Authors Note: Hey guys, sorry it took me so long to update but I've been super busy lately and pretty down. The girl I've been dating for a while just called it off and to be honest, I'm not taking it very well. But since then, I have written two more paragraphs for Drive Me Crazy, so Yay for Break-Ups! I won't lie, things get getting pretty heated for Tegan and Sara in Drive Me Crazy, that it's making me so nervous to write it, but It should be done soon, hopefully. Also, I posted the first Chapter up of The First Love Sequel, the story is call My Only One, so if you liked First Love, go check it out. I went with the Alternate Ending, so I hope you guys enjoy it. Now for this story, here of course is the second chapter, and let me tell you . . .it's kind of fun yet sad to write this story. If some of you didn't read my note in First Love, I will let you know that this story isn't made up, it's a story of my past relationship. At the age of 16, I dated a girl who was also 16 too, but she had a child. So everything in this story has happened, some stuff might be changed up but other than the small things, everything is real. Unfortunately we didn't have a happy ending but we're still very good friends. One last thing, the way Tegan and Sara meet, is actually how My Ex and I met, except I'm a softball player. So please I hope you like this chapter, especially with the little tragedy, I think every story deserves some depth.

REVIEW,REVIEW,REVIEW & ENJOY :D

Chapter 2: Lilian

Tegan POV:

I pull into the familiar parking lot, noticing that it's nearly empty, only a couple of cars scattered around. I park in the nearest parking spot and shut off my car, sitting back in my seat. I look out of my window and start to smile softly, the empty field covered in thick green grass. I open my door and climb out of my car, feeling the fresh Spring air sink into my skin . . . God how I've missed this.

I close my door and put my keys inside my pants pocket, looking around the parking lot. It never looked liked this . . . at least not when I lived here. I feel a breeze brush passed me, making the scent of my coconut sun-block mix with the air, the sweet smell lingering in my nostrils. I let out a small sigh and start to head towards the field, my feet dragging me across the rough cement and on to the soft green grass. As I walk, I look around the park, the 2 baseball fields in the corner, the small little concessions stand right in between them, and the tall Trees with the big branches that create the perfect amount of shade on a hot summer day.

I stop walking and look down, there's no indent in the ground from where my body used to lay, but I know this spot by heart. I used to sit in this exact spot and watch The Junior Soccer Games, but most of the time . . . I would lay down in this exact spot, and watch the clouds pass me by, with my little sister right next to me.

I get down on my knees and lean back, my butt colliding with the hard ground. I bring my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, looking out into the open air. I broke my promise . . . I broke my promise to her. I drop my head down and feel my eyes start to water. I promised Lilian, that when I came back to Calgary, I wouldn't step foot in this park . . . not without her. But here I am, sitting in the center of the field, without her.

"I'm sorry, Lil."

I whisper, feeling a tear roll down each cheek. I miss her . . . I miss my sister. I miss the way her hair smelled, always of Strawberries. I miss the way she would jump on my bed, early every morning. I miss the way she would recite the words of her favorite Movies and TV shows. I miss the way she would follow me around from room to room, just to be with me at all times. I miss the way she would run straight to me, when Mom and Dad were mad at her. I miss the way she would lay in bed with me, with her head resting on my chest. But most of all, I miss the way she would grab my hand at the most randomness moments, just to tell me she loved me. . . I just, I miss my sister.

As the tears roll down my face, I lift my head, letting the fresh air cool the burning trails. I remember the first day I ever saw Lilian, the day my parents brought her home from the Adoption Agency. She was wrapped in a soft Pastel Pink blanket, wearing a white jumper, but it wasn't until that night that I actually got a look at her. I waited for my parents to go to sleep to sneak out of my bed and go to her room. When I opened her door, her room was lit; only by a small night-light in the corner. I was too small to look over the crib, so I pushed the rocking chair over to the edge and climbed on to it. When I peeked over the wooden railing, my eyes instantly went to the small bundle under the baby blankets. Under the dim light, I could only make out her pale white skin, and her tiny button nose. But those two features were enough to make my heart warm with love for her. And after a couple of seconds of just staring at her, I climbed over the railing and laid beside her, watching her sleep. That was the day I became a Big sister. And the day I became an only child again . . . was July 17th, 2009.

I bring my hands up to my face and wipe away the tears that have flooded my skin. It's been four years, four years since I've smelled her strawberry scented hair. Four years . . . without hearing her tell me, that she loves me.

