A/N: This chapter is a bit on the shorter side, but I feel like you all are really going to enjoy it :D This basically wraps up the second part of the story, and really begins to close some big plot lines for James, Carlos and Logan.
And of course, here is a wonderful snippet from waterwicca, from Past The Sorrow :D Which you all have to read!
Kendall waited anxiously outside of the high school on the main sidewalk, looking from left to right every other second. The bell for first period had rung twenty minutes earlier, but he wasn't giving up. He would wait for her all day if he had to…
He wanted to go find Sage, even if it meant going to her house, but his mother made him promise not to do it. Karen had told him it was okay for Sage to be at their home whenever she could, even through the night, as long as Kendall's door stayed open. However, she wouldn't let her son go anywhere near the Henderson's house after Officer Taylor's threat of a restraining order.
Kendall's neck started to hurt, but he kept looking from side to side, mentally willing Sage to show up. Even though she was late, he had to believe she would come to school. She new that's where he'd be, and Elliot would be stupid to cause suspicion and not let her go.
"Sage," Kendall breathed her name shakily as she finally rounded the corner.
The blonde girl approached him, her pace substantially slower than normal. She was favoring one side of her body and limping so slightly that, if you weren't looking carefully, you would have missed it. Kendall sprinted to close the gap between them. Once he was right in front of her, he could tell she was wearing makeup, and he knew she had bruises without even being able to see them. Tears flowed from both of their eyes as they stared at one another. He wanted to hold her, but he thought he would hurt her battered body more.
"Kendall…" she cried and whispered his name, taking the initiative by launching herself into his strong arms.
He didn't hesitate to hold her once he felt Sage against him. She winced as his body slid against her ribs, but she only squeezed him tighter and ignored the pain because she needed Kendall so much more than relief.
"It's going to be alright, baby. Everything is going to be okay…" Kendall reassured her sweetly, both of them crying freely.
He didn't know if it was a false promise or not, but Kendall was going to do anything humanly possible to keep it.
Yup, you know you want to read, so why not just do it?
It'd make my life if you all read and reviewed. We are more than halfway done, and I'd really LOVE to break 500 reviews :D It's make my life!
I don't own anything except for Stella, and other OC'S.
Chapter Twenty-Two: Lessons Learned
James sat at the dinner table with his family, and everything was oddly quiet, something the Diamond family dinner table never was. He hadn't noticed how sad, and worried his parents were since the news broke out nearly a three days ago. After a long discussion with James, and Kim, Lucie and Jason had decided that James was allowed to go to Hollywood with Kendall and Kim.
James sat there, slowly and aimlessly stirring his French onion soup, looking up at his parents' worried eyes. He had never seen his mother so quiet, and concerned in his entire life, and his father seemed irked by the whole situation, even though both were truly supportive of his dreams, like they always had been.
James also figured it was quiet, seeing as tonight was his last night home. He was all packed to leave for California in the morning. He had spent all day home from school, as had the other boys, packing away the better part of his life into endless amounts of duffels. Seeing as after the three months, if this all worked out, James would come back to Minnesota to get the rest of his belongings; he only needed a small portion of them now. Lucie had been all cheery and helpful, even enthusing James about the whole trip even more as they packed, but after they were done, and Lucie stared around her son's almost empty room with a sad demeanor, the clutch on James' shoulder getting tighter with each second.
"Why are you guys so quiet? It's kind of freaking me out," James chuckled out, his eyes going from his mother's face, to his father's. Lucie smiled at her son and shook her head, biting her brightly glossed lower lip, her eyes watering up with a bit of tears.
"It's your last night home, brune. We are just a little sad, that is all," Lucie spoke sweetly, swallowing hard and smiling at Jason, who gripped her hand tightly. Jason nodded affirmatively, adjusting his thick black glasses awkwardly, smiling at James.
"We are proud of you, James. We want you to live your dream, it's just that we are going to miss you very much," Jason said stately with a small half-smile. James looked up at his parents very confused. I mean he figured they were going to miss him, but to see them both so sullen when they were always kissing, and hugging and laughing with each other made James feel relatively uncomfortable.
"Well, I'll miss you guys too," James said with a half-smile, scraping his spoon against his bowl, trying to somehow fill the awkward silence that hung in the large dining room, bouncing off every painting, plant or chair that decorated the light blue walls. "A lot."
