I shook my head, but I couldn’t get my mouth to move. Standing in the living room, the lamp light was stronger across his face, so I saw the ever-so-slight pulsing tick in his jaw. I also saw when the careful, controlled mask finally slipped, giving way to intense disappointment swimming in his eyes.
“Twelve hundred dollars? Are you kidding me? I trust you to be responsible and this is how you repay me? Sneaking around behind my back and throwing away my money?” Dad shook his head with a look that said I’d let him down beyond belief. “Tell me, were you going to at least discuss the repairs with me before you agreed to them, or were you planning on hiding it like you did with the alternator?”
My mind raced to process all the information coming at me, and when I finally caught up, my eyes widened.
Dad huffed a breath. “Yeah, I know about that, too.”
“Gabriel.” The name came out sounding like a curse, which was exactly what I was doing to the mechanic in my head. “I can’t believe he told you.”
“Of course he did, Lily, you’re a minor,” he replied, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t go putting this on him. You’re my daughter; you should’ve told me, but you didn’t because you knew I wouldn’t approve of sinking money into a car that’s falling apart. Seventeen hundred dollars? My God, that’s almost more than it’s worth.”
He pushed to his feet and started pacing the length of the sofa. “You should’ve come to me at the first sign of trouble. My God, with the kind of repairs it needs, do you know what could’ve happened if you’d been driving and something went wrong? There could’ve been an accident. You could’ve been hurt—or worse. I just don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?”
“Why didn’t I tell you?” I repeated, my voice deceptively flat. Deceptive because the strangest sensation was churning under my skin.
Throughout Dad’s monologue, my previously sluggish, anxious heartbeat had picked up speed. It was like every memory of him not being here rose up inside me. Putting work before me. Not wanting to talk about Mom. The whole mess with Stone. By the time he was done, blood whooshed in my ears.
“You want to know why I snuck around?” I asked, inching farther into the room. “You want to know why I didn’t tell you what was going on?” A thrum of emotion now underscored my words, and my father’s frantic pacing stilled, his frustration transforming into watchfulness.
A humorless laugh escaped my throat, punctuating the otherwise quiet room. “I didn’t tell you, Dad, because you’re…never…here!”
The sound of my scream bounced off every solid surface in the room. It was possibly the first loud noise the house had heard in years.
“How can I tell you anything,” I screeched, “when you’re never around to hear it? Why would I even want to tell you if I could? You’ve wanted to get rid of Debbie for years. Mom loved that car, and you want to throw her away!”
Dad looked at me like I’d lost my mind, or maybe like he no longer knew who I was. Join the club. “Because it’s dangerous,” he countered. “That car was old when your mother drove her. We were looking at replacing it before she got sick—she knew it was time to let it go—but that got shoved aside when bills started piling. Now it’s even older.”
A haunted look of pain filled his eyes, and I’m not gonna lie, it hurt. Seeing the old grief mixed with new guilt and shame, and knowing I’d caused it, stung. But it was too late to turn back the clock. This wound had festered long enough, and my skin itched with the need to release the toxins.
Crossing my arms, I repeated through gritted teeth, “Mom loved Debbie.”
“Yes, she did,” Dad agreed with a sad nod. “But honey, it’s just a car.”
Something inside me broke at those words.
“No,” I sobbed. Three years of grief, loneliness, and fear shook my shoulders. “That’s where you’re wrong. It’s the only part of her I have left.”
With that, my chest caved in with the pressure. Two seconds later, strong arms were locked around me, and if I’d had the energy, I would’ve pushed him away. A voice inside screamed to punish him for all the times he’d pushed me away by traveling overseas or staying locked in his office. But I couldn’t do it. Every muscle in my body felt like it was filled with sand, and ultimately, he was my dad. For better or worse, despite everything, he would always be my rock. If he still even wanted the job.
