Page 90 of The Relationship Clause

“Are you going to end up being one of those girls who hardly sees their significant other because they’re never around?”

Dad’s words drop into my stomach, souring like bad milk and leaving me sick. I hate that he said those things to me. I hate even more that they’re already getting to me. Weaseling their way into my brain and sending out creeping, strangling vines of doubt.

I gather my purse, the rubber feet of my chair moving loudly against the wooden floor. “I need to go,” I say, not looking him in the eye. “I need to get back to work.”

“Junebug.”

“Goodbye, Dad.”

“Junie, wait—”

But I’m already gone.

Back at the office, I can hardly concentrate. My phone buzzes again and again, the name “Dad” appearing on the screen. Each time, I ignore it until I become so fed up that I silence my phone completely.

I huff and stand from my desk, needing to move, needing somewhere for this nervous energy and pent-up aggression to go. There’s got to be something I can restock.

Inside the supply closet, I gloss over boxes of pens and staples, reams of paper, and other various odds and ends. None of it computes. My concentration is shattered. Pinpricks of tears threaten to appear behind my eyes. I can’t cry. I cannot cry at work. But the tears are persistent, so I lean against the door, focusing on deep breathing. A box of tissues on the shelf to my left taunts me, so I grab it and rip it open.

The handle of the closet jiggles. “Junie? Is that you in there?” comes Kiera’s muffled voice.

I suck in a breath. “Yes.”

“Can I come in?”

“Um, I’d kind of like to be alone.”

There’s a short pause. “Lunch with your dad didn’t go well?”

And now I can’t possibly hold the tears back any longer. They fall down my cheeks right onto my shirt, which soaks the little wet spots up in a super obvious way. Great. As if my splotchy face and red eyes weren’t enough. I grab a tissue to stop the flow.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kiera asks.

And here’s the thing: I know talking about it is a good idea. Logically, I understand it’s a lot to process. But the side of my brain that’s in control right now is not the logical side. It’s the side that throws up the white flag and retreats at the first sign of trouble. It’s the one that practically forces me to pull my head and all my extremities inside a big, hard, turtle shell in order to keep myself safe. Lately, I’ve been good at keeping this side of my brain in check and not letting it get the best of me. But today, I’m too tired and too scared to fight it.

“No, I’ll be okay,” I call back, forcing the wobble out of my voice as best I can. “I need a couple of minutes.”

There’s another pause, this time longer. I’m half wondering if she’s gone, but then Kiera says, “Okay,” and something slides through the space under the door.

I pick up the folded piece of paper and open it.

I’m a phone call or a text away. PLEASE let me know if you need anything. Don’t run away. If you don’t feel like you can talk to me, maybe you can talk to Owen?

Love you like a sister,

Kiera

More tears. More stupid, ugly, pitiful tears. It’s almost enough to get me to jump out of the closet. But I don’t. I slide to the floor, crumpling her note in my hand. Eventually, I do leave the little room, but it takes almost half the box of tissues and a lot of checking my reflection in the sides of the shiny, metal shelves before I’m ready.

When I get back to my desk, there are a couple of new calls from my dad, but I swipe those notifications away and select my texting app. It takes a few more deep breaths and internal pep talks, but eventually, I type out a message to Owen, only deleting and rewriting three times before finally sending it.

Junie: Hey, I know you’re busy, but could you give me a call when you get a chance?

There. I did it. I did it, and it feels good. Kind of. It also kind of feels like I’m holding a scalpel over my exposed chest, ready to cut my own heart out.

But at least I’m not running away. I’m running away from my dad, but I’m not running from Owen. Not yet.

CHAPTER 29

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