AN: First off, big thanks to everyone who actually emailed me again. Ya'll rock! Glad to know I'm not the only one to find Kevin kinda scary. Oh and a Happy Birthday to Eminem, apparently its the big 30 and I have no idea why I happened across this tidbit of information but, anyway... LOL Oh, another oh! I got kick as tickets to a Goo Goo Doll concert... *happy dance* The Goos rock MY world! hehe Hay, does anyone else think Justin's a jerk? I go in Timberlake phases and right now, I'm in my anti Chia mode. Oh well, it'll pass, and how weird is this? One of my friends is starting to model and its through, here it comes, Lou Peralman's company. Freaky weird... Anyway, enough rambling. Standard disclaimers apply... *********************** The Only Girl: Chapter Five *********************** I’ve always hated Seattle. I hate the rain, the perpetual grayness, the fact that Nick broke up with me that last, awful time there, and that I’m standing at my father’s grave where we buried him not two hours past. I haven’t spoken to my dad in nearly ten years and I have to say that I’m not sad that he passed away without another word spoken between us. He left me and my mom when I was eleven. Walked out. Walked away from my mom, from me. I loved him with everything that I had and it still wasn’t enough, never could have been enough. I used to think I wasn’t perfect enough, or pretty enough, or a thousand other little things that kept me up at night, crying and crying until my pillows were soaked. It took me a long time to realize that it was my dad who wasn’t good enough instead of the other way around. Took me longer to convince myself that I deserve love, happiness, everything I used to tell myself I could never have. But he’s my dad. Was my dad. I just don’t know what I feel as I stand and stare at the roses on his headstone. Roses… I never liked roses much. Figures. I want to cry, want to scream and rage. There’s so much going on inside of me I feel all tight, wound up like a toy. I want a drink desperately, but I always swore I wouldn’t end up like him. I’m not going to drink myself into an early grave. I have more respect for myself and loved ones than that. I’m not even sure why I’m here. I stopped loving my dad a long time ago. Stopped feeling anything but a faint trace of bitterness and fleeting regret and now that he’s cold and buried I still can’t force myself to feel anything else except for maybe relief. Does that make me a bad person, to be relieved that my dad’s finally dead and gone? That’s he’s out of my life in every way possible? Or does it simply say what kind of person he was? A part of me wonders if a man like him could get into heaven. Another part just doesn’t want to know. And suddenly I’m crying, crying decades of tears that I’ve hoarded and gathered and nursed until the day that my no good father couldn’t hurt me anymore. And its so damn lonely, standing in the drizzle, in the gray, gray humidity of Seattle. My mother didn’t bother to come and Grannie Mattley went home long ago. I wrap my arms around myself and hunch my thin shoulders over. A damp wind blows untamed curls into my face. A warm hand touches my side and I turn, surprised, startled, and look up, up into grave blue eyes. “He’s gone Nicky, he’s finally gone.” Nick stares down at me, face unreadable, gaze dark as twilight, blonde hair newly cut and a wedding band gleaming on his strong hands. But when he hold his arms out I don’t hesitate, don’t pause for breath as I step forward and go to the only safety that I’ve ever known. The tears are coming harder and faster and I can barely feel Nick running and tangling bare hands through my hair and rubbing my back as he murmurs soft intelligible words in my ear. And I know that’s he not mine, and maybe never really was. I know that he has a perfect, beautiful wife waiting for him at home but right then, standing at my father’s grave it suddenly doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he’s here, that he came, somehow, someway, that he understood what this would mean to me, what it would do for me, and that he’s here to hold me when I finally let myself cry. “Its okay baby,” he whispers roughly as he rocks me in his arms, like a child, like a broken child. “I hated him Nicky… I hated him and I wanted to love him so damn bad…” “I know sweetie…” “Why does it have to hurt so bad? Why does life hurt so much?” I cling to him and I hate my weakness but I can’t help it. I’m so tired of being strong. “I’m sorry Corrie, so sorry…” And suddenly he’s kissing me and I’m kissing him back and I remember what it feels like to be a part of something special, to be a part of Nickolas Gene Carter’s world. But it’s not my world any longer. I don’t belong here. Not anymore. I never really did. It breaks something inside of me to pull away, but it’d be more wrong to stay in that perfect circle of trust and safety and love that’s already been lost to me a long time ago. “Go home to your wife Nicky. Go home to your wife.” His face when he looks down at me is so damn sad. “Why are you always the one telling me that?” Lower lip trembling I wipe the tears from my eyes and reach up to brush his cheek with my fingers. “You love her Nick. It’d be wrong because… because you don’t love me anymore.” Tears cloud his too blue eyes. “Oh Corrie, I… I’ll always love you, just… just not enough.” Ow, that one hurt. “And I’ll always love you too much.” “I’m so sorry Corrie.” I rock back on my heels and dash more tears away. “That doesn’t change a damn thing though.” “No, it doesn’t. Do… do you need a ride anywhere?” “No, I think I kinda want to walk.” “Call me when you get back to Miami.” I nod and watch him stride away, back towards sunny Miami and his sunny wife and perfect, blonde world. I kneel at my father’s grave and take a deep breath as I reach out to touch a single rose. The tears are gone for now, dried away by that dull ache in my breast where my heart used to be. I was Nick Carter's sometimes girl, now I’m no one’s girl, certainly not my daddy’s. The rain is coming down harder and I can feel it soaking me beneath my coat but I don’t care. It’s hard to care about anything at all right now, except for the man who just walked away from me, again. Seattle really, REALLY sucks.