“Why?” I asked him—begged him—my head buried in his chest, my choked words muffled by the fabric of his polo. “Why did you leave me all alone?”
“Oh, sweet girl…” The pet name made my sobs stronger, and Dad tightened his arms around me. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”
I shook my head against his chest and clutched his shirt. For so long, I’d wanted to ask why I wasn’t enough to keep him around. Why I’d lost both parents the day Mom died. But I’d been too scared to ask, terrified he’d shut me out completely.
“I’ve failed you,” he whispered against my hair, holding me so tight it was almost painful. “This is on me. It’s my fault. You did nothing wrong, sweet girl. I’m so sorry.”
The whispered apologies became a litany through my tears, and he kept on holding me close, partially rocking me in his arms. I couldn’t remember the last time my father had held me. Even at the funeral, my emotions had been locked away behind a steady numbness, and he’d been stoic, staying busy by taking care of everyone else. At the time, I’d had Sydney. But I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed my dad to simply be there. To hold me and tell me we were going to be okay—even if he’d known we weren’t.
When my gasps finally started to even out and my tears began to slow, Dad loosened his grip and tilted up my chin. Regret hung heavy in his eyes. “I’m ashamed of myself, Lily. I’ve made so many mistakes. You’re right, I did leave you alone. I told myself you were independent and strong, and I kidded myself into believing you were living a teenager’s dream, having the house to yourself. The truth is, I couldn’t let you see the shell of a man I’d become.”
Dad swallowed thickly as I wiped my eyes. “You always seemed like you had it together, and I let that be my excuse. I figured you didn’t need me. I see now, we’re more alike than I thought.” My eyebrows furrowed, and he gave me a sad smile. “I kept everyone out—you especially—by traveling and working. You did it by studying and preparing for the future.”
His words reminded me of something I’d once told Stone. How he’d hidden behind his QB smiles while I’d hidden behind my books. “Throwing myself into school was easier than focusing on how alone I felt.”
Remorse flooded his face, and he cupped a hand over his mouth. I blinked blurry eyes, wondering where and when I’d lost my glasses, but I was too tired to search. Instead, I plopped onto the sofa, and Dad released a ragged breath as he sat on the soft cushion beside me.
“Unfortunately, it can seem easier to stay broken rather than deal with the emotions and let yourself heal,” he murmured. “But I’ve let us both live in grief for too long, and I promise you, I’m going to do better. From here on out, it’s you and me, kiddo. I’m not going anywhere.”
Dad held my gaze, making sure I understood, and I nodded as a flutter of hope hit my chest. He didn’t mean he’d never travel for work again, though I had a hunch the trips would be less frequent. He was talking about us.
My father was back.
“I know I don’t deserve it,” he said, his gruff voice cracking with emotion. “But do you think you can forgive me?”
Fresh tears sprang to my eyes, and I twisted my body to throw my arms around his neck. “I love you, Daddy.”
“God…I love you, too, sweet girl.”
Over the next hour, I became reacquainted with my dad, and in turn, he got to meet me. Not the polished versions we presented the world at large but the real us. The messy, hurting, confused, and grieving versions. We caught up on the last three years of each other’s lives, opening up like we should’ve done all along, under the watchful ga
ze of our old family photos. Dad shared that he’d kept the grief away for the first year by losing himself in staying busy, but the loneliness always hit hardest at night. For a while now, he’d been wanting to cut back on the travel and be home more, but he’d felt stuck in a prison of his own making.
“Changing your course is hard,” he said, smoothing my hair from my face. “But you’re the most important thing in my life, Lily, and coming home to find you making yourself sick with stress was the wake-up call I needed.”
