Okay, this is the first chapter of the actual story. The first one was an intro deal. Jude has been calling Tommy every day, and he hasn't been answering. This is the first day that she hasn't contacted him. As always, reviews are appreciated. I kind of know where I'm going with this, but if anyone has any ideas they want me to add, tell me. Please. Love you guys!

Disclaimer: I had them, and then I lent them to my friend who lost them, so they currently aren't mine.

I've drafted so many letters to Jude since I left. Dialed her cell number so many times, and listened to her sweet voice carrying the machine onto voicemail. I'm addicted to that voice. I've imagined the feel of her lips pressed up against mine more times than I can count. And I've imagined what that first date with her could have been like if I wasn't called away like that.

Right now, I'm writing yet another song in my down time—though, down time shouldn't exist when you've just discovered that you have a new daughter that you didn't know about for six years. And Sophie is a dream—a beautiful caramel skinned child that I've grown to love in the few months that I've known her. She shares my love of music, and sometimes, after dinner, she comes to sit in my lap and lets me sing to her. But even Sophie can't completely fill the void that was drilled in me when I left Jude and everything else about my old life behind.

A day hasn't passed since I left that Jude hasn't left me a message, or a text, or an email. But I haven't talked to her. Mostly because I don't know what to say. Jude's only seventeen, and I don't want to put my drama about my new kid on her. I'll be damned if I become another thing that forces her to grow up faster than she needs to. Still, though, not communicating with her eats away at me. Sometimes in her messages she cries, so heart wrenching that I can almost feel the tears in my own eyes. Sometimes, she pauses between words, and the line is filled with deep breaths that I wish I could feel again against my lips. Sometimes, she doesn't talk at all. She lets the beep for the message go, and doesn't say anything. On those days, she doesn't have to. Her silence is louder than anything she could possibly say.

Today, though, I look at the clock on the wall, reading nine o'clock, and I realize, half way through the middle of the song that I'm writing and singing, that Jude hasn't called me at all today. Some how, that doesn't sit well with me, and the immaturity of it all makes me really pissed off at myself. Jude doesn't owe me anything. I'm the one that up and left her out of nowhere, and now I'm upset that she's letting go? What kind of person is like that? My kind of person. Because I have been Jude's, completely and wholly Jude's, almost since the day we met. She's never known it, of course. I've lead her around so much since we met, dating her sister, kissing her and telling her to forget it, telling her she's too young for me. But no matter how much I pushed her away, I was still always hers. Jude's man, through and through.

The words are coming out of me now, faster and faster, and I'm afraid my pen won't be able to record them. The guitar comes naturally. The beat is slow, mellow, and mournful, like just about every thing I've written in the past three months.

I'd l reach out to you

Pull you in, and love you

Let you be my everything

But I can't.

Can't burden you that way

Can't do what's not good for you

But I can't forget it

What we could and couldn't have had

What we'll never have now

I think of all the wasted time

Kisses never shared

Adventures never pursued

You monopolize the mind.

Every day I wake up,

Praying I'll see you, feel you next to me.

But the sun rises ,and I'm still alone,

Wishing you were here.

The guitar drops to the ground, and I drop my head into my arms, feeling myself shaking. She didn't call me today. She's forgetting me, but I can't let her go, as much as I need to. I can't forget how much she balanced me out, how different, yet alike we are. It sounds so young minded, but I don't think there's anyone else out there for me but her. But I'm trying to do what's best for her. And what's best for her is focusing on her career, and not my problems.

I'm slipping, my resolve is crumbling, and it's definitely time to get a grip. I promised myself that I wouldn't contact her. Promised myself that I wouldn't bring her into this. But I don't know how much longer I can keep this up.

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