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I meet Haven in the treehouse

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I meet Haven in the treehouse.

I borrow Mom's car, which I know I will be in for when she finds out I took it without permission. However, this is the last thing on my mind as I sit alone atop the wooden floorboards, eyeing the inky sky out of the window. The night air is crisp and breezy, leaving me to sit with my knees pulled to my chest and a cardigan wrapped tightly around my figure for warmth, though I don't mind the chill.

I notice the headlights before anything else, and watch from above as Haven's car slows to a stop. She hurries to exit the vehicle and climbs the ladder to the top of the branches before finally joining my side. She offers a smile in greeting, though her expression is laced with curiosity.

"Hey," Haven murmurs once she has finally settled comfortably into place, leaning against the wall opposite me. Her easy going demeanor crumbles upon taking notice of my expression. I watch her smile wilt into a concerned frown, no doubt due to a glimpse of my puffy eyes and swollen features. Slight panic laces her tone as she questions, "Are you okay, Em?"

I nod, though I remain wordless. I don't really know what to say at this moment; I cannot find the words to confess what is on my mind. All I know is that I love this girl. I love how she makes me feel, how she smiles at me, how effortlessly the two of us came together. I know the way I loved my father, and how similar the two are. I am certain he would love her if he had been given the chance to meet her. And I know in my heart it is finally time to introduce them in the best way I can.

I want Haven to know me–all of me. The good and the bad. I want to love her fully, which means I have to be open and vulnerable, as I can't truly love someone with my guard up. I know that I cannot allow myself to continue keeping secrets if I want to give Haven the opportunity to really know me, to give her the chance to meet who I really am. She deserves to know about my past so that she can choose if she wants to be a part of my future. Dad's passing has had a big impact on who I am–furthermore, his existence shaped me into who I am. If Haven loves me, then she deserves to see all parts of me, especially what I consider to be the most important parts.

I clear my throat. "I know you've met my mom." My voice is shaky as I speak, though I press on. "And I know you've probably wondered about my dad, even if you've never asked."

Haven furrows her eyebrows. Her expression is thoughtful as she regards me. "I mean, yeah," she admits honestly, tone soft. "I guess I have some questions, but . . ." she trails off, pursing her lips. "Everyone has secrets," she finally whispers. "And it's not my place to ask about it. I love you, Em. Whatever you want to talk about, you do on your own time. Just know I'll be here to listen whenever you're ready."

"I want to talk about it," I confess. My nerves feel jumbled and leave me jumpy. "I mean, I'm ready to . . ." I allow my words to wander. How do I possibly form what I am thinking into a sentence?

Haven shifts closer slightly, just enough so that her pinky can rest atop mine. I find comfort in just the single touch. "Hey," she says gently, expression riddled with simple love and affection. "When you're ready, Em. Okay?" And this is all she says. No questions, no prying. I am once again reminded of what made me so drawn to her in the first place–her gentleness, her patience, her acceptance.

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