“It was for me, too,” I admitted, dropping my chin to my chest. My cheeks burned as I thought about my obstinate quest for valedictorian, followed by the past few roller-coaster weeks. “Dad, I feel like I don’t know who I am anymore. Or what I want to do. Everything was meticulously planned out, but now, it’s so messed up. What if—” I winced and looked away, scared to give voice to the thoughts that had been rattling inside my head this week. “What if Harvard’s not right for me? Ms. Kat recommended a program for secondary education history teachers right here in Texas, and I’d love to be closer to you, and Sydney, and Angéla…” I stopped short of saying Stone, but it was still the truth. “What would Mom say if she knew I was second-guessing our plan?”
Dad made a choked noise that sounded a whole lot like a laugh, and I raised my head, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “She’d say…thank God.”
Huh?
He smiled and leaned against the cushion. “Sweetheart, Mom wanted you to be happy, and she loved that you wanted to share her college experience, but it tore her up thinking of you being so far from home.” He shrugged a shoulder, like he wasn’t currently challenging my entire worldview. “She wanted you close. After she got sick, she worried we’d drift apart if you went away to school.”
His shoulders slumped, and I squeezed his arm before he could start apologizing again. His lips tightened, but he gave a curt nod and turned to look me in the eyes.
“The important thing is that you live your life, and not anybody else’s. It’s okay to share similar experiences with your mom and still follow your own path. Chase your own dreams. It doesn’t mean you love her any less.”
Hope wrangled with uncertainty, and I swallowed hard as we fell silent again. As I slid my knees up to my chest, my phone dug into my hip, and I pulled it out and tossed it on the coffee table. With my arms wrapped around my shins and my head rested against my father’s solid arm, I took a breath and released some of the fear that had taken root in my heart.
After a minute, Dad’s chest vibrated with a laugh. “Man, she would’ve gotten a kick out of you dancing, though.” His eyes swung to mine. “Watching you at the studio the other night? I swear, it was like she was sitting right next to me.”
“Yeah, I feel her there, too,” I told him. “Kind of like she left behind a part of her spirit.”
Sitting here with my dad, talking about Mom, I realized it wasn’t just in the studio that I felt her, either. I felt her with us at Angéla’s sleepover, I felt her at the game and bookstore, and I felt her with me here, the night of the dance. It used to be that the only way I felt connected to her anymore was when I drove Debbie, but the truth was, Mom wasn’t in her old car. She was in my heart.
A smile twisted Dad’s lips and he bumped my shoulder. “Did Viktória ever tell you Mom was scared of salsa?”
My jaw dropped, and I spun on my hip to face him.
Dad laughed at my sudden burst of energy. “Yup. As much as Isa loved watching others do the steps, she never felt confident enough to try the rhythmic styles. She would’ve loved seeing you do what she couldn’t.”
Warmth spread throughout my chest. Every time I thought of my mother’s face, one word came to mind: fearless. She lived her life with passion and heart, right up until the very end. It was crazy to think I could’ve surpassed her in some way.
Dad cleared his throat. “She’d probably wonder why you’re no longer dancing in the showcase.”
My smile fell, and with a sigh, I tucked my legs up underneath me.
“Is it because of Stone?”
“He lied to me, Dad.”
He raised an eyebrow and shot me a look. “By that logic, so did I.”
“That’s different,” I said, fidgeting with the seam on the sofa. “I’m not dating you,” I pointed out cheekily. “First, because that’d be gross, and second, because you’re so dang old.” He shot me a look, grumbling the word old, and I grinned. Then I blew out a breath and stared at the crisscross lines in the chenille cushion. “Stone kept that secret so easily. It makes me wonder what else he could have hidden.”
Dad studied me, and I ducked my head, trying to hide behind my hair.
“You’re scared,” he said softly, but I still flinched. “You love him…and love is terrifying.”
I lifted my head in surprise, and he slid me a smile.
“It’s wonderful, too, don’t get me wrong. Best feeling in the world. But living with your heart outside your chest?” He hissed a breath. “Not easy. Love means letting someone else affect your happiness and trusting them to love you despite your ugly scars. But when they love you back?” Dad’s voice wobbled, and I knew he was thinking of Mom. “It makes every terrifying second worth it.”
