Becca

Sitting up in bed, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as I yawned. Throwing off the blanket, my bare feet froze as they touched the cold tiles on the floor in my bedroom.

A soft knock sounded on the door and I turned as my mother's voice called, "Becca, wake up!"

I groaned. What time was it? Grabbing a sweater hanging off the chair to my desk, I wrapped it around me quickly as I opened the door and walked down the hallway, following the smell of coffee into the kitchen.

My mother was leaning against the counter as she poured a pot of coffee into two mugs.

"Morning," I greeted her, taking a seat at the table as I eyed the steaming coffee.

My mother turned towards me and smiled, grabbing both mugs in her hand as she took the seat opposite mine. "You slept in." She commented, handing me a mug.

I lifted the mug to my face and let the steam warm me up. "I did?" I asked, taking a small sip and wincing as the liquid burned my throat. I brushed it off and took another sip, letting the caffeine slowly wake me up.

My mother laughed, her blond bob swinging around her chin. "It's two in the afternoon, Becca."

I nearly choked as I took another sip. "What?" I sputtered out.

My mother simply rolled her eyes and stirred sugar into her mug. "How was dinner?" She asked. I immediately smiled as I thought back to my date last night with Brett.

"Great," I replied, chewing on my lip as I spun my cup around gently on the table, watching the coffee lap over the sides of the mug.

"Where did you two go?" My mother asked, watching me with her eyebrows raised.

I brushed aside the growing suspicion that she knew more than she was letting on and told her the name of the restaurant Brett had taken me to. Her eyes widened instantly.

"He didn't know about dad." I assured her, shrugging before I took another sip.

"I haven't been there in years," my mother replied absentmindedly, her eyes clouding over as she stared at her mug.

I studied her face, looking for any signs of sadness or pain. I couldn't find a single trace of either. She simply looked unaffected by the memory of my father.

"You don't need to stay away from certain places because of the memories they carry, Mom." I placed my mug on the table as a thought came to me. "Before," I said slowly, rolling the words over in my mind before I spoke them. "You talked to dad and said he wanted to make amends with me."

My mother looked up quickly and blinked, a droplet of coffee spilling over the side of her mug as her hand shook. "That was months ago, Becca."

"Yes," I replied, remembering the time I had been so afraid at the thought of seeing my father again. "What did he say to you when he called?"

My mother took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair, her light blue eyes that almost looked grey locked on mine.

"That he was sorry," she began, her words coming out slowly. "That he wanted to see you again ... That he regrets abandoning you."

"What about his relationship with you?" I took a sip from the mug to mask the dryness in my mouth.

My mother shook her head. "Neither of us regret ending our marriage, Becca. The only regret he has is allowing our divorce to end his relationship with you as well."

I stared into the blackness of my mug, watching the coffee ripple as I slowly slide it side to side. The subject of my father was one I had spent six years avoiding, not wanting to deal with the wounds that reopened every time I thought of him.

But something about being at that restaurant last night with Brett gave me a sliver of confidence. There I was, sitting in a room that overflowed with old memories of my dad and not one of them had any impact on me.

It felt as if Brett's presence overshadowed all the negative glimpses of my father that still lingered in that restaurant's walls. When they tried to pull me under, he was the glimmer of light in the darkness.

I couldn't shake the feeling that I had come so far but there was still one weight holding me down -- one last rope I had to cut before I could truly move forward and leave the memories behind me.

"Do you still have his address?"

My mother's eyes widened at my question. She opened her mouth, as if to warn me not to go through with what I already had planned, but shut it quickly.

I watched as my mom stood up and walked to the fridge. She ripped a sticky note off the magnetic pad and pulled a pen out of the drawer.

Pushing back the warnings in my mind, I watched as my mother's hand shook as she scribbled down my father's address onto the blank sheet of paper.

"That's it," she said quietly, folding the paper in half and pushing it across the table quickly with one finger, as if touching it any longer would burn her.

I picked up the paper and held it in my hand as I walked to the other side of the table and hugged my mother. Her arms wrapped around me quickly, holding onto me tightly.

"I have to do this, Mom," I said softly.

My mother grabbed my shoulders as she stared at me, her fingers brushing a loose piece of hair behind my ear.

"I understand." She kissed my forehead and smiled, grabbing my cheek in her palm. "I'm so proud of the woman you're becoming, Becca."

I laughed to fight off the tears stinging my eyes and returned my mother's smile.

"I had a really great role model," I teased, hugging her once more.

Once I was back in my room, I texted Brett and asked him to come pick me up, deciding to leave details to a minimum. I had the suspicion he would try to talk me out of this and, even worse, I knew it would work.

But I needed this. Closure, a final goodbye -- whatever it was. I knew seeing my father one final time was necessary in order for me to finally leave him in the past. 

I quickly took a shower, put on a pair of jeans and a light blue sweater then pulled my hair up into a ponytail My heart was racing the entire time. I tried to push the warning thoughts aside and focus on the feeling of triumph I would have when this was all over.