James sighed looking down, running a hand through his hair nervously. He never had really taken into consideration how much he was going to miss his family. He was going to miss seeing his father come home from work and shower his mother with kisses, and having dinner on the table right after he finished all his homework, or most of it anyhow. In that moment, a cold, bitter chill wiped over James' entire warm, excited body as his stomach did tumbles, and his mouth got dry. He had never felt so unsure about anything in that moment, as he did now, remembering all the little things that made his family truly his. It sickened James, and Lucie and Jason saw the turmoil explode in James' irises like blood in water.
"I'm—I'm not hungry," James said abruptly, immediately pushing himself from the table, pushing his chair back in and grabbing his half eaten bowl of soup. He hurriedly walked across the floor, his Converse squeaking on the wood paneling as he quickly made his way into the kitchen, his hands a bit shaky.
James truly had no idea what was coming over him in this moment, but suddenly, it was as if his mind was telling him "No. Don't go to Hollywood. Stay here." Putting his bowl and spoon in the titanium sink with a loud clash, James fearfully leaned against the granite countertop, crossing his arms over his rising and falling chest, his head hung, trying to clear his mind. He had wanted something like this for so long, and his parents were even fully supportive of it, something that James had never really appreciated. He breathed out slowly, trying to get the small voice in his head to tell him to keep his cool. The past few days, he had been noticing his parent's interactions more than ever, and with each passing moment, the realization he was leaving became more real, and the admiration for them became deeper.
James Diamond was born a star. His love of acting had begun from the time he could even talk, Lucie and Jason videotaping their young son who was always singing, laughing and smiling, whether he was three or thirteen. James first real experience in theater was in kindergarten, when he had gotten the quite prestigious, at the time, role of the tree, in which all the leaves fell under…leaves being other students of course. James' journey in theater continued throughout elementary school, and well into middle school, where he truly blossomed. He had joined the regular choir in sixth grade, and then had been allowed to join the chamber choir a year later, an honor only usually bestowed upon by eighth grade students. James' musical and theatrical talent had specifically shined the past two years, obtaining two lead roles as the Lion in the Wizard of Oz freshmen year, as well as Professor Harold Hill in this year's production of the Music Man. James put his entire heart and soul into his performances, and had been recognized by all of Duluth High as somewhat of a star in the making.
As he contemplated his past dreams, and decisions, James had never felt so vulnerable in his entire life. He had always expected stardom, fame and fortune to come somewhere down the road, but so suddenly? James had only turned sixteen months ago, and now here he was, getting shipped off to California, to possibly become one of the nation's hottest and most talented singing groups that this millennium had seen. While totally enthralled with the idea of living his dream, the second he had found out about it, his mind instantly went to the photo album he had looked at with his mother weeks back.
Love versus dreams.
An inner conflict James though he would never nearly even touch upon on his journey to the top.
It wasn't like James' love for his parents was going to keep him in Duluth, Minnesota his entire life. He had known that from the time that he was fourteen that he was going to leave eventually, whether it be a big break like this, or to go to a prestigious acting school on the west coast. However, what James wasn't expecting was doubt to sneak up on him, rudely distorting the vision that existed in his pretty little head the past ten years. He hadn't expected to feel this upset, or this guilty for following his dreams. It killed him.
"James?" Lucie asked softly, coming into the kitchen quite concerned. Her eyes locked on James, leaning against the counter, pushing his silky chestnut bangs back up onto the top of his head, his breathing deep and conscious. Lucie's heels clicked against the linoleum floor, making her way over to her son who looked more than confused. She gently reached out and touched his arm, causing James to look up right at her with a straight face on. "You okay, brune?" she asked him softly, smacking her perfectly pink glossed lips at the end of her words.
"I'm fine, I'm—I'm just gonna miss you guys, that's all," James said in an annoyed voice, scathing away from his mother's touch as if it were venomous, walking to the other side of the kitchen with a twisted face. He didn't want anyone to see his doubt, especially not his parents. If anyone ever found out that James' had even for a minute second guessed his fame and fortune over his attachment to his family, well, it wouldn't be the James Diamond they had known.