I feel a small vibration in my front pocket, pulling me out of my thoughts. I sigh and reach inside my pocket, pulling out my iPhone and looking at the screen. As my Moms smiling face appears on the screen, I felt the all to familiar guilt rush in on me. She never did look at me the same after Lilian left, but I don't blame her . . . it was my fault.

"Hello?"

I answer low, hearing the sound of pots and pans hitting each other on the other line.

"Tegan, where are you at?"

I look back up, studying my park; she used to love bringing me and Lilian here . . . . I'm pretty sure she hates it now.

"At the field, Mom."

I hear her sigh and I sigh too. She knows I'm thinking about it. . .

"Well . . . come home. Your father got called into work, so I need you to help me clean the garage."

I nod, preparing my response in my head, when I hear a click on the other line. I pull my phone away from my ear and look at the screen, seeing the words 'Call Ended', fade away. I loosen my grip and let my phone fall to the ground, more guilt pushing its way under my skin. My parents think that they're the only ones who are broken and damaged from losing Lilian . . . but they're not. I was the one who sat in the middle of the street with her lifeless body in my hands, I was the one who screamed, begged and pleaded for someone to help her, I was the one who watched her eyes close for the last time, while she squeezed my hand with the last bit of strength left in her . My parents never exactly said it, but I know they blame me for her death . . . and the guilt of knowing that they're right, kills me inside, it eats away at my bones every second of the day. I'm beyond the point of Damaged, and far from the meaning of Broken.

I reach down and grab my phone from the ground, shoving it back into my front pocket. I take in a deep breath and let it out heavily, feeling a small weight lift from my shoulders. It hurts when I think about Lilian, it hurts a lot . . . but sometimes it leaves me with a clear head, something I don't get very often anymore. I'm always thinking about things, If I'm not thinking about my parents, I'm thinking about School. If I'm not thinking about School, I'm thinking about Lilian, and if I'm not thinking about Lilian, I'm thinking about Soccer . . .

I lift myself up from the ground and stand up straight, looking around the field once more. I thought it would have been hard for me to come back, especially to the place that carries the most memories of her . . . but I've only been back in Calgary for a couple of days . . . maybe it just hasn't hit me yet.

Sara POV:

I set my phone down on the coffee table and sit back again, feeling my body mold into the leather material. I take in a deep breath and throw my head back, my boredom starting to sink in. My Mom always told me that when she has Max, I should use that free time to rest up; that was the only thing she asked me to do, that I never did.

I hear our back door slam shut and the sound of my Dads heavy Construction Boots pound against the kitchen tile. I turn my head to the doorway and wait for a couple of seconds. Finally, he walks into the living room and I smile, watching him text away on his new blackberry the company gave him. He sighs and locks his phone, placing it inside the front pocket of his jeans. He lifts his head and looks at me on the couch, a small smile forming on his face.

"Dad, are you doing anything right now?"

I ask him, a hint of desperation in my voice. He chuckles lightly and makes his way over to the couch, plopping down on the cushion right next to me. I look up at him and he looks down at me, lifting his arm and throwing it over my shoulder.

"Bored, huh?"

He asks. I sigh and lean my head to the side, letting it rest on his shoulder as I nod.

"Yea, very."

He laughs and places his hand in my hair, messing up my brown wavy locks. I giggle and pull away, resting my head back against the cushion.

"Go upstairs and take a nap."

I turn my head and look at him, wondering why my parents always told me that, like sleeping was the answer to my boredom. But I know what the answer to my boredom is, it's 3 feet tall with short brown hair, the answer to my boredom is Max. My parents think that because I'm still what society defines as a 'Child', that I need a break from parenting every once in a while, but I don't. For Two years, going on Three, I've never had a break from parenting and nor do I want one; There is no breaks in the definition of Parenting.

"I'm not sleepy . . . I just want Max to come home."

I tell him, letting out a small groan. I was so used to running around the house in games of Hide and Seek, I was so used to picking up every crayon he left scattered on the floor, I was so used to being a Mom, that I stayed in Mommy mode . . . even when Max wasn't here.

"They'll be home in a couple of hours, Sweety. Relax."

My Dad says, patting my head lightly. I know that my boredom will only last for a while, since my Mom and Max are at my Uncle Richards house, but I still miss my Maximillion. My Dad turns his attention back to the TV and shakes his head, grabbing the remote from my lap.

"Sara, he's not here . . . we don't always have to watch Cartoon Movies."

I look at him and he chuckles, pressing the TV guide button on the remote. As he searches through the channels I stare up at the ceiling, waiting for him to find another movie or show. After a couple of minutes, he lets out a small sigh, signaling that he found something to watch. I turn my head to the TV and watch as the woman cuts up a piece of the chicken and tosses it into the oily pan, hearing it sizzle through the speakers.

