Page 9 of My Secret Santa Dallas

“So, I’m an avatar for your grievance,” she said, with a thin brow arched. “Don’t you think that it’s a bit unfair? I don’t know who shafted you, but it wasn’t me.”

My eyes narrowed. “Swear to me you won’t abuse Warrick’s trust and desperation?”

“You have my word,” Miss Perfect said. “Now, will you stop looking at me as if I am going to poison the well and drop Lassie in it?”

I pushed away from her and grunted. “I still have my eye on you. If you slip up, you’re out of here.”

“Noted,” she said dryly.

Returning to the ranch, I decided to find Warrick and speak with him to get the goddamn elephant out of the room. It wouldn’t clear the air entirely, but it would do away with some tension. I still couldn’t understand how he’d accepted me back home so easily after all the shit I’d done.

I found him in his office just as his girl was exiting. She smiled shyly at me and jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Just delivered some coffee. You know, soothe the beast, kind of thing.”

“Been there,” I replied, stepping through the office door.

Warrick was hunched over his desk, a pile of files before him, and I hesitated to interrupt him, but I was already inside, and there was no sense in turning back. “Warrick, you got a minute?”

He looked up, shifted his work to the side, and reached for his coffee. “Yeah, I got a couple. I needed to speak with you, too.”

I sat in the chair across from him, took a breath, and… not a word came from my mouth. It was not that I didn’t know what to say; I just had too much to say. Warrick sat back and cocked his head at me.

“What happened after I left?” I asked.

He placed the cup down and fingered the lid. “Mom cried. Dad shut himself off, and I didn’t know what to do. I mean, it was the night before Thanksgiving, Dallas. We’d prepared for it for weeks and were ready to celebrate as a family, only to find out you were gone.”

I gritted my teeth. “I— I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Warrick pushed the cup aside and scrubbed both hands over his face. “We were all over the place for a long time, Dallas. We didn’t know what to do or how to track you down. Mom was scared you’d end up dead in aditch, but Dad knew you were street-smart enough to get to where you were going.”

“And you?” I asked.

“I slept in your bed for three months straight,” Warrick replied.

I slumped over and covered my mouth with my hand. I stared at the wooden swirls of his desk until I could draw them from memory.

Guess we’re getting into the hard part of the conversation I never wanted to have.

Pulling back, I said, “I did survive, but it was shit. I overestimated how easy it would be to get to Cali and succeed there. It took me half a year of bouncing through halfway houses and homeless shelters, finishing my diploma at eighteen.”

“Went to college, I assume?”

“After working at night, yeah,” I replied.

Warrick’s jaw worked for a moment before he got up, crossed the room to take a book from his shelf, and removed something from it. When he came back, he slid the paper to me, and my stomach dropped to my scrotum. It was the note I’d left on my dresser before I’d left; it was weather-stained and yellowed with age, but was intact.

I didn’t need to read it— I remembered every word— but I read it anyway.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I am sorry, but there is no other way. I have to leave. I don’t think I belong here; I know I don’t belong here. I’m going to Colorado, please don’t follow me. I’ll be alright.

Dallas

“Except you didn’t go to Colorado. You went to Cali,” Warrick said. “Dad went to Colorado to look for you; he searched shelters and halfway houses, but to no avail.”

“I was there for a week before I moved on,” I said.

“He looked every weekend for three months,” Warrick said. “Mom cried every night, and the townspeople who knew you were shocked that you had upped and left. Even Jessi MacKormac was so happy you were taking her to prom.”

---