"We'll miss you too, baby. Me and your father," Lucie spoke softly, turning on one heel, walking over to her son with a concerned look on her face. James sighed and sat down at the glass table in the kitchen, his eyes being bored in by the stark white walls, locked on the family portrait he stared at in front of him. He tapped his fingers on the table anxiously, and sighed. Lucie walked over to him slowly, and sat down next to him, immediately taking her hand in his with a small, sympathetic smile.
"Are you scared?" she asked. James looked at her quickly and scoffed a bit, immediately putting up his wall of defense which his mother had already broken through.
"I'm not scared. I'm excited," he shot back angrily, not looking his mother in the eyes. "I don't get scared, are you kidding?" he joked. Lucie smiled and nodded, James' front not even fooling the wise woman for a moment. She sighed and stroked his hand gently, knowing her son like the back of her hand.
"James, you are one of a kind, you always have been," Lucie chuckled out, James' eyes going back to her with a small smile at his mother's kind words. "But you can't expect yourself to be fearless, brune. It's not possible to have no fear," she said. James looked at her a bit disappointed at how she had figured him out, although he wasn't very surprised. He looked at her with an expressionless face, all his fear, angst and excitement twisting up into one big ball of emotion, about to finally be released.
"Everybody here loves me, ma. What if—what if it's nothing like that in Los Angeles?" he asked her, his voice tightening. James' eyes immediately got wide at the words that had been spoken from his mouth, beyond his control. Love. Did he really just say that? Since when did James Diamond care about love, and what people thought of him? He had always been the strong, sexy, player that walked through Duluth High's halls with a different girl on his arm each week. Never was James dependent on any sorta of love, whether it was between him and a girl, or between him and his parents. James stayed silent as he looked up at his mother clueless, and totally astonished at what he had said to her.
"I will always love you, and so will your father, remember that, baby," Lucie said affectionately, staring at her son's now unconfident, worried hazel eyes. James nodded and smiled, trying to regain any sort of strength within the conversation, but all was hopeless when with his mother. "And if I remember correctly, wasn't it you who told me that I should've gone after my own my dreams, instead of marrying dad, and having you?" she asked with a perfectly groomed eyebrow raising up with a smile. James chuckled and nodded, feeling foolish for his words, and how selfish he had been in that moment.
"I guess—I guess I never really realized, until it was in front of me," he said lowly, taking all responsibility for his former words. "I mean, I'm having all these doubts about leaving you and dad, and…and I can't even imagine what you felt like when you found out you were having me, and you had to choose," James admitted with an astonished chuckle.
Lucie nodded, leaned in and kissed her son's forehead, allowing her hand to cup his soft, tan skin gently. She pulled her lips away, making sure not to leave a gloss mark, with a smile. "You're growing up well, James. Don't stop, alright?"
James chuckled and sighed deeply, biting his lower lip with a small smile. "I won't, I promise, maman," James whispered affectionately, causing Lucie's face to light up with the intensity of a thousand suns. James hadn't used that nickname for her in such a long while, perhaps even ten years. It was something that Lucie had taught her son to call her with joy, feeling that her true French culture should be somewhat expressed through her only child, besides the usual fashion and food of her native country. Bringing home French bread, and French loafers for James when Lucie visited her parents in France in the summer each year was something materialistic between the two of them, and nothing like the affectionate exchange of names between mother and son. Lucie had been calling James brune since the moment she had laid eyes on him, and she wasn't about to stop just because he was sixteen.
"You haven't called me that in years, brune," Lucie chuckled out, gently taking her hand and sweeping James' wispy brown bangs from his forehead, the boy not minding one bit of his mother's warmth towards him, in the last few hours he'd be at home.
"I figured it was appropriate," James chuckled out, looking up at his mother with bright eyes. Lucie sighed deeply, and looked at her son lovingly and longingly, soaking up every last minute of their time together before he went to live his dream.
"I'm proud of you, James. Me and your father both, and we believe in you three hundred percent," she smiled at him, the small wrinkles at the corner of her eyes turning up, as well as the ones by her mouth. "And we can't wait to see you succeed."
James took one last deep breath, about to get the last, aching thing off the bottom of his chest. "Mom, do you think…I'm wrong for going out there? And leaving my family here?" James asked. Lucie did nothing, but smile at her son's newfound appreciation for the decision she had made nearly seventeen years ago.
