Realize (COMPLETED)

15.

Lisa

Talking with Jennie on the porch, like most of our conversations since she's been here, didn't go the way I'd hoped. When I woke up this morning, the guilt of keeping her confined to her room started to gnaw at me. I hate the paranoia that grips me, the constant fear that she'll run if I loosen the reins even a little. I want to trust her, to stop letting my fears dictate everything, and give her more freedom—at least while I'm here. She deserves that much, doesn't she?

I sound like a complete asshole...

She doesn't make it easy. Nothing about Jennie is straightforward—everything about her is layered with complications. I can't even figure out how to talk to her without her snapping at me. Honestly, it's a good thing Rosie called when she did, or I'm pretty sure things would've spiraled out of control fast.

After our tense exchange, Jennie disappeared back to her room, leaving me to stew over what Rosie had dropped on me during her call. Apparently, she "kind of let it slip" to Mom that I'm housing a pregnant girl. Kind of. Now, I have to brace myself for an inevitable visit because Mom, in her usual fashion, has decided she needs to meet my "house guest."

I already know she won't understand why I'm doing this. Hell, sometimes I forget why I'm doing this. Jennie is...a lot. Our personalities don't mesh, which makes things harder. She keeps everything bottled up so tightly that it's impossible to get a read on her. And when she finally does let something out, it's usually in the form of sharp words hurled in my direction, triggered by me saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.

She's a puzzle I can't seem to solve, and it's exhausting.

I could use some advice. Maybe Mom coming over isn't the worst idea after all. I've never dealt with someone like Jennie before. Sure, I've had plenty of female friends, and I've dated around, but those were all nice, respectable women—nothing like this. Even Niki, with all her struggles, was tame compared to Jennie's emotional rollercoaster. I know I can't force Jennie to trust me, but I wish she'd let her guard down, just a little. I'm not the bad guy here. Those men who hurt her—they're the ones she should fear, not me.

Maybe I'm smothering her... No, that doesn't feel right.

The front door creaks open, snapping me out of my thoughts, and Rosie comes barreling in. She gives a quick wave before heading upstairs. I don't even bother trying to stop her anymore.

Back to my inner turmoil. I don't smother Jennie—not the way my subconscious accuses me of. Smothering would mean I hover, and let's be honest: we can barely stand to be in the same room without it turning into an argument. Whatever this is, it's not me being overbearing. So, what is it?

It's the questions. I know that's the problem—the constant pushing for her to open up when she clearly doesn't want to. I only ask because I'm genuinely curious about the stranger living under my roof. As insane as this entire arrangement already is, how am I supposed to help her if I don't understand why she is the way she is?

"Hey, Lisa!" Rosie chirps, waltzing into the living room with her usual over-the-top energy.

"What do you want?" I ask, already wary.

Her signature devious smirk appears, and I know she's up to something. She always is. "I want to take Jennie shopping."

"When?"

"No time like the present."

I hesitate. This doesn't feel like a good idea. Shopping doesn't sound like something Jennie would suggest herself, and the last thing I want is for Rosie to push her into something she's uncomfortable with. "I don't know if she's up for that," I reply cautiously.