The silence and uncertainty is killing me. I’ve got an assload of resentment built up with my dad, but my love outweighs it all. “I just want him to love me. I’ve been a disappointment since day one. I wasn’t born with a dick, so his family name ends with him. I wasn’t smart enough. I didn’t want to join the Air Force. I don’t know what I want to do with my life. I skate through and don’t take responsibility. He’s never asked me what I want. What I’m good at. I want his acceptance. You know what’s so fucked up? All I want is a home. I want to create a home with a man I love and teach my children they can be whatever they want. I want them to have the freedom to imagine. I won’t stifle them.” I’ve opened up this gaping hole, and I can’t shut it. I continue to pour my confessions, and I don’t care if it makes me weak. “I want to watch them make mistakes, and instead of berating them, I’ll pick them up and help them fix it. I’ll be their backbone when they’re scared. I’ll be their advocate in this fucked up world. I’ll be everything I wish he was to me, and I’ll do it with an amazing man.”
I know I’ve stunned her, hell, if anyone heard me admit this, it’d send them for a loop. I’ve got so many facets, but I don’t allow them to come together. I can be bitchy, or I can be fun. I can be the partier, or the student. They all fight for dominance, refusing to play nice together— until today.
Might as well let it all hang loose. “I’ve lied to you for weeks. For months.” My tears come harder, faster . . . I have to tell her. “Adriane didn’t go to Colorado. She didn’t know Deacon would be at the party.”
“What?” Her mouth drops, and in this moment, she is me. She’s feeling all the blame, confusion, anger, and disappointment that I feel when my dad does things to advance his agenda without being conscious of anyone else.
“I invited her. I’ve faked all the phone calls.” Truth. That’s all I can give her.
“I think I hate you. How’d you do it?” She can’t hate me as much as I hate myself. I’ve allowed circumstances to shape me— turn me into someone I don’t recognize instead of dealing with issues and refusing to let them own me.
“I think you should hate me. I overheard Deacon tell them in Colorado not to tell you the truth. He was so hurt you didn’t believe in him. I knew their loyalty would be to him, but just in case, I worked to make you believe something that was false.” I became a master manipulator, a puppeteer, and I don’t have an audience anymore. I’m not worthy of one.
“I don’t understand you.” Join the club. I don’t understand what I’m fighting for either, and it may be too late.
“Adriane grew up the way I did. I know it doesn’t seem so awful to you considering what you endured. But she chose a different path, and I didn’t have an ally. You know my dad said a total of fifteen words to me last year. I counted them. I wrote each one down. None of them was love. Or pride. Or happiness. I’m scared to break free, but it hurts to keep experiencing it. I figured if I could bring Adriane back and see she wasn’t happy I’d realize the grass wasn’t greener on the other side. I’d make her realize being with us, keeping us a unit and things the same it would make everything normal again. If she could love her daughter . . . maybe my dad could love me.” She keeps her gaze steadfast, concentrating on the road as my lies sink in. “But that wasn’t the case. She’s just fine without us. Without me. I don’t know how to process that. She’s the one who is supposed to understand me above all others.”
I don’t want her pity. I deserve her revulsion. I didn’t spill my guts so she would forgive me. I did it so she’d have the truth. Good or bad. She can do what she wants with it. Something I should have done a long time ago.
“Why? I don’t understand.” Her gasp at the end tells me she wasn’t going to ask me . . . she’s giving me the time to vent, let the frustration I’m carrying seep from me and trying to remain detached.
She pulls up in my driveway and turns the car off. I haven’t answered her question, and I don’t know how to give her the truth— but she warrants it.
“Come on.” She’s staring at me, forcing me out of the car.
“What are you doing, Saylor?” I need to set her free; she doesn’t need to deal with the mess that awaits on the other side of my front door.
“I’m being a friend. I’m going to go inside, fix coffee, and make sure you and your mom eat. I’m going to take care of you until your dad can come home and do it. Then I’m going to tell him what a gift he is missing. After that, I don’t know, Emberlee. I’m going to be hurt for a while. I’ll be angry. I don’t know that you’ll ever have my forgiveness, but today you have my comfort.” I’m a colossal fuck-up. Everything I just said to her, the months I’ve destroyed her, and she responds in kindness. I miss being that person.