"You aren't me, James. I know you won't let love hold you back, even though it held me back. Having you, and marrying your father was the best thing for me. Going to California is the best thing for you. And don't ever think that you are doing the wrong thing by going out there," she said with a smile. "But it makes me so happy, that now, you can understand my choice," she spoke.
James looked at her a bit confused, his hand playing with the beautiful platinum of her wedding band and engagement ring. "Well your choice was a different kind of love," he told her adamantly, defending his position once again. Lucie shook her head no with wise eyes, and a smirking smile.
"Love is love, brune. That's all there is to it."
Carlos Garcia was one of those kids who just sorta floated through life.
While still academically smart, as well as very involved in school spirit and Student Council, Carlos really had no clue what he wanted to do when he got out of high school. Granted he had two years to make a decision, however, James knew he wanted to be famous, Logan had already been planning to make some road trips to colleges with pre-med programs in the summer, and Kendall was working towards a hockey scholarship.
Carlos however, just lived. He had no real plans for what he wanted to do in the future…well, until now.
Marta and Carlos were in his room, with two, large hockey duffels on the bed, as well as piles of folded clothes all over the room. It was nearly eight o' clock and Marta and Carlos had been packing since before dinner, taking a quick break to get some Chinese take-out around five.
When Carlos had proposed this whole idea of moving across the country to make a living, singing and dancing, he had figured she'd be totally skeptical of it, however, Marta was the complete opposite. Right from the start, she had been supportive. While it hadn't been Carlos' dream like it was James' or the big opportunity he had been given like Kendall, he was still completely enthusiastic about it, especially since it involved his three brothers. After talking it over with Peter, without any screaming or fighting, Marta had told Carlos he'd be allowed to go, after talking it over with Mrs. Knight of course. While her son was not a singer, he definitely had some Latino fire in his dance steps, and seeing as this was a three month trial could end up with Carlos either returning to her, or living out in California, making something of himself that he hadn't even expected. Carlos had been so good to Marta since the divorce, and to hold him back for herself, well, it just wasn't logical in her head.
"Where did you put all my new shorts?" Carlos asked his mother confusedly, looking around the room with wide, excited eyes.
"Right by your helmet, mijo," she said folding up a shirt, motioning her chin to the pillows of the bed. Carlos located the pile of denim and khaki shorts he had just bought, the tags still on, and gently placed them in the duffel next to his socks and boxers. The boy sighed, as his eyes scanned the bed, looking at the swimsuits, sweatshirts, short-sleeved shirts and everything else he had to pack for this excursion. To say that Carlos was nervous wouldn't really justify his feelings. He was of course nervous, but more excited than anything. He had never really figured out what to do with his life, and whether he felt like this was fate, or just a push in the right direction, Carlos was definitely taking it, no questions asked. In fear of somehow forgetting it, Carlos immediately put his helmet in his bag, his hands touching the smooth plastic on the outside of it, his reflection staring back at him in the black plastic.
"Getting' excited?" Marta asked her son with a smile, folding yet another shirt. Carlos chuckled bashfully and looked up at his mom shrugging.
"I guess," he trailed off. Marta's brow furrowed and she looked at Carlos confused, setting down the purple polo with the other folded shirts.
"You guess?" Marta asked surprised with a small laugh. Carlos sighed, and went over to his mother who sat on his bed, and he sat beside her with a small smile, looking into her eyes deeply.
"I'm just gonna miss you, that's all," Carlos said with a sympathetic grin. Marta smiled and sighed loudly, a closed lipped smile on her tan face. Of course Carlos was going to miss her.
"Oh mijo, I will miss you too," she chuckled, immediately wrapping her arms around her only son, and kissing his temple. Carlos snuggled into his mother a bit more and she sighed. "But this is a great opportunity for you Carlos, and you need to go after what you are dreaming of, don't let me hold you back," Marta said. Carlos nodded in agreeance, trying his hardest not to let emotions get the best of him, preparing himself for the long road ahead.
"I know," he said softly, as Marta released him and looked in his eyes.
"And I'm very proud of you for doing this," she added on. Carlos sighed and rolled his eyes, hearing that come out of his mother's mouth more than a hundred times since she had first told him.
"Yes, mom, I know," he dragged on, getting up from his seat on the bed, and walking around to finish packing. Marta continued folding a shirt, as the doorbell of the house rang with a chortling "ding dong". Carlos looked up in the direction of the door, and his face was furrowed.
