Perfectly Damaged

I know you feel as if I have given up on you, and for a while I thought maybe I had. But the more I think of it, the more I know I was never giving up. Instead it was the complete opposite. I’d never thought I would fall in love, but you changed that for me. I now know that it’s possible for anyone to feel and be loved. Even if it was just for the short summer we had together, you have no idea how much you changed my life. You saved me from the standstill I lived in for so long. I truly feel my purpose was to find you, and if we never see one another again, I know loving you was the reason I was given a second chance at life.

You have given me so much, and for that I want to give you something in return. If you haven’t already opened the present, you’ll find a locket with a few charms. Each one represents what I want to give to you and what I hope for you in life:

The coin with the word ‘believe’ inscribed on it, represents my hope that one day you can believe in yourself and your talents just as much as I do.

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.

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.”