Free My Heart for Yours by Jolene Perry, Stephanie Campbell

smell of him wear away. But on really bad days, I couldn’t help but put it on. Wanting any shred of him to be there with me.
     
    Dad disappeared, and I broke down into a fit of sobs that tugged and pulled at my insides. Who still thought this way—that their family was there to serve them or something? Everything about being in D.C. felt backwards.
     
    Mom was quiet, as always, but rested a hand on my shoulder. “You have to understand Delia. Your father was raised by a very harsh man and has worked really hard to get to where he is.”
     
    At that moment I hated Tobin for backing away almost as much as I hated Dad for pushing me forward. I wanted to scream at Mom that I didn’t care about Dad and where he was from. He should already see that he’d taken everything from me.
     
    And as Mom sat next to my bed trying to explain away her husband’s behavior, she pulled another long drink from the cup she’d left on my nightstand.
     
    All I knew in that moment was that I was too tired to fight anymore. I’d fought for time with Tobin. I’d fought for Tobin. I’d fought for control of this situation that we put ourselves in. But Dad was right— where was Tobin now, when I needed him?
     
    ***
     

     
    I roll over in bed and try to get comfortable again, but I can’t do it.
     
    Out. Out. Out. It’s all I can think as I slide off my mattress.
     
    This routine I could do in my sleep. I lock my door, go the bathroom and smear a few drops of jasmine oil on my wrists before I remember I’m not meeting anyone and didn’t need to do that.
     
    I glance around at the pink. Tobin gave me so much crap over my pink bedroom and bathroom. I used to tell him over and over that I picked it all out when I was fourteen and couldn’t be held liable. I think he used it as an excuse to tease me.
     
    Weston hadn’t said a thing. He’d never been to this house, and never said a thing about my ridiculously girly room. Damn, Tobin for still being in my head.
     
    I still don’t know if Tobin’s just a part of this place, or more a part of me than I realized. Either way, his name brings equal amounts of pain and something I don’t understand.
     
    My soft cut-offs are where I left them in my closet, and they’re a little big from my salad and coffee diet, but they’ll stay on. In minutes I’m sitting on the edge of my window, waiting for the courage to drop down. I’ve done this a million times. A million .
     
    But I can’t do it. It’s too far.
     
    I’m pissed at myself when I slide back inside. Now what am I going to do?
     
    The obvious answer hits me.
     
    Go out the front door.
     
    The house is silent as I sneak through, until my hand hits the front door, and someone clears their throat. My stomach seizes up at the thought of being caught. Dad was one thing, Weston would probably be another. He’d want to come, or keep me inside, and I can’t stand the thought of either.
     
    I spin around and see Mom in her bathrobe, leaning against the counter with a mug in her hands watching me. She’s drinking in the middle of the night. I think this is new, but not positive.
     
    “ I…” I start to whisper.
     
    She shakes her head, a tiny smile on the edge of her mouth. “Be quiet when you come back. I’ll leave the door unlocked.” Her voice isn’t even a whisper, and I wonder if I heard her right.
     
    My jaw drops. I’m a bit shocked, and bewildered, but I’ll take it. I think I nod or wave or react in some way before tiptoeing out the door, and closing it silently behind me. It makes me wonder what it would have been like if Mom had been the one who caught me sneaking back in that first time, instead of Dad.
     

     
    ***
     
    The first time I got caught sneaking out was awful. Well, I was actually trying to sneak back in. I saw my dad on the porch before Tobin did. He always walked me back home—unless he was too drunk, in which case I’d leave him with Eamon, making him promise me he wouldn’t try some