**Don't worry, I know how amazing I am, but you can go ahead and tell me anyway. And yes you will STILL get an update Friday! Triple update? I think yes! Things are finally going to start heating up...guess who you get to finally meet on Friday?? GET EXCITED YA'LL!**

The necklace mentioned:

Roxie's Outfit:

Roxie's POV

I felt like my stomach had dropped to my ass as I walked away from the baggage claim. I also felt hungover - because I was. Matter of fact, I think I was still a little drunk.

Or maybe a lot, who really knew?

The few drinks I had on the plane didn't help the matter either, but I was going to need the liquid courage more than ever before in my life.

I slipped my sunglasses over my eyes to hide their major glassiness (which would easily give away my current state of sobriety) before beginning to look around for whoever the hell it was that was picking me up. I stumbled towards the closest bench, slumping down onto it and pulling out my now-ringing cell phone.

"Hello?" I rasped out groggily, not bothering to check the caller ID first. I really have to get better at that.

"Roxanne, hello. I was calling to inform you that we're all just so tied up right now that we can't stop to come and get you. You'll have to catch a taxi or something," came Sandra's snooty, stuck up voice that I've hated since day one. Instead of responding, I just hung up and released a tipsy giggle. I ordered a car on my phone before hoisting myself off the bench and began lazily rolling my luggage towards the exit of the airport.

When the automatic doors opened, a large gust of hot air hit me.

Can't say I miss the Texas heat, I thought to myself. I was thankful that I'd been smart enough to wear my light, mesh material tank top and cotton shorts for the plane ride. I wiped away the thin sheen of sweat that's accumulated on my forehead just as my ride pulled up. Wow, talk about service.

"Do you need help with those?" the driver asked, eyeing my body up and down as I tried and failed to shove my luggage into the trunk of his cab.

"You know what? Yeah. I'm too fucked up for this shit," I laughed while letting all my stuff drop back onto the pavement. He could toss it in instead. Or leave it behind. I didn't really care. He joined in with my laughter before climbing back into the driver's seat as I slid into the back.

"Where to?" he asked. I contemplated my answer for a little while. Did I really want to go straight to my dad's place? Was I mentally ready for that?

No, no I was not.

"To the closest bar, please," I ordered before slumping my head back against the seat.

Thankfully, he didn't protest and soon dropped me off at some ritzy-looking place that I knew for certain I wouldn't fit in at. Good thing I was already a hop, skip, and a jump away from being totally hammered.

Sauntering in with all my things, I ignored the questioning glares as I took a seat at the bar.

"If you came in here hoping we'd serve you, think again. We're already on the radar for over-serving a few months ago, it's not gonna happen again," the bartender stated before pinning me down with his eyes.

"Well shit, Toby, who knew you - of all people - would be the hardass bartender," I snorted giving him an equally challenging gaze back. He looked immediately taken aback before he came a bit closer and scrutinized me with his eyes.

"Son of a bitch. Roxie? Is that you?" he asked, astonishment and wonder filling his eyes.

"In the flesh," I stated, opening my arms wide beside me before smacking them down on the counter. "Now, are you going to get me a beer or do you wanna try that stupid-ass rant about over-serving again? Because you and I both know that I could out-drink your ass any day even if I am a lightweight," I chuckled. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smirk before he popped the top off of a bottle and slid it across the counter to me.

"What the hell are you doing back in town?" he asked, leaning his arms against the bar top before shifting his stance so they were supporting his weight. Had I been sober, I would've been uncomfortable with his obviously-sultry eyes and too-close position that left little room between our faces. 

"Don't play dumb with me, Toby. You know why I'm here. Daddy dearest is forcing me to attend that stupid fucking wedding," I grunted angrily, taking a few long swigs from my bottle.

"You know, if you're not careful someone might think you're a little jealous," he chuckled before lifting a single brow at me, his flirtatious tone only wavering for a second.

"I knew I fuckin' hated this town for a reason. None of ya'll know how to shut your damn mouths and just let someone be, do ya? Here, keep the change," I spat, smacking down a twenty and storming out of the place. Once upon a time, Toby and I had been really good friends. He used to be a cool guy. He was a year younger than Jedrek and was always at every party we ever attended. Looks like he changed along with everyone else.

"Well, that was quick," my driver called through his open car window.