"That looks good . . ."

My Dad says low, his eyes growing bigger by the second. I giggle and he lets out a soft chuckle, never once tearing his eyes away from the screen. I start to hear a small vibration and my eyes go straight to my phone, resting on the coffee table. I look at the black screen and sigh, of course not.

"Hello?"

I turn my head back around and look at my Dad, watching him listen to the person on his phone.

"What, what happened?"

He says, a small amount of panic filling his voice. He turns his head to me and his eyes grow wide. He stays quiet and look downs to the floor, bringing his hand up to his face. He rubs away the frustration growing inside of his muscles and sighs.

"Alright, we'll be right there."

He presses the End button and shakes his head, making me start to panic now. He lifts his head and looks at me, placing his phone back inside his front pocket.

"Grab your jacket, we have to go."

He says seriously. I eye him and he gets off the couch, standing up straight.

"What happened, where are we going?"

I ask him. He looks at me and lets out another sigh, his eyes making my heart fill with worry.

"Your mother's taking Max to the hospital . . . he fell coming down Ricky's Tree-house."

. . .

I push open the double doors and look around the crowded room, people pacing around, a woman crying; holding her children as they cry too. I look over to the desk in the corner and feel a hand grip my shoulder. I look up and see my Dad, looking towards the desk too. He shoves me gently and I lead us over to the woman sitting behind the chunk of wood. I stop in front of the counter and look at the woman, typing away on her keyboard.

"Excuse me?"

I ask politely. She lifts her head from the screen and looks at me, eyeing my through her thick glasses.

"Can I help you?"

She says, a hint of annoyance in her voice. She must hate her job.

"Yea, my son was brought here, to the ER."

I tell her. She drops her head down and pushes her glasses to the tip of her nose, eyeing me more without the thick lens.

"Your son?"

She asks with disbelief. I eye her and nod my head, my frustration starting to build.

"Yes, my son . . . .now can you tell me what room he's in . . .please."

She looks back down to her computer and hovers her fingers over the keyboard.

"His name?"

"Max Clement."

She starts to type in his name and I look up at my Dad. He looks down at me and pats my back gently, trying to soothe the anger he knows the woman caused.

"He's in the X-Ray room right now, but his room is ER-223."

She says, taking her fingers away from the keyboard and grabbing two blue wrist bands. She takes a sharpie and writes down Max's name, his room number, the date and time. She puts the cap back on the sharpie and grabs the bands, holding them out for us to take. My Dad grabs his and I grab mine, taking off the tape to wrap it around my wrist.

"How old are you?"

I hear the woman ask. I lift my head and find her eyeing me again, her glasses still at the tip of her nose. I ball up my fist and look at her, the hand on my back returning, trying to soothe me again.

"17."

I answer. She sighs and shakes her head, waving us away. For once, I wasn't in the mood to start a fight with someone about my age, I just wanted to see my son. I start to walk away, when I feel my Dads hand return to my shoulder, gripping my shirt lightly but keeping me in place. I turn around and see him standing in front of the counter still, looking at the woman.

"Excuse me, Ma'am?"

He says. The woman stops typing and looks up, eyeing him sharply.

"Yes?"

She says, clearly annoyed now by our presence now.

"I just want to let you know, that you're very rude."

He says. My eyes grow wide as I look at the woman, she looks shocked. In my family, it was my Mom who called people out on their lack of manners, she's the woman at the restaurant who reports the slightly rude waiter. My Dad was the calmer of the family, he didn't like to make scenes, nor did he like to deal with confrontation . . . it just wasn't his style.

"Excuse me, sir?"

She asks, taking off her glasses and setting them down on her desk. I reach out and grab my Dad's sleeve, taking on his role as the calmer and tugging on the material. He ignores my gesture and nods his head to her.

"You're very rude. You know nothing about my daughter except her age, yet you sit here and judge her without any shame?"

She looks over to me and I let go of my Dad's sleeve, wanting to hear her answer. Sometimes I wonder what people will say when they're caught judging me, their answers meaning nothing . . . but still stinging a part of me. I know I shouldn't care what people say or think, but let's be real, everyone does. No matter how many times you tell yourself that nobodies opinion matters, deep down inside, every single comment and every single insult hits you hard. We're not made of Stone, nor are we made of Metal, but even stone shatters at some point, and soon Metal starts to rust, even the strongest things had soft spots. My soft spot isn't what people think of me, it's what they see of me, how they feel I present myself in their eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sir, but I do know that it's you who should be ashamed, not me."