I shook my head at the one flaw in his logic. “But Stone doesn’t love me.”
Dad smiled like he knew something I didn’t. “Call it a hunch, but that boy is gone over you. Trust me.” Stretching his arm across the back of the sofa, he put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Now tell me, what are you really scared of?”
A heavy weight settled in my chest, and I swallowed. “That I’m not enough.”
The hand on my shoulder tensed, and I rested my chin on my knees. “I’m not saying this to hurt you, Dad, but you left me. I’ve been on my own for years. What if…what if it was guilt that kept Stone hanging around? What if he felt bad for taking the money, and being with me was some sort of penance? I can’t take him back only for him to turn around and break my heart again when he gets tired of me and moves on. It’s safer just to hold on to the memories than to put myself back out there.”
Dad released a heavy sigh, then bent forward to kiss my head. “People can hurt us even when it’s the last thing they want to do, kiddo. And hurt like that, from people we trust, it’s hard to get over. But you don’t have to forget to forgive. Most people deserve a second chance.” He paused, then added a bit roughly, “Sometimes third and fourth chances, too.”
My chin trembled as tears blurred my eyes. Again. At this rate, my body had to be close to dehydration. “Can we not talk about Stone anymore?” I asked quietly.
“One more thing,” he said, “then we don’t ever have to say his name again if you don’t want.”
As I raised my head and tightened my hold around my legs, Dad reached into his pocket. “Stone asked me to give this to you, and after consulting the internet, I think you should have it.” In his palm was the necklace from Homecoming. “My Spanish isn’t as good as it used to be, but I remember the fun words, and apparently, this one’s been given a new meaning.”
At his playful, knowing grin, I blushed, and Dad handed me the necklace.
“I’ve always been proud of you, Lily, but never as much as when I watched you on that dance floor the other night. You’ve changed over these last six weeks. There’s a light inside you that’s impossible to miss. The boy’s right.” He quirked an eyebrow. “You’re a badass.”
Shocked laughter burst from my lips, and the pleased smile on his face healed a few more of my broken pieces. Biting my lip, I brushed a fingertip over the charm. “I actually feel that way when I dance.”
“Then why not do it tomorrow?” he asked. “Say the word and Viktória would jump to put you back in. Hell, words haven’t yet been invented to describe how happy she’d be.”
I laughed softly, imagining her reaction. “Yeah, she would. But what if I mess up? What if I see the crowd, freak out, and have another panic attack? On stage this time.”
I returned his smile, then released a groan.
Blah. I hated when people used logic against me.
I threw my head back on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. Honestly, why was I fighting this so hard? Dad wanted me to dance. Angéla wanted me to dance. Mrs. Viktória definitely wanted me to dance. Hell, even I wanted me to dance.
If Stone were here, he would’ve called me out for being stubborn.
Dancing made me happy. When I was out there, doing my thing, I didn’t fear the future and I wasn’t trying to forget the past. I simply lived for the next step. Nibbling on my lip again, I admitted, “If I don’t dance tomorrow, I’m scared I’ll regret it.”
Dad smiled, then grabbed my phone from the coffee table. “Then you know what you need to do.”
Excitement swirled in my stomach. Opening my messages, I ignored the influx of unread texts from Stone and tapped Angéla’s name. My feet bounced against the cushion as I typed.
Tell your mom I’m back in.
I quickly hit send, then stared at my phone, my feet tapping a nervous rhythm. Almost immediately, emoji faces exploded across the screen, along with a half dozen exclamation points, and I laughed as the worried niggles gave way to giddy butterflies.
Tilting my hand, I showed Dad Angéla’s enthusiastic response, and he grinned, wrapping his arm around me. As I snuggled into his strong, comforting embrace, breathing in his familiar spicy aftershave, a few more broken pieces knit back together.
Eyes on Me Page 29