"What the hell are you still doing here?" I asked with a friendly smile, thinking he would've already driven off by now. The guy was funny; he'd bullshitted with me the entire ride here and I quickly decided that I currently liked him more than anyone else within a fifty-mile radius of me.

"I'm waiting for my next call. Most people in this area have their own personal chauffeurs," he snorted. I laughed before nodding, realizing what he was saying probably wasn't too far-off from the truth.

"Well, if you're up for it, I need a ride to the other side of town," I said while sauntering up to his car.

"Hop in," he said while unlocking the doors, allowing me to throw my stuff in on my own this time.

**

Forty-five minutes later, I was slightly more sober and clear-minded as the guy - whose name I learned was Zeke - pulled up to my father's house. It was definitely more run-down than the others surrounding it, but a rush of familiarity rushed through my body as the sight of the place brought back many good, and some bad, memories.

"Thanks again, I really appreciate it," I murmured to him as I handed over a wad of cash and got out. Dragging my stuff along with me, I stepped up onto the porch and rang the doorbell as butterflies swarmed in my stomach.

But they all dropped dead the second the door opened.

"Uh, can I help you?" some disheveled looking guy asked as he opened the door. The strong scent of weed rolled out in waves, forcing me to take an involuntary step back. Who the fuck is this guy?

"Uh, sorry, I'm looking for Roger Robinson?" I spoke uneasily.

"Oh, the dude that used to live here? Yeah, I bought the house from him, like, two years ago, I think?" he muttered while scratching at his hairy, uncovered stomach. I felt like a ton of bricks had been dropped on my chest.

I can't breathe.

"Woah, are you alright? You look like you're gonna, like, pass out or something," the guy rasped out before holding up his hands in front of him as if that was going to help in catching me if I did actually pass out.

There was only one thing bouncing around in my head as I thought of someone other than my father owning this house. "C-can I see your backyard? Please?" I begged desperately as tears started cascading down my face.

"Sorry, what?" he asked cautiously, very confused by my question. Hell, I would be too if I were him in this situation right now.

"I'll give you a thousand dollars in cash if you just let me see your backyard," I insisted before rifling around in my purse for the cash I'd mentioned. Holding it out in front of his face, he snatched it from my hand. Seconds later, the front door swung wide open for me. Had I been thinking logically, I probably wouldn't have turned my back to the guy or entered his home without someone with me.

I pushed him aside before running for the back door. I exploded onto the back porch, gripping the railing as a wave of emotions washed over me at seeing the same old oak tree still standing - the ancient treehouse still intact as well.

Relief. Sadness. Desperation. Need.

That treehouse was the only thing I had left of my mother. I stumbled down the porch steps before climbing up the rope ladder that was seconds away from falling apart.

There, in the middle of the treehouse, I finally let myself cry for my mom for the first time since I'd left home. All the memories this treehouse held rushing back to me at once.

The last time I crawled inside was the night before she died when I'd prayed for God to let me keep her.

Dad had been so hesitant to build it, saying our backyard was just too small and that he wanted to cut the tree down anyway. Mom and I convinced him otherwise and spent the following two months building this place. Then, we spent another two weeks after decorating the inside and making sure it was perfect.

She and I did everything in here. We'd paint, read, put together puzzles, and play 'house' every day. When I got older, and she got sicker, she wasn't able to make it up the ladder anymore. That's when this place became my escape from reality. It was where I spent my nights just thinking. It was the place I had my first kiss, said my first I love you and even lost my virginity.

I couldn't get that one splinter out of my ass for days. The thought made me cry even harder. Jedrek was there - in the hospital - the night before she passed. She'd made him promise her to take care of me when she was gone. Made him promise her that he'd never stop loving me.

I pushed myself onto my knees and felt around the floor for the small hidden door I knew was there, wondering if my father had cleaned it out when he left. Uncovering the small piece of string, I pulled at it and popped the compartment open, feeling my heart shatter in my chest at the few items there. My tears stained the treated wood beneath me as I reached down and pulled out the unfamiliar jewelry box and envelope that wasn't there the last time I'd checked. Underneath it laid the two pictures I always kept hidden here; the first was of the three of us when I was an infant in front of the house - it was just after they'd bought it -  the second was of just my mother when she was pregnant with me. The edges of both were torn and tattered from being handled so often and slightly discolored due to the elements. I held all four items to my chest as my body shook violently.