I look back at my Dad and my eyes start to water, that's how she see's me . . . as a girl who was raised wrong by her parents because she got pregnant at a young age. That was everyone's view of me.

"Dad!"

He turns his head and looks at me, staring into my glossy eyes. I shake my head slowly and he looks back at the woman, eyeing her with such disgust. I know my Dad could sit here all day and scold her, but was I willing to sit here all day and watch? Not only that, but why should we have to explain ourselves to people? And even if we did, they would still judge us, there was no winning, so why even try?

"Let's just go . . . I wanna be with Max."

He shakes his head at the woman and turns away, walking back to me. He stops in front of me and looks into my eyes, seeing them flooded with water. He leans down and places his lips on my forehead, making me close my eyes. He pulls away and I open them, looking back into his, he smiles weakly and I can't help but send him back the same smile.

"Let's go . . . your mother said Max was crying for you."

I nod, feeling my heart-break as I imagine Max on the floor, crying for me to help him. The familiar Fear starts to sink in as I realize that . . . I wasn't there to help him. When my mom told me about this Fear, I didn't exactly understand it at first, but after three years of worrying, this Fear has become so familiar to me. It's the worst feeling you could ever feel as a parent, and it Never Goes Away. . . I worry about Max every second of the day.

I stay in front of him as we walk over to the sliding doors, passing through them and into the ER waiting room. My Dad taps my shoulder and I turn my head around, looking at him.

"Tell him Papa's going to take him out for ice cream tonight."

Tegan POV:

"Ready?"

I ask, looking at my Mom. She lifts her head and looks at me, her hands freezing inside her purse.

"Yea . . . I just- . . . have you seen my cell phone?"

She asks, looking around the room, her hands moving around in her purse again. I look around at the places I know my Mom always leaves her cell phone at and sigh, finding it right on top of the Chimney Counter Top.

"Mom, it's on the counter."

She looks over to the counter and lets out a frustrated groan. I chuckle and she stands up, putting her purse over her shoulder and walking to the Counter. She grabs her phone and tosses it inside her purse, not even checking for any missed calls.

"Okay, I'm ready."

She says, stopping in front of me. I nod and turn around walking to the front door, opening it up. I hear the door slam shut as I walk to my car in the drive-way. I get to my door and pull out my keys, unlocking the doors for us. We both climb in and I start the car, turning on my lights for the night. I place my hand on the gear and my mother swats it away.

"Put your seat belt on."

. . .

We walk into Rite-Aid and I look around the store, noticing the small remodeling changes they made to the building. I look at my Mom and watch as her eyes skim around the room.

"There it is."

She says, lifting up her arm and pointing to the left of me. I turn my head and see the Ice Cream corner, a couple of people crowded around it. My lips start to curl as I remember the last time I bought Ice Cream from here. The day before Lilian passed away, I brought her here for Ice Cream. I got Pistachio . . . she got Rainbow Sherbet. My smile starts to fade as the guilt rushes in again, even the littlest things killed me.

"Mom, I'm not in the mood for Ice Cream anymore . . ."

My mom turns and looks at me, a confused look on her face.

"What? You're the one who suggested that we come, Tegan."

I sigh and turn my head back to the crowd of people, closing my eyes for a quick second as I picture Lilian . . . standing on her tip-toes, trying to see all the flavors of Ice Cream. I feel my eyes start to sting and I open them, not wanting to cry in front of my Mom . . . especially in front of her.

"I know, but - I just want something else now . . . maybe some candy."

I look at my Mom and she sighs, shrugging her shoulders at me.

"Alright . . . I'm still getting Ice Cream though, meet me back here so I can pay for your food."

I nod and she walks passed me, making her way to the Ice Cream Corner. I take in a deep breath and start to walk towards the aisles, wondering if they moved the snack aisle when they remodeled. I walk up to the first aisle, seeing nothing but beauty products and make-up accessories. I groan and walk over to the next aisle, turning my head to look at the shelf's My lips begin to curl as I see the packaged goods stacked on the shelf's and the small little candy bags hanging on the wall. I turn into the aisle and make my way to the Candy, my taste-buds suddenly yearning for a package of Gummy Worms. Lilian's Favorite.

I stop in the middle of the aisle and look at the selection of Candy Bags, taking my time to read each label and Candy title. After a couple of seconds, my eyes grow wide with excitement as I see the bag of Gummy Worms. I reach out and grab it, turning it around to look at the Nutrition Facts Label.