My phone vibrated on my desk and I grabbed it, glancing at the screen and the text from Brett announcing he was in the parking lot waiting for me.

"Mom, I'm leaving!" I called as I walked down the hallway to the door. I glanced behind me and waited for a moment to say goodbye but the door to her room remained shut.

I knew the realization of where I was going was just as hard for her to handle as it was for me.

I took a deep breath and shut the door behind me, locking it quickly before I walked down the hall to the elevator, my hands shaking at my side.

* * *

"Where to?" Brett asked once I was settled in his car, tapping my foot with agitation as he pulled out of my building.  

I pulled the rumpled piece of paper out of my pocket and glanced at it for the first time. Brett eyed the piece of paper but said nothing, he only rested his hand on my thigh and intertwined his fingers with mine.

I read him the address and he nodded once, making a left at the intersection.

"Who lives there?" He asked casually, turning down the volume of the radio as he spoke.

"My dad."

The tires squealed as the car suddenly jerked to the side of the road. My head slammed against the headrest as Brett killed the engine. When he turned his body to face me, I had to pull my gaze away from the anger in his eyes.

"Becca --" He began but I quickly raised my hand and cut him off.

"I need to do this," I told him, repeating the words I had said earlier to my mother. My voice broke and I shut my eyes for a second, trying to squeeze back the tears.

"You don't owe him anything," Brett whispered, reaching over the centre and grabbing my hand in his.

"No, but I owe it to myself."

Brett's face softened at my words but I could still see the tension built up in his body: squared shoulders, tight jaw, his free hand resting on his thigh in a fist.

He didn't like this, but it wasn't his choice. It was mine.

"Why?" Was all he said as he stared out the window and watched the cars driving past.

"I don't know," I said awkwardly, removing my hand from his and playing with his fingers as I spoke. "Maybe closure?" I thought out loud. "I feel like something is still holding me back, Brett."

"And you think that something is your father?" He replied, turning his head to face me once more. The anger in his voice was gone, but there was still a bite to his words.

"Yes. No. Maybe?" I sighed, running my hand through my hair. "I'm tired of trying to avoid the topic of my dad, Brett. For the last six years, that's all I've been doing. I think it's time to bite the bullet and face the problem head on."

Brett's eyes roamed over my face, his hand tightening in mine. "What are you going to say to him?"

I laughed. "I haven't thought that far ahead yet."

Brett smiled but it disappeared quickly, his eyebrows drawing together in the middle. "I don't think this is a good idea," he warned, his mouth forming a tight line.

"It's not your choice to make," I said simply.

Brett ran a hand through his hair and I could practically see the frustration rolling off him in waves.

"Just drive, Brett. Please."

He continued to sit there, his eyes closed as he rested his head against the seat and made no attempt to move.

"Brett,"I warned. His eyes opened quickly at my tone and he cocked his head to the side, watching me with sadness in his eyes.

"I don't want you to get hurt," he said softly.

"That's kind of inevitable, Brett." I shot back, my voice rising as the frustration settled in.

Every second we spent here idling was another second my brain had the chance to convince itself of a hundred more reasons why I shouldn't be doing this.

I was sick of being idle. I wanted to act.

"Please drive," I begged once again. When Brett made no motion to start the engine, I slammed my hands onto my lap and opened the door, quickly climbing out of the car as Brett yelled my name from behind.

"Becca!" He yelled again but I ignored it.

I reached the sidewalk and had walked a few steps when Brett's hands gently grabbed my arms and held me in place. I could feel his gaze boring into me as I stared intently at his chest, not wanting to see all the emotions swimming in his eyes.

A tear spilled down my cheek and I hated myself for being so weak. Brett's finger was there quickly, brushing across my skin, light as a feather, and wiping the tear away.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, pulling me to his chest. I gave into his embrace and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing him to me as tightly as I could.

I felt my tears disappear into the cotton of his shirt. I was doing this for him, couldn't he see that? I feared that my father would always wedge himself into my life, stopping me from ever fully moving forward until I faced the man responsible for so many of my demons.

Brett removed his arms from my back as he pulled himself away from me, holding my face gently in his hands. Finally, I looked into his eyes and was taken back by the amount of love visible in the depths of blue.

"I don't think you should do this," he said softly. Before I could wiggle out of his grasp, he continued speaking. "But, you're right. It's not my choice to make, Becca. If this is what you want, then let's go."

I let loose a deep breath and smiled up at him. I would have visited my father with or without his approval, but having his support made this seem a little bit easier.

"I'm scared," I confessed, sniffling as the cold breeze wrapped itself around us.

Brett smiled. "You were also scared to fall in love with me, but look how that turned out."

I rolled my eyes as Brett laughed. His finger tip traced my lips, warmth spreading through my body at his touch.