My loud sobs must've been a little concerning seeing as Mr. Stoner came out to check on me.

"Are you alright up there?" he hollered up.

"You're not getting rid of this are you?" I asked through hiccups as I peeked out the only tiny window.

"I mean, it's kind of been on my to-do list for the last year, but..." he trailed off. But you've been too high to actually do it I thought, finishing the sentence for him in my head.

"How much do you want? I'll pay you anything to keep it," I said, my tone unwavering.

"For real?" he asked, shocked once again.

"This is the last thing I have left to remind me of my mother," I said. He stopped and assessed my tear-streaked face before looking down at his feet and then out into the distance.

"I'd be a major dick to take money from a girl who just wants to have something that reminds her of her dead mom. I'll keep it up, no worries," he assured before finally looking back up at me and smiling sympathetically.

"Thank you," I choked out, wiping away my tears with the back of my hand before descending the ladder.

"Have the locks on the fence changed since you moved in?" I asked, looking towards the side gate.

"Nah, I just left them as they were," he said with a shrug.

"Then I still have a key to them...do you mind me coming in every now and then?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't think I was a freak for even asking.

"Nah, that's fine. Just make sure you lock it up when you leave. The teenagers down the street are always trying to break in and steal my weed," he said before turning and leaving me alone with my thoughts. Well, the only thought that was still resonating throughout my brain. 

I'm going to fucking murder my father.

**

After exiting my third taxi ride of the day, I let my anger and adrenaline fuel me as I pounded my fist against the ridiculously large front door. I hated this house with a fucking passion. It reminded me of everything I'd lost - of how insignificant I was made to feel when I needed love and support the most.

The entire ride here, I'd become more and more angry at my father's disgustingly selfish actions. How could he sell the house from under me without even so much as a text?! Did I mean that little to him anymore? The thought caused my eyes to prick with unwanted tears. Not now, eyeballs.

When there wasn't an answer, I tried again but threw my weight into each hit. I was definitely going to have a bruise tomorrow.

"Spalding residence, please state your business," came a manly voice over a hidden intercom.

"I'm here for my father," I growled out, patting myself on the back when my voice came out confident and loud. There wasn't another reply, just the sound of a few locks being undone before the door came open. I kicked it all the way open with my foot - catching the butler off guard as he flew back - before throwing my things down on the ground next to me and storming through the house.

I followed the sound of laughter and loud chatter, which led me to a narrow hallway with only one exit. A picture hanging on the wall to my right caught my eye, causing me to skid to a complete stop. It wasn't just one photo, though; the entire length of the wall was covered in family photos.

But there wasn't a single one of me. Not even one of me and my father together. He let them cut me out. This was the only place he called home now, and I wasn't considered a part of it.

The tears came fast and furious after that revelation, which only fueled my previous anger. I didn't even bother to wipe them away as I stormed up to the double french doors. They opened up to an overly lavish outdoor entertainment area complete with a surround sound system, a wet bar, and two massive televisions. Yes, two.

My vision tunneled on my father dressed in something he would've never been caught dead in years ago with a posh hair cut and clean-shaven face. None of them had spotted me yet, so I just watched. He laughed and smiled like he was having the fucking time of his life. Like he hadn't thrown everything important to me away and replaced it like it was nothing.

I stumbled back away from the gathering, just needing to be away from them all. I placed a hand to my rolling stomach before turning and dashing for the stairs. I stumbled throughout the various maze-like hallways until I finally found what seemed to be a vacant guest bedroom.

My legs gave out from under me after I slammed the door shut. I crawled on my hands and knees towards the bed before pulling the items from the treehouse out of my duffle bag pocket and depositing them on the comforter. I popped the small, velvet box open to find the intricate locket that'd always hung around my mother's neck. When she'd been cremated, I'd asked my father what happened to it, but he said my aunt must've taken it after the funeral. Since they wrote my mother off years before I was even born, I had no way of contacting them to ask about it. 

It was originally my grandmothers - given to her as a birthday gift on her sweet sixteenth. Encrusted in the middle was a garnet - my grandmother's birthstone that, miraculously, my mother and I both shared with her. I undid the locket to find a small photo of my mother with me lying against her chest when I was first born. 

On the other side was a note that said always with you.