E. Montes - Perfectly Damaged

The paintbrush charm signifies the hope that when you do paint again, you’ll capture every moment, both good and bad, and every emotion without feeling stuck or shoving them away. If you can do that, Jersey Girl, you can paint the world.

The heart-shaped charm symbolizes my love for you and the love we shared. As long as you want it, my heart will always be yours. But most of all, I hope that you can learn to love yourself. You will never know how special and beautiful and intelligent you are until you can love the person I fell in love with.

And lastly, the yellow stone charm reflects the light you shine on so many lives, mine included. And I hope that no matter how many demons you struggle with, you will always find your way out of the dark.

I love you, Jersey Girl.

Always,

Logan

Tears are freely flowing down my cheeks as I try to blink them away. With one hand I grip the letter, allowing the words to wrap around and soothe my heart. With my other hand I clench my fingers around the locket, forming a fist and bringing it to my chest.

The last three months we shared together begin to whirl in my head: me flowing beneath the water in the pool, the first time I saw his blue eyes when he jumped in after me, our first kiss on the porch, the day I ran away and he found me on the street corner barefoot, weekends at the lake house sitting together on the dock, us laying by the lake watching the stars.

My thoughts continue, lingering briefly on each memory. The park. The laughs. The hugs. The special Logan kisses. The day I realized I fell in love with him. The day I told him about my illness. The day he accepted me—all of me. The first time we made love. The fear I felt when he moved me in with him. The day I thought he’d given up—my hand reaching for him, begging him not to let them take me away. The look of fear and confusion in his eyes after realizing what he’d done.

And now.

This.

The letter. The locket.

Through it all, I still love him. I will always love him, but he’s right. I need to learn how to love myself before I can fully love him.

I can slowly work on it.

Starting with today.

6 months later

Jenna

I remove the books from of the last box and place them on the bookshelf. There’s something about emptying the last box that’s relieving. Looking around, I inspect my new place and smile. It’s definitely different than my bedroom, but now that I’m sharing a space with Charlie we had to compromise on décor.

I hear a knock at the door and rush over to open it. My father steps in with a large box in his hand. “I was just thinking how great it felt to empty the last box. Thanks, Dad,” I joke. He leans in, pressing his lips against my forehead.

“Well, I thought you’d like to have some of Brooke’s things,” he says, dropping the box on top of the dining table.

I walk over and search through, smiling at the filled picture frames, a few of her favorite books, and a few other favorite things of hers. “Thank you, Daddy.” I hug him.

He nods.

“Would you like anything?” I ask, walking into the open kitchen.

He scoots onto a stool by the island. “I’ll have coffee.”

While the coffee is brewing, I turn and face him. My handsome father looks run-down. “Have you heard from Mom?” I ask him.

He shakes his head. “No. Like I said to you, I know it’s difficult for your mother to handle this separation, but until she gets professional help, I can’t continue going on with her like this.”

I nod in understanding. “Do you know if she is?”

“I’ve spoken with Dr. Rosario. She won’t give me specifics, but she has mentioned she’s been in the office. I’m just hoping it works out for her.” He pauses. “Jenna, I do love your mother. We have a history of twenty-eight years and I can’t erase that, even if I tried. But the way she treated you was uncalled for, and I couldn’t stand by and let her think it was acceptable.”

I know this has been as hard on him as it has been on me. I haven’t spoken to my mother in over eight months. I’d be lying if I said she hasn’t crossed my mind because she has. I wonder if she’s getting the help she needs, or if she even thinks of me, but I don’t dwell on it for too long. I’ve learned not to focus on the things I can’t control. Instead I focus on waking up each morning and continuing to push throughout the day. “Thank you,” I say, then slide a filled mug his way.

Charlie walks in just on time. “Hey, Mr. McDee.”

“Charlie.” My father smiles.

“Guess who I just ran into at the market?” she says, placing the groceries on the counter.

“Who?” I ask.

