on longer," I had replied, desperately wanting him to know how fantastic he was, how it wasn't his fault.

I thought he was going to be angry. But he wasn't. He was just sad. And that was heartbreaking. I never, ever wanted to hurt him.

But it was fair. I couldn't keep playing this game with him and Drake. Everyone had been right— I relied on Drake more than anyone. And if that was so, then I never could love Liam, not really. I could only ever love his best friend.

I mentioned that I still wanted Liam in my life as a friend, if he would be okay with that, and he said he needed some time, but would like that eventually.

I got into my car, now in a fresh change of clothes I kept in my trunk, and sat there for a few moments, head resting on the steering wheel.

This was officially the worst day of my life. I just broke up with my boyfriend and now I had to go face my dad.

But maybe, just maybe, by the end of the day something good would come out of it. Maybe Drake and I would finally get our chance.

That thought was enough to pick my head up and start the car.

I arrived at my house, tentatively standing in front of the front door. After a few minutes of hesitation, I opened it.

My parents were now sitting in my living room, still deep in discussion. My mom sat on a chair, far away from the couch where my father sat. The air in the room felt tense. They both looked my way when I entered.

My dad looked exhausted, and ran a hand through his hair, something that painfully reminded me of Drake. But his eyes lit up a bit when he saw me.

"I'm so glad you came back," he mumbled, almost as if he was afraid to speak to me.

"Well, it's my house," I replied, bitterly.

"I know it's a lot to take in, Dakota. But I think we all need to talk." My mother said calmly, her eyes locked on the ground. She looked flustered.

"Mom, you hate him! We hate him!" I yelled, tears coming to my eyes. "Now you wanna 'talk'?!"

"You have every right to hate me, Dakota. You do." My dad said. "I am so sorry for all the hell I've put you through."

"I've heard your apologies before, Dad. I'm not falling for it again," I spat.

"I haven't had a single drink in six months," he blurted out. "I know that doesn't make up for it, but I'm trying. I got some help, and some docs think that me acting out like that was because of a mental health issue I have. I'm taking medication for it everyday, and I feel good. I joined a support group, and I'm working on things. I'm getting better. You and your mom leaving really knocked some sense into me. I need you, and I know I don't deserve a second chance, but I'm begging for one."