“I know why that boy loves you.” I watch her pause as she turns back to me. “And to answer your question of why I destroyed everything— I found a letter. Adriane isn’t like a sister . . . she could be my sister.” I drop my head, not willing to look at her face. Shame creeps through my body, but I want to protect my dad’s secret. “Nobody knows.”
“And nobody will.” She sucks in a deep breath and gives me something vulnerable. Evening the playing field. “I have no clue how I’m going to prove to him I love him.”
“But it’s my fault,” I argue. I’ll tell him. I’ll tell all of them.
“Not all of it. I gave up. I didn’t fight for him, and if anyone deserves someone to battle for their love . . . it’s Deacon Douglas.”
“Emberlee,” my mom calls from the porch. Saylor grabs my hand and helps me up the driveway. She stays and does everything she promised. When this is over, I’ll fix it for her— for all of them. I’ll take responsibility for my actions and stop this fucking game. It’s not worth it; I’m questioning if it ever was.
Allowing myself to be encased in my mom’s arms, her tears soaking my neck, I cling to her trembling body as the sobs overtake me. She takes a minute to allow the severity to set in and pulls back and stands tall like our world isn’t careening a dangerous spiral. “He’ll be fine. I know it.” I understand where I get my perpetual state of denial.
“What happened?” I ask her.
Saylor steps past me and nods her head, letting me know she’s going in. I smile and mouth ‘thank you.’
“All I know is they were doing a test of some sort. Something detonated, and the aircraft went down.”
“Oh God.” I sway, and her grip tightens.
“Go inside and sit, baby. Your friends will be here in a bit.” I find myself being guided to an armchair, and I pull my legs up and hold them against my chest, trying to ease the ache. Rocking, tuning the room out, I close my eyes and try to remember a time my dad loved me.
I get up and head to the photo albums. Sitting down, I get lost in the stroll down memory lane. My first birthday, his smile was so broad, boastful-like as he held me. Adriane adorned his other hip.
My second Christmas, he still had the same smile, and Adriane was still there.
My third birthday— smile gone and so is Adriane. This reiterates my thought process; him hating me or disconnecting from me is in conjunction with her, but I was so wrong in the way I handled things. I can’t force someone to love me, so I shouldn’t have tried to force Saylor and Deacon not to love each other.
You can’t stop love just like you can’t start it. It’s an emotion that transforms into a verb. You feel it first, and it spurs you to act. You can’t force the actions without the feeling, and that’s what I’ve been trying to do. I’ve been trying to jumpstart so many things that aren’t present— Deacon and Adriane, me and my dad— while forcing others to halt when there is no expiration date. Deacon and Saylor, Brody and me.
I feel a heavy arm fall over my shoulders and look to see Caden. “We’re here.” Those words. Those feelings surround me. And though I don’t deserve their allegiance, their loyalty— they’re offering it.
“Thank you.” I hug him. His lips press against my temple, and his thumbs
wipe my tears. “I’m sorry.”
“I knew that. Was waiting for you to figure it out.” My silent scholar. “It’ll take time, but we’re a family.”
“Yes. We are.” I look up to see Avery holding Julie, Deacon with his dad, Mason disappearing into the kitchen. They’d rather be anywhere else, but they’re here.
“Deacon,” my cracked voice calls. He steps closer to me, and I feel Caden squeeze me in support. “Can we talk for a minute?” His eyes dart around the room, failing to focus on me. He wants to say no, he wants to tell me to fuck off. But he doesn’t. He stops his gaze from wandering and steps closer, pulling me in for a hug.
“Shhh . . .” He rocks me in his arms and lets me fall to pieces.