"What I mean," he began. "Is that being scared isn't necessarily a bad thing, love. The outcome is usually greater than the fear itself."

"And what if it's not?" I asked, wanting to prepare for the worst possible outcome.

Brett shrugged as he grabbed my hands in his, rubbing our palms together as the wind began to pick up. "Then you still have me," he said simply, leaning down and kissing my forehead.

I leaned up on my tiptoes and wrapped my arms around Brett's neck, pulling his face down to mine and placing my lips on his. The warmth from his body radiated through me and it was enough to fight off the bitter chill in the air.

I needed him, I realized. I needed his comfort. His warmth. The ease that managed to settle through me whenever I was in Brett's presence. And with him, I felt sure that I could tackle anything and everything that came my way.

Brett chuckled when I pouted as he pulled his face away from mine. I knew that he too would be content to live in this moment forever.

I took a deep breath and smoothed out my sweater, adjusting the hem around the waist of my jeans.

"I don't want to rebuild a relationship with my father," I told him, voicing the realization I had come to in the car. "I just want to have that final moment to say goodbye."

Brett nodded and I knew he understood. Even though our family dynamics were different, yet horrible in their own way, he also understood the pain of losing a father that was still alive.

"He left when I was a kid, Brett. He never said goodbye. I never had that moment to really accept it and let him go. He just kind of ... disappeared." I let out a breath and wrapped my arms around my waist. "I need to do this," I said, nodding to myself.

"Then let's go." Was all Brett replied as he grabbed my hand in his and lead me back to his car.

I was silent for the remainder of the drive to my father's house. In my mind, I was replaying a thousand and one ways to greet him when he opened the door, what to say to him to properly convey what I was feeling.

When the car finally came to a stop, I took a deep breath. Thirty-seven minutes. It had taken thirty-seven minutes to drive from my apartment to my father's house. Thirty- seven minutes that he couldn't spare in six years.

The roar of the engine died as Brett turned to me, worry written in the lines of his face. He reached over and grabbed my hand in his, knowing that this was exactly what I needed in this moment.

"Do you want me to come with you?" He asked slowly. I kept my eyes locked on his, still yet to take a glance out the window and see the house waiting outside.

"No," I told him gently, shaking my head. "I need to do this alone." Brett nodded once and rubbed his thumb in circles on the back of my hand.

Taking a deep breath, I finally turned my head to the window and looked outside. It was a house. A regular, two-car garage house with dark brown bricks and a black roof. The driveway was worn out, with cracks and small holes doting the asphalt. The grass was neatly cut, with bushes lining the walkway to the front door where a small bench sat on the porch.

If I had walked by this house any other day, I wouldn't even have given it a second glance. I probably would have assumed it was the home to a family -- a young couple madly in love with a little baby girl who slept upstairs in her crib.

But looking at it now, I struggled to find beauty in the home in front of me. It was ordinary, another boring house on a street lined with dozens just like it.

I placed my hand on the doorknob, preparing to open the door when Brett's hand rested on my shoulder. I glanced towards him and he smiled, trailing his fingers down my cheek.

"I'm right here if you need anything."

He seemed to always be right here, whenever and wherever I needed him. Always.

I leaned in quickly and kissed him, memorizing the feel of his lips on mine as I opened the door to the car and stepped outside.

The cold air hit me. I wrapped my arms around myself as I walked up the driveway towards the front door. My heartbeat was echoing loudly in my ears with each step I took -- each step that lead me closer to my father.

My father. I had avoided him and the thought of him for six years now. But today, there was no way to avoid what was soon to be right in front of my face.

I stood in front of the door and took a deep breath to steady my racing heart. I quickly forced my hand to ball into a fist and knock before I changed my mind and ran back into the car.

The knock echoed through the still air and I froze, the weight of what I was about to do finally hitting me at full force. Right as I was about to turn around and run down the driveway, the door creaked loudly as it was pulled open.

My eyes trailed up the person's slender frame before locking on a pair of foreign brown eyes.

The woman's mouth dropped open as she stared at me, her arms hanging limply at her side.

"Becca." She said, sounding completely awe struck.

I pulled myself together and managed to smile at my father's girlfriend -- at the woman I had never met or even seen before. The woman my father had decided was more important than his entire family.

Casting aside my hatred for this woman, I forced myself to swallow my nerves and speak.

"Is my father home?"

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Hey guys! I hope you liked this chapter. I'm oddly very proud of this one for some reason and the way I wrote it -- hope you feel so, too!

Celebration: On August 1st (2017) RIVALS was featured by Wattpad! It's officially under the Featured section in Teen Fiction! That was like the best thing ever to wake up to on my birthday and I'll definitely remember that forever :)

Update: I'm leaving for Europe this Wednesday (August 9th) for the rest of the month! There are about 2-3 chapters left of RIVALS. I may write on my vacation if I'm feeling inspired but if not, just wanted to inform you guys for the reason if I take long to update this story.

Until next time! xo