"Who is that?" Carlos asked his mom, totally confused. Marta smiled simply, and said nothing as she got up from the bed, and walked out of the room. Carlos, who became increasingly suspicious, followed her out of the room, a pair of shorts still in his hand. He watched as his mother opened the door, and she smiled at the person who was on the other side. Carlos stepped out into the living room, and saw his mother politely nod and open the door wider, allowing the person to come into his house.
"Thank you, Marta," he heard a voice say. But not just any voice. His father's voice. Marta closed the door behind his father, and Carlos looked up just a few feet away from him, in total confusion and awe.
Peter Garcia stood about 6'0'', with dark, short black hair, dark Spanish skin, and a bit of stubble on his slightly wrinkled face. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, and he had a bright orange sweater on, with a white wifebeater on underneath. Carlos wasn't scared, or nervous. Just surprised. The last time his father was here, a nasty fight had ensued between Marta and Peter, one that brought back all of Carlos' horrible memories.
"Hey, Carlitos," Peter said a bit awkwardly, clearing his throat. Carlos smiled a bit at his dad's friendly demeanor and crinkled the freshly ironed shirt in his hands out of a small anxiousness he was feeling.
"Hey dad," he said, taking a few more steps toward him, as Marta looked on with a small smile, but a bit of concern soaked up into her beautiful brown eyes and soft pink lips.
"I'm gonna go finish up what I was packing, mijo," Marta spoke out softly, coming over to Carlos. She smiled and gently kissed his head, whispering a light, relaxing comment in his ear, before slipping away down the hallway, back to Carlos' room. Peter smiled at his son, proud as could be.
"Uh, do you want something to drink, dad?" Carlos asked confused, wondering how he should go about the interaction.
"No, it's okay, I'm fine," Peter said softly. Carlos nodded and swallowed hard, looking at the shirt in his hands. He never understood why talking to his father always started off so hard. It wasn't like he hated his father, he never could. Even during the February break, when Carlos was spending a few days with him, it never ended bad, it just started off bad. Every time Carlos first saw Peter, he imagined him angry, and yelling at him and his mother. It hurt the boy that he thought of the man he used to be so infatuated with could ever be looked at that way, but it was what happened, and Carlos didn't have a choice. He figured his father was here to say good-bye to him, and was wondering what was escalate during their talk.
"I guess you-uh, came to say good-bye?" Carlos asked him awkwardly, throwing the now totally wrinkled shirt over to the couch to the left of him. Peter chuckled and took another step towards him, nodding.
"Well you didn't think I was gonna let my boy leave for LA without me saying good-bye, did you?" Peter chuckled. Carlos smiled bashfully, and slowly walked over to the couch, motioning for Peter to follow him. Carlos sat down on the sofa and sighed as Peter sat next to him with a similar sigh, both catching the similarity and laughing quietly. Peter sighed and sat upright, turning his body to look at his son.
"Sorry I haven't really called lately, Carlos. Work has been busy," Peter said, immediately feeling guilty in his son's impeccable presence. Carlos nodded, looking down. It was true, Peter hadn't really called him in a while, and Carlos had started to notice. But he knew that his father worked crazy hours, and that he had a crazy job. Carlos also knew that his father loved him, and always had the best intentions for their relationship. As the time went on, Carlos had begun to realize certain things about his parents that made him understand more and more about their complicated relationship. Carlos found it as an awakening, while Marta just called it "growing up".
"I'm gonna miss you when you are in LA, mijo," Peter said with a sad chuckle at the end of his sentence. "I hope you still know I'm gonna call you a lot, probably even more that you'll be halfway across the country," he chortled. Carlos smiled at his dad's laughter, and the way he smiled at him.
"I know, and I'll call you too, dad. Don't worry about it, we'll stay in touch, I promise," Carlos boasted brightly, starting to ease into the comfort with his father a lot more easily than he had last time he saw him. Peter nodded and sighed deeply, looking at his son's dark brown eyes and smiling.
"You know, I told everyone at the precient that my son was going to LA to be famous, and all their kids are doing are winning science fairs, and bringing home A papers," Peter said with a smile, causing Carlos to bashfully look down, his father's pride beaming into him like a rocket.
"Glad to see you are proud of me," Carlos chuckled out a bit embarrassed, as Peter immediately rested a hand on his son's broad shoulder and smiled.