“I lied. I lied to everyone. I heard you in Colorado forbidding them to tell Saylor the truth.” My words come in a rush, confessing the horrible sins. “I’ve pretended to talk to Adriane while Saylor listened.” He tenses but doesn’t let go. “I made her believe y’all were back together. I let her hear all the lies. I told her Julie said Mama, and it was Adriane she said it to.” His hands grip my shirt as he pushes me back. I let him see the regret I feel, allow him to feel the shame, let the sorrow seep from me.
“Now isn’t the time. We’re here for you.” His voice is mechanical, barely hanging on. He turns and walks, escaping my nearness, and I give him the space. I’d give him the fucking moon if I could fix the mess I stirred.
I see a tense interaction with him and Saylor, and my stomach drops. I’m sinking further in despair, and I don’t know how to make amends. How to patch together what I unstitched.
The front door slams open, and my head whips, an eerie feeling coming over me. I hesitate to take a step, my limbs trembling and wondering if I’m hallucinating. His arms crush me, lifting me, holding me . . . giving me the security I’ve craved. How can you want something when you don’t know what it feels like? I’ve sought and prayed for this moment. My dad’s arms holding me, my tears soaking his shirt, his quiet murmurs— yet, it still feels empty. All my dreams coming true.
He’s alive.
He’s my dad.
He’s present.
He’s telling me he loves me.
But, I don’t have the overwhelming comfort I have when Brody holds me. Or Caden giving me a hug. Or Mason kissing my temple. Or Deacon’s strong words and unwavering support. I tossed all that aside, seeking this, and it leaves me feeling empty. Seems when you obtain something you think you need, something that hasn’t been healthy, it isn’t that sweet. It makes you realize everything you gave up for it. Reality is a bitch smacking me in the face with a two by four.
We try to get as much information from my dad as we can, but it’s still hush-hush. He debriefed at the base but still can’t share facts with us. In the end, he’s alive and that’s what matters. His eyes track me as I move from room to room, and it’s odd. The little girl in me wants to go to him, forgive him— the adult in me with the broken heart knows I didn’t deserve his treatment, so does he deserve forgiveness with no explanation?
I walk up to my crew— I hope they’re still my crew. Standing in the middle, slowly turning and meeting all their eyes, I murmur, “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t know if I’m ready to share everything and I know that isn’t fair but please leave here knowing I regret every word I spoke, every lie I told, every manipulation I planned.”
They all nod. “It’s gonna take a minute,” Deacon states.
“You were out of line,” Mason acknowledges.
“I didn’t know who you were. That girl isn’t my best friend. I miss you.” Avery cries.
“You’ve got a lot to prove, Emberlee,” Caden warns.
“I know. I’m up for the challenge.” My back straightens, and I know in my heart I’ll fix this. “I’m sorry.” I don’t know how many times I’ll have to apologize, but I know empty words won’t make up for the damage. A game plan got me in this mess, and I need a grand slam to bring us back. We’re a unit, dammit. A united front, a championship team.
“Uh, Emberlee, you’re sounding like Short Stop.” Mason chuckles. Great, I was throwing all my lines out to them, and I didn’t realize it. “We miss it.” His smile doesn’t meet his eyes, but I’ll make it. Without sex.
“I have the most to make up to her.” I look at Deacon. “And you.” He nods.
“We’re gonna take off. It’ll be tough, but we’ll try to be here for you.” Deacon hugs me.
“I know. I have to find some truths so I can set free some lies.”
“Want me to wait and drive you home?” Avery questions.
“Nah, I think I’ll stay here tonight.”
I watch them leave one by one. I don’t feel relieved or sad. I feel love— from them. No matter to whom you are born, all that matters is who is there through it all. That’s your family. Blood may run through your veins, but love and loyalty feeds your heart. And soul. That’s something I don’t want to lose again.
Hearing from my former airmen what happened to General Winchester has me reaching for my phone. I hover over the send button but don’t push it. She’s dealing with enough shit, so I’m hoping to handle this for her. The drive is short and doesn’t give me time to prepare. First lesson in training is have a plan— I have jack shit.
“Brody, good to see you, Son.” He looks fine, seems to be taking everything in stride.