“Bryson.” My body stills at hearing his name. It’s the closest I’ve gotten to Logan in a long time. And since Santino and Charlie haven’t been a thing for a while, I haven’t heard anything about any of the guys. “He is getting hotter, by the way, and guess what? He finally dumped Blair. For good this time! Thank God.”

“How is he?” I ask, slowly scooting onto a stool. What I really want to ask is How is Logan doing?

“He’s okay. His father is ill.”

“George?” I breathe out in disbelief.

She nods, digging into the bags and removing a carton of milk. “Yeah. Poor guy. Cancer. They found out last month, and he’s going through chemo. Bryson has been handling the business on his own. Since Logan left he’s been so busy.”

“Left? What do you mean Logan left?”

“I think I’m going to go now.” My father stands, heads my way, and leaves a kiss on my cheek. “Enjoy your new apartment, baby.”

“Thank you, Dad.” He waves bye to Charlie and leaves. I focus back on Charlie. “Logan left?”

She stops, her hands resting over the counter, and then she looks at me. “Yes. Logan quit months ago. He said he needed a new start. He moved to the Poconos and has been staying at the lake house. He began working on small projects around there.”

I swallow hard. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you were finally getting yourself together. And he thought it was best.”

I shake my head. “He? The two of you have been talking?”

“Not much, just through text. He only texts me to check in on you. I didn’t even know about his uncle until today.”

“How could you keep that from me, Charlie?” I stand, pacing in the kitchen as I reach for the locket secured around my neck.

“Like I said, he wanted to keep it that way.”

Wetting my lips, I stop my pacing. “Does he not want to see me?”

“Jenna, he loves you. He always has. He asked me to respect his wishes and not mention him to you. I thought it was ridiculous and that the two of you need each other, but he made me promise.”

I rush to the closet, grab my jacket, and snatch my keys from the counter.

“Where are you going?” Charlie shouts out.

“To the lake house.”

After the longest two and a half hour drive of my life, I finally reach the lake house. I stop and admire it for a moment. It looks different. Quiet. There’s no music or people partying or Ping-Pong games set up. It’s simply peaceful and beautiful.

Instead of using the front entrance, I walk around the back. My heart skips a beat when I see Logan’s truck. He’s here. I find the courage to climb the stairs of the deck and gently knock on the door.

Nothing.

My knuckles scrape against the door as I knock louder this time. Still there’s no answer.

Air leaves my lungs in frustration. I’ve come too far to just walk away. Turning, I head for the swing bench by the large tree, thinking I could wait there for him. That’s when I see him. He’s on the dock by the lake. I take in a lungful of air, hoping it will give me the confidence to face him.

I slowly travel down the long path that leads to the dock. My legs tremble as I continue down the wooden boards. His back is facing me. He’s standing by the edge, looking over the lake, his hands shoved in the front pockets of his khaki shorts. A white T-shirt hugs his figure, exposing his broad shoulders, and he’s wearing the Phillies cap.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I say as I get closer.

His body stiffens; slowly, he tilts his head and looks over his shoulder. I freeze in place and take this second to appreciate the sight of him. He looks down and then turns around so he’s facing me.

I take a few steps forward until we’re arm’s length away from one another. “Hey,” I say, my eyes glued to his.

“Hey,” he says back, swallowing.

We both stand here for a long time, trying to figure out if this is real. Both our chests and shoulders move rapidly with our breathing.

“You look really good,” he finally says.

“So do you,” I say quietly.

His brows furrow. “How did you get here?” he asks.

“I drove.”

His face lights up. “You’re finally driving, huh?”

I let out a nervous chuckle. “No. Actually I took a taxi.”

He laughs, which makes me smile. For a moment everything is back to normal until he bows his head, breaking our connection.

“I heard about your uncle. I’m sorry.”

He looks up. “Thanks. He’s strong. He’s going to beat this.”

I nod. “I know he will.”

Another round of silence. Then his gaze drops to my neckline. “I see you got the necklace.”

I lift my hand and touch it. “Yeah. I love it. Thank you. This necklace and your letter got me through a lot during my recovery.”

His lips slant, eyes tearing up a bit. “I’m glad to hear that. I meant everything in that letter.”