The Journey | #1 Smoky Mountain Series

Tampa, Florida Sunday, May 8, 10:23 a.m.     "Baby, you don't have to go. We can work things out. You know she doesn't mean anything to me," Owen tells me, his usual deep voice filled pain.   How stupid does he think I am? His lucky charms are no longer magically delicious and have no hold over me. He ruined that two weeks ago.   I scoff. "Obviously, she meant enough for you to f**k her in my apartment."   I pause and take a breath, knowing this won't be pleasant. "We're done, Owen. Don't call me anymore," I say and hang up.   I sigh when my phone chimes and press ignore. I know it's not my dad calling. I phoned him last night to tell him I would be arriving in his home state of Tennessee later tonight.   This is the first time I will have seen my father since I was baby. My mother, Melissa, left my father when I was a year old and took me with her. She raised me the way she wanted, which meant constant picking of how I was and what I did. My mother now lives in Orlando with her current boy toy of the month and has a fat diamond on her finger.   After catching my boyfriend, Owen, and my current roommate together, I packed my things and went to stay in a hotel. About a week later, I went to collect my mail when I came across a stack of letters and holiday cards, all addressed to me. At the bottom of each of them was a phone number and, on a whim, I called.   I was surprised to find that the phone number belonged to my father. When he answered, I don't think I've ever heard so much happiness in someone's voice. We talked for hours and I discovered that he was a good man despite the monster my mother had made him out to be.   He told me of his home and what the rest of my family is like. Eventually, I told him of Owen and how our relationship had come to an abrupt end. He invited me to stay with him. After some deep thought and an argument with my drama queen of a mother, I accepted his invitation.   So, here I am. Packing my car to the extreme and in need of a relaxing spa day.   Who knew taping boxes and gathering your belongings could be so stressful?   I leave my key for the hotel room at the front desk and check out. All of the boxes have been loaded into my car so I can get on the road without much hassle. As I walk to my car, I begin to feel my nerves set in. A million questions run through my mind. What if my family doesn't approve of the way I am or how my mother raised me?   What if being in Tennessee isn't the way I'm supposed to go?