"I am very proud of you, Carlos. And I know you'll do good out there," he said stately, nodding his head confidently at the boy. Carlos smiled widely, looking up at his father with bright eyes, and a young face.
"Thanks, dad. It means a lot," he returned to the man happily. Peter nodded and looked at his son, sensing a bit of fear, and doubt in his dark brown eyes. Even though Peter wasn't around that much in Carlos' life, when the boy had an ailment, or something was bothering him, he was able to tell. It was a father's gift, and he knew something was troubling Carlos.
"What's wrong, my boy?" Peter asked. Carlos sighed deeply, and turned his head to the hallway, in which his mom was folding the rest of his things. Carlos looked back at Peter with a sad, twisted smile. He couldn't talk to his mother about this, because he knew she would just put on a front, and no real answer would come out of their conversation. His father was not the perfect person to talk about this with, but it was his only option. He was leaving tomorrow, and this was his last resort.
"I'm leaving Mami alone when I go," Carlos said sadly, looking up into his father's eyes trying his best to keep his composure, and not get emotional.
It was less of Carlos missing his mother, and more of Carlos' concern to protect his mother, seeing as he had been the man of the house for so many years. "I'm so used to protecting her, and being the man in the house, but when I leave, she'll be all alone," Carlos spoke. He didn't realize the words that came out of his mouth, and how much his father's face changed when he said them. While Peter had known that he had done things wrong to Marta and Carlos, he never stopped loving his son, and for Carlos to outright say he was the man of the house, like Peter had never been there in the first place, it hurt. Peter was silent and Carlos looked at him, noticing what he had said had hurt his father.
"I—I didn't mean it like that, dad, I'm so—" but Carlos was cut off.
"No. You are right, Carlos," Peter said softly. "You have been the man of the house since I left. You have been protecting your mother all along, and I am so proud of you for that," he said truthfully, examining his own mistakes that he had made in the past. "It shows that you are the kind of man, that I am not," Peter said, nodding his head. Carlos sighed and closed his eyes feeling horrible.
"I didn't mean that you weren't a protector, I—" but Peter cut him off again. He rearranged himself on the couch and looked at his son.
"Look at you, Carlos. You will be sixteen soon, a true man, and yet you have been a man all along," he said, Carlos smiling. "I have made mistakes with you, and your mother. While your mother and I's love fizzled out, I shouldn't have acted the way I did towards her, and towards you. I'm only learning now, after seeing how great you are, that most of your mother's arguments for the way to raise you, were correct. She has raised you into a fine boy, son, and I give her all the credit in the world for that," Peter said. Carlos looked up at his dad in awe, at the things coming from his mouth. "I know now, that when I used to yell, and scream, that it wasn't getting things anywhere, and it was effectively scaring you, mijo," Peter said with a pause. He sighed deeply and looked at Carlos again. "I'm only now realizing that what I did was wrong, son. And I know the apology is coming late and out of the blue for so many years, but I'm finally able to take responsibility for my actions. And I just wanted you to know, that even though I am not in love with your mom anymore, that I respect her, and all her decisions. I have already spoken with her, but now, I am telling you," he said. Carlos nodded silently, looking up at his father with an indescribable expression. "She will miss you, Carlos, but do not think you are leaving her the way I did."
Carlos said nothing as his father finished his speech. He didn't know if the was emotion and regret in his father's voice, the fact that he was nervous about this entire singing thing, or the fact that he was exhausted, but he began to cry. Small tears leaked from his eyes, and his lower lip quivered as Peter immediately wrapped his arms around his son and held him tight. He kissed his hair gently, and held him tensely, both father and son silent, as Marta looked on from the hallway, tears down her cheeks, and a smile on her face.
"Sweetheart, can I come in?" Kelly asked her son, knocking on the white wooden door of his room.
"Yeah," Logan said stoically. Kelly opened the door, and saw Logan neatly packing his needed clothes into his huge hockey duffel. The boy had an upset, edgy expression on his face, as he packed his neatly-stacked clothes all over his room, into the duffel as if he were some kind of machine. Kelly leaned against the doorframe with a sad expression on her face, watching him, not bothering to respond to her presence.
"You need any help packing?" Kelly asked timidly, running her hand through her limp, dark brown hair, dark eyes fixed on her son.