“General.” I shake his hand.
“Gerald is fine. You’re a civilian now.” He claps my back. “How’s that working?”
“I’m a bit lost. School is keeping me busy, but I need to find something else.”
“Sports.”
“Sir, I’m a bit older than most college kids. I don’t know.”
“You can do anything you want, Son.”
“I came by to check how you were doing and maybe bend your ear for a few if you’re up to it.”
“I’m fine. Come into my office.” He directs me down the path I’ve taken many times. This time it feels a bit different. He isn’t my superior, I’m no longer enlisted, and I’m apt to piss him off with the topic of conversation.
I sit down in a chair and face him. My eyes are drawn to a framed photo of him and Emberlee— which is new. It’s a candid snapped in their backyard, but something is off. Her smile is similar to the one I saw the first night I met her— false and unsure. I hate it just as much today as I did that night. He follows my gaze and chuckles. “You here to ask me something regarding my daughter?”
“No. I’m not here to ask you anything.” I don’t know why I’m so pissed, it’s been this way with them for as long as I’ve been part of their lives, but I don’t think I noticed how much it damaged her until recently. “When was that taken?” I nod to the frame.
“Last week. After our first counseling session.” Fuck me. “Don’t look so surprised, Brody. I can admit my wrongs.”
“Is that what you’ve done? From the outside looking in, she isn’t as jubilant as she is trying to portray in that picture.” He picks it up, studying it.
“I don’t see that.” He studies it from every angle. “She’s beautiful, and that smile is breathtaking.”
“That smile is bullshit, Sir.” I clear my throat when his eyes snap to mine. Leaning forward, I point to what I’m explaining. “You don’t see her dimples. When she’s being genuine or the smile isn’t forced, she has dimples. If she’s feeling mischievous, only the left one will show. Her eyes, there isn’t a sparkle in them.” My finger is tracing the areas I’m showing him. “Her neck is stiff, so is her posture. When she’s comfortable and enjoying the moment, she’s relaxed, and her head tilts to the right.” I meet his gaze, and his jaw is slack.
“How do you know this?” He sits up straighter, placing the picture back in its rightful place.
“Years of studying her. Moments of being her happiness.” Let the chips fall where they may.
“Years?” His eyebrows rise.
“Yes. Over three.”
His face turns red, and he leans close. “You wanna change that time frame?”
“No, Sir. I’d like to change leaving her a little over three years ago. I was falling in love with her, but the age gap and my being in the Air Force freaked me. After the accident with my sister, I pulled back. Your daughter still hasn’t forgiven me.”
He stares in silence. “She was sixteen years old, Brody.” I nod. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No. I’m sorry if you’re upset, but I backed off wanting her to have a life. Live and experience things I would have kept her from. Until Thanksgiving, I hadn’t seen or talked to her.”
“So you’re telling me she’s faking being happy in this picture.”
“I’m telling you it’s been so long since she was at peace, truly happy, she doesn’t realize she’s faking. I’m telling you that you’ve done further damage than you understand. Did you know she lost all her friends?”
“You’re wrong. They were all here the day of the accident. She’s mentioned them since.”
“Maybe they’re handling their issues. They were a tight group. But I’m telling you, she set out to blow up her world and was pretty successful.” I let my words sink in. “Have you apologized? Are you earning her trust?”
“The fuck?” He explodes. “I didn’t break her trust.”
“You did. She doesn’t trust her own judgment because she can’t get your acceptance.” I stand. “Don’t half-ass this, General. If you want a relationship with her and want it to be genuine, you need to man up and admit your wrongdoings.”
“Is that what you’re doing with her?”
“I was. Now my hand’s forced to let her decide where we go, but she can’t do that until she lets go of the past.”
“Me?” His face has paled, and I see fear in his eyes. This fearless man dreads he’ll lose his daughter’s love.
“I don’t want her to let go of you, I want her to find what makes her happy, and I want you to see what you have. I need her to let go of the resentment of you, the insecurity you’ve festered inside of her. I need her to trust herself, so in turn she can trust others.”
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