"Excuse me?"

I hear a soft sweet voice say. I lift my head from the Candy bag and turn it to the right, my heart stopping at the face in front of me. It was a girl the voice belonged to, a girl with shoulder-length brown locks, smooth pale skin, plump peach-colored lips, and captivating warm brown eyes. I have never seen a more beautiful face in my life, and with her skin glowing under the fluorescent store lights, It might be impossible for me to look away.

"Excuse me?"

She says again, I snap out of my gaze and take in a deep breath, trailing my eyes back to hers. She looks straight into mine and I feel my nerves begin to swim around underneath my skin. God she's so beautiful . . . Say Something!

"Uh, yea?"

I say nervously. Her lips start to curl into a small smile and my eyes linger on her lips, watching them rise slowly.

"Do you mind if I grab something really quick?"

I watch her lips say. I bring my eyes back up to hers and she chuckles softly, raising one eyebrow up high. I snap out of my trance again and start to scold myself mentally. Why are you being such a fucking goon, she probably thinks you're a freak now!

"Oh, sorry."

I say, taking a small step back, giving her room to stand in front of me. She smiles sweetly and takes another step towards me, turning her head to the side and looking at the hanging Candy Bags. I stare at her as her eyes skim all of the bags, her lashes lightly batting each time she blinks.

Seriously? You don't even know her, Tegan.

"Oh Man, the don't have any more Gummy Worms . . ."

She says. My heart drops and I look down to the bag in my hand, the last package of Gummy Worms resting in my palm.

"Here."

I say, lifting my head and looking at her. She turns to me and eyes me, a confused look plastered on her face.

"What?"

She says sweetly. I feel a small amount of nervousness sink its way back down to my bones as she tilts her head to the side shyly. I never get this way around other girls . . . Why am I getting this way about her? I don't even fucking know her . . . but she is beautiful.

"Take mine."

I tell her, lifting up my hand to show her the bag. She looks down to the bag and reads the title slowly, her head beginning to shake from side to side.

"Oh, no . . . that's fine."

She says, lifting her head back up and looking at me.

"No, take it really. I shouldn't be eating them anyway."

I tell her. She cocks her head to the side and starts to smile, making me smile more.

"Are you sure?"

She asks. I nod slowly and she chuckles once more, my ears already knowing that sound by heart now. She looks down to the bag and lifts her hand up, grabbing it from my palm and looking back up at me.

"I'm gonna take them . . . but do you mind if I ask, why you shouldn't eat them?"

She says softly. I take in a deep breath and bring one of my hands to the back of my head, lightly messing with my loose pony-tail, embarrassed to say why.

"Uh, Athletes Diet."

I tell her. She looks down to the bag in her hand and starts to laugh, making my heart swell in my chest. That was so adorable. She lifts her head back up and looks at me, another smile forming on her lips.

"I don't think you need to Diet . . . but thank you."

She says nicely. I smile and let my hand drop down to my side. I open my mouth to tell her You're welcome, when I feel my phone start to vibrate in the front pocket of my Nike Sweats. The loud ringing starts to play and I sigh, reaching down into my front pocket and pulling out my cell phone. I bring it up to my face and see my Mom's image on the screen, smiling at me.

"Well, I better go . . . thank you again."

I hear the girl say softly. I lift my head to look at her, but see her body already turned around, walking back down the aisle. I look down to her ankles and slowly skim my way up, taking in her thick curvy legs, hugged by her tight denim jeans, her perfectly shaped butt swaying from to side to side, her t-shirt covered back; showing her breathtaking hour-glass shape . . .

My phone stops ringing and the small chime notifying my of a missed call dings. I sigh and look down at my screen, watching it fade back to black. I lift my head up again, trying to see if I can get one last look at the girl before she leaves, and spot her by the Cash register, with a tall-large man, and a small little boy with a blue cast on his right arm. I smile as I see the girl turn to the little boy and hold out the package of Gummy Worms to him. They were for her little brother.

I start to smile and feel my phone begin to vibrate again. I look down and see my Moms face again, feeling slightly annoyed that she keeps interrupting my view. I slide the lock to the side and bring my phone up to my ear.

"What, Ma?"

I ask, lifting my head back up to catch one last look at the girl, but find no one in front of the cash register.

"I've been waiting for 20 minutes, will you hurry up?"

She says, the sound of frustration laced in her voice.

"Okay."

I say low, pulling the phone away from my ear and pressing the End button. I lift my head back up and look at the empty cash register, where her body once was and sigh.

"Who are you?"