"Nope, I got it," Logan said quietly, continuing to put his matched socks in the side compartment of the duffel. Kelly walked in the room more, nestling herself on Logan's bed, watching as he totally ignored her in his room, carrying on his packing quite concentrated.
"I talked to your father today, Logan," Kelly said. Logan, whose back was towards Kelly at his dresser, stopped his movements, stood up straight and turned around looking back at her with a confused, upset expression on her face.
"Why? Why would you want to talk to him?" Logan asked upset and angry, stuffing some sweatshirts into his bag quite violently. The way Logan laced the word him with venom was enough to send shudders up anyone's back. Kelly sighed, knowing this was going to be hard for him to understand.
"Well, he knows that you are leaving tomorrow morning, and he wanted to see if he could come over and say good-bye," Kelly said softly, watching as Logan went back to his dresser, angrily grabbed a pair of jeans from his bottom drawer, and slammed it shut, making even Kelly jump.
"I don't even know how to respond to that," Logan chuckled out sarcastically, throwing the jeans in his bag carelessly. He stood in front of his mother with an annoyed, upset face. "You shouldn't even be talking to him, mom. He left us…we were second on his list, and—and I don't want anything to do with him, ever again," Logan said, putting his hands on his hips, his heart racing from his anger.
"I know you are mad and upset sweetheart, and I am too, believe me, but—" Kelly began to say, but Logan fiercely interjected her thoughts with a rant of pure anger and rage.
"There are no buts, mom, alright? I looked up to dad like he was the best person in the world, especially after Mr. Knight died, and—and he acted like a second father to Kendall when he needed him the few months after the accident. I loved him like he was the only person who understood me, the only person I could talk to about everything, the only person that would always love me no matter what, and now…now I find out it was all just a lie! You know what Kendall said, huh?" he asked his mother in wicked rage. Kelly's face was twisted with fear and helplessness as Logan continued his rant. "He said that Dad said "He owed the trip to me"," Logan cried out, tears coming to his eyes. "Owed it to me? For what? For sneaking around behind our backs for four years, with that fucking whore and her two kids! Never. I never wanna see him again, ever," Logan cried out, tears falling down to collect on his lower lip. His entire body was shaking as he stood in front of his mother, his fists balled up in fury at his sides. "You can call him back, and tell him that I don't need a good-bye from him, that I never will, and that I'm going to life my whole life without him, and get famous without him, and get married without him, instead of being his second choice!" Logan cried out at the door, as if his father was standing there. Kelly immediately stood up and wrapped Logan up in her arms, holding him tightly.
"W-why were we his s-second choice, m-m-mom?" Logan cried into her shirt, his arms shaking, and Kelly's hand rubbing his back soothingly. Tears fell from her eyes as she kissed his raven hair gently, and sighed into him, feeling Logan's broken spirit through his sagging and shaking shoulders.
"I don't know, baby. But you're my first choice, and you always will be, I promise," she whispered in his ear, pulling back from him with a smile on her face. Logan sighed, and looked away from her, Kelly wiping Logan's eyes with a small smile. "I understand if you don't want to see him before you go, I'm not going to make you, but just know that he is proud of you, sweetheart. And that he is sorry, even if you can't see it," Kelly spoke to him. Logan looked in his mother's eyes, worried that she was giving up too easy. He prayed and hoped that while he was gone, his mother wouldn't fall back into the arms of the man she had loved for so many years.
"Please tell me, that he is not coming back here when I leave, mom. Please, tell me you are stronger than that," Logan begged of her, Kelly swallowing hard at her son's mature, responsible, protective words. She was surprised Logan was so adamant about this, but she had to make sure he knew that she was just as angry as he was.
"He's not coming back, don't worry. He's being served divorce papers on Monday, and the proceedings will take place while you are in California," Kelly spoke with a nod, Logan smiling at his mother's strength, and confidence. He touched her hand gently and sighed deeply, catching the last few tears from his eyes.
"What about custody for the next two years?" Logan asked concerned, hoping his mother would fight tooth and nail for full. Kelly sighed deeply and looked in Logan's eyes sadly, knowing what he wanted, but knowing that there was a slim chance she could get full custody. It wasn't like John was a bad father, more so a bad husband, and she couldn't really have a case for why she should get full custody, just because Logan planned on never speaking to his father again.
