Lynn's POV

"I love her. She is the best part of me. I will do anything for her. I aim to do what's best for her always, but I still wasn't able to protect her..." he says regretfully.

I feel my eyes bulge out of my scull. "There's more?!" I ask, my voice full of surprise.

"Hannah received two years for drug possession and one year for child neglect," he continues. "when she was released, she reached out."

I scoff. "Can she even do that?"

"Yes." He responds annoyed. "The state doesn't like to strip people of their parental rights unless it's necessary."

I roll my eyes and shake my head. I don't know why I'm surprised. I've seen it in my own classroom throughout the years. I've filed reports to child protective services numerous times and it took like the fifth time for them to do something. Then the child is in foster care for a few months, parents go through counseling or something and then the kids go back home. The whole system is frustrating.

"So she reached out?" I repeat. "Then what happened?"

"I didn't respond at first, but then I received a call from Hannah's caseworker." He sits on the couch in defeat. "She guilted me."

I look at him confused.

"She told me about how Hannah gave her permission to reach out to me. Then she explained that Hannah was completing all of the programs needed to and that there should be no reason to why I won't let Hannah see her daughter." He shakes his head. "Her daughter. The only thing she did for her was give birth."

"But you said no, right?" I probe.

He shakes his head. "She gave me some bullshit about second chances. That I was lucky to get one and was able to be a great father to Isabelle, that maybe Hannah could too."

I take a deep breath. Bullshit is right.

"I fell for it. Maybe she could change? I did." He rubs his fingers through his hair. "So after thinking about it, I agreed to supervised visits. Isabelle was almost four so it was hard to explain to her what was actually going on. But after a few months of supervised visits, I was impressed with Hannah. She was really trying..." he says woefully and his head down.

"What happened?" I asked joining him on the couch.

"She relapsed." He reveals. "She showed up at our house, unscheduled, and all tweaked out." He begins to get angry. "She showed up at 5am banging on the door. When I opened it she pushed through shoving me against the wall. Then, went straight to Izzy's room and tried to take her."

My heart is beating fast.

"Hannah grabbed her arms and shook her awake. Then tried pulling her by her wrists to follow. Izzy was so scared, she was screaming and crying. I had to call 911."

I feel like I am watching a TV drama or reading a book or something, except it's not fiction. This really happened.

"Izzy had bruises on her wrists for a week." He grits out. "Bruises inflicted by her mother, all because I made the decision to let her back in her life." He says with venom in his voice.

"Do not blame yourself for that." I argue. "You couldn't have known that was going to happen." I say placing my hand over his, trying to comfort him. This is definitely a fucked up situation and I don't even know how I would handle it, if it happened to me.

"I filed a restraining order, but she still tried making contact, so I did what I do best— I ran away." He reveals.

"This time, you were doing what you thought was best for Isabelle. That's different." I encourage.

"She's found us... twice." He says in disbelief. "The last place we were at, I got called into work and I had to take her to a drop off center, just for an hour..." he gives me an uncomfortable look.

I can tell, this isn't going to be a good story. Well none of it has been good.

"Hannah swooped in and picked her up." He reveals. "Izzy knew who her mom was from all the previous scheduled visits," he explains. "At the time, she was a little girl that still missed her mom. She didn't understand what was going on. So when Hannah showed up at the center, Izzy ran up to her, called her mom and hugged her." He shakes his head. "I mean I don't blame the place, what would you do?"

"Izzy was happy to see her?" I ask confused.

"She barely remembers the night that Hannah came... It's like she blocked it out." He answers. "Plus, I didn't know how to explain everything that happened to her. I mean she was only five years old. So I told her that her mom had to leave for a little bit."

"I get why you did that." I reassure him again. I can tell that all of this still haunts him.

"So just think, you're five years old, your mom, who you think left you, comes to see you. You'd be ecstatic."

"Okay, so what happened next?"

"She's crazy all those drugs messed her up. She took Izzy to the park to play while she met with her drug dealer." He scoffs. "Get this... she didn't have enough money, so she called me from a blocked number, said if I wanted to see Isabelle again I would have to bring 500 dollars to the park where they were at."

My heart drops.

"So I called 911, went to the park grabbed my daughter and got the hell out of there."

I can tell he is trying not to cry, but I mean who wouldn't?

"We moved here and in with my mother, because I couldn't fend Hannah off by myself." he confesses. "The state asked her to sign over her parental rights, she refused. She voluntarily checked herself into rehab and that was that." He says irritated. "I didn't want to stick around for another relapse.

"Do you think she will try again?" I ask.

"I don't know," he gives a deep sigh. "I went to see her, just to let her know not to come looking for us... she seemed very remorseful and understanding." He shrugs. "I mean I understand... substance abuse is a disease and she wasn't fully in control of her actions, but I need to do what's best for Isabelle. I need to protect her." He says determined.

Silence falls between us.

"So that's everything?" I ask to confirm.

He nods his head.

I stand up and begin to pace again, his face falls in his hands.

"So to summarize... you got someone pregnant the night of our break up, you fled, then took responsibility and became a great dad. You were human and chose to forgive... because who wouldn't?" I said animatedly with my arms.

Noticing that he's still sitting in defeat, shoulders sagging, eyes staring at the floor, I kneel down in front of him and take his hands from his face and make him look at me. "You're doing the right thing." I encourage.

"I am so sorry," he says as tear slides down his cheek.

"You don't need to be, but I forgive you." I offer him a weak smile, "None of what happened between us matters anymore, because Isabelle is your whole world, I get it." I say finally accepting everything he just told me.

"You do?" he says relieved.

I hum and nod at the same time.

"Thank you!" He shouts, before quickly pulling my mouth to his and kissing me. This was a kiss that communicated everything he was feeling without having to use any words; he was regretful, sorry, and wanted to make up for everything.

I abruptly pushed him away. His face staring back at me with so much hurt. My intention was not to be harsh, but I need to a minute to think about this...

Did I forgive him? Yes.

But could I really move on from this with him. There are too many variables now that feelings and history are involved... who am I kidding? It was like that even before this, but only now am I actually acknowledging how fucked I am.

I look down at his plump lips that are still glistening from the kiss.

I lean in, one last time, to give him a quick peck.

"I don't know if I can do this." I confess.

"What do you mean?" he asks anxiously.

"It isn't just about you and me anymore. You have a daughter that we need to consider." I share nervously, hearing my heartbeat in my ears. "I'm not sure if that's something I can handle." My voice begins to break. "You know how I can be. I just don't know if I'm cut out for it." A tear slides down my cheek.

"I'm not asking you to marry me," he answers back frustrated. "I'm only asking for a chance, for us to be together and happy, like we used to be."

"I know that... I just..." I say at a loss for words.

He puts his finger up to my lip to stop me. "Just think about it." He begs. "please." He says before walking toward the door.

I shake my head, "why does it matter?" I snap. "I'm nothing special." I yell at the back of his head.

He stops, his hand on the door, but doesn't turn around. "That's where you're wrong." He says softly under his breath before leaving me.

As soon as the door closes, I break down.

A/N:

Disclaimer: the information above regarding legalities and possession, I cannot promise they are 100% accurate. I received this information from google and reviewing state laws.

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