"I don't know, sweetheart. That's up to the courts," Kelly said, touching Logan's fair skin, smiling at the bit of stubble under his chin, "and besides, you'll be out in California, becoming famous, you won't be here," she said smiling brightly at her son's accomplishments. Logan chuckled, blinking his eyes of a few last tears, and wiping them away before they could be seen, ashamed that he had broken down in front of his mother again. He had to be strong for her, and he didn't want to have to see her cry.
"Let's hope so," he said with a smile. Kelly kissed his forehead with a smile and nodded.
"I know so, believe me. Anything you've ever wanted to do, you've done, Logan. Whether it was winning the science fair, reading chapter books when you are in kindergarten or any of the other amazing things you have done throughout your lifetime, you always succeeded. And I have no doubts about your attempt to succeed here," Kelly said. Logan sighed and smiled, knowing that his mother was right. He had to succeed, and he was going to, with James, Carlos and Kendall right beside him…and without his father whatsoever.
"You really think so?" Logan asked her, his throat dry.
Kelly nodded. "I know so, Logan. You are the smartest, most logical person I have ever met, and that can only help you out in California," Kelly spoke out with a smile. Logan nodded and Kelly bit her lip awkwardly, looking at the broken boy in front of her.
"Are you sure—I'm doing the right thing, mom? I mean…I always wanted to be a doctor, because I was so smart, and I love medicine and helping people—but this…this is just so exciting," Logan spoke out passionately with a small smile on his face. "It's new, and it's not the same old thing that I've been comfortable with all my life. It's—it's change, and…I've never been one for change, but…I-I feel like this is right," Logan said matter-of-factly with a smile on his face, looking back at his mother with a furrowed brow.
Kelly patted the seat on the bed she had taken, and Logan sat down next to her. Kelly put her hand on his shoulder and smiled at him.
"Don't ever just do something, because you feel you are obligated to do it, Logan. That's not how I want you to live life. If you want to do something, like go out to California and take a shot at the big time, you have to do it. Even if you love doing something else, and feel comfortable with it all your life, if you know there is something else you really want, you have to go for it, sweetheart," Kelly spoke out sincerely to her son, making sure he understood. There was a bit of silence as Kelly swallowed hard, choking back tears. "I didn't do that with your father…and look at where I am now," Kelly whispered out sadly.
Logan looked up at her with a sunken heart, and took her hand in his easily, stroking it gently. "It's not too late, mom," Logan spoke out. Kelly smiled and leaned down, kissing her son on the head, and taking in the clean, fresh scent he radiated.
"Not for you, baby."
Stella walked along the long highway, clutching Kendall's cardigan to her shoulders, and shivering. She was without money, without food, and had resorted to eating snow for water. It hadn't gotten this bad in a while, since before she had met Kendall, and there were numerous soup kitchens she had passed without a second thought. Her main objective was clear to her.
She needed to get to Kendall, and she needed to get to him fast.
With each step of her torn, broken boots, more and more snow got in them, sending more chills up her spine as fast paced cars with blinding headlights passed her on the tree lined freeway. She would never hitchhike, knowing that with her luck, she'd get some creepy old pedophile in the car with her, and god knows she wasn't the type of girl who'd do anything for a ride.
She had left Thief River Falls a few days ago, and had been trying her best to make the trip to Duluth on God's good will, hoping that she was going into the right direction. The stars had done their best to lead her at night, and while they protected her to the best of their ability, they weren't Kendall.
Stella dreamt of Kendall every night. Whether it was dreaming about his arms tightly around her body, holding her close, or his sweet kisses on her neck and lips, every single dream, whether sleep or just a nap focused on the blonde boy with the thick eyebrows, and stunning green eyes.
Kendall Knight was the only thing that kept Stella going at this point, and she wanted nothing more than to apologize, and fix their fucked up relationship back to where it was from the first moment they had laid eyes on each other. The pure intensity that had been shared between them, the first kiss, the first time they had made love, when everything was perfect…before Stella messed everything up.
Tears fell out of the girls eyes, looking up at the stars through thick walls of water, as the black sky fell darker, and darker. She instantly picked up her speed, the swish of cars passing her by painfully antagonizing as she did her best to pick her feet up for another step, hoping, and praying Kendall Knight would be happy to see her.
Review PLEASE? :D