Ignoring her silent question, I asked Kellan, “What is it?”
His smile still huge, Kellan tucked his phone in his pocket. “That was Gavin. His plane is just about ready to take off. He wanted to thank me for meeting with him . . . finally, and let me know that I could visit him anytime I wanted.” He let out a small laugh and looked at the floor. “He said he . . . he loves me.”
Kellan peeked up at me and his brows were furrowed, like he couldn’t comprehend why anyone on this earth would love him, especially a parent. Being loved was still a new experience for him. Or at least, accepting the fact that he was loved was new. Kellan had known love—his band certainly loved him, Denny loved him—but Kellan’s view of himself was so skewed for so long, he hadn’t recognized the love right in front of him. It took me entering his life and turning it upside down for him to see it, for him to really feel it. But a lifetime of feeling unwanted was hard to shake, and he still struggled with it on occasion.
Standing, I wrapped my arms around his waist. “Of course he loves you. You’re his son.”
The small smile slipping off of his face, he whispered, “That doesn’t mean anything.”
My heart breaking, I brushed a damp strand of hair off of his forehead. Leaning up, I murmured into his ear, “I will always love you, Kellan. Your heart is safe with me.”
Kellan pulled me into a hug and let out a long, shaky breath as he held me. “Promise?” he whispered.
I squeezed him just a little bit tighter. “I promise.” Pulling back, I rested my forehead against his. “Not loving you isn’t possible. Trust me, I tried.” Kellan smirked, then gave me a soft kiss. Our tender moment was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Kellan and I both glanced over at my dad standing in the doorway, watching us.
“Something going on?” he asked, trying to keep his voice casual. But I could hear an undertone of disgruntlement.
Kellan let go of me and shook his head. Answering Dad, he locked gazes with me; the midnight blue depths were warm and untroubled. “Everything’s fine . . . just getting ready to leave.”
Dad brightened and clapped him on the back. “Well then, anything I can help you with?”
Kellan chuckled at his answer as he kissed my head. “No, I’m good, thank you.”
He clapped Dad’s shoulder as he walked around him and back into our room. I raised my hands at my father in disbelief. Seemingly perplexed, Dad glanced back at Mom. “What? I can’t offer to help my future son-in-law?”
Sooner than I would have liked, the four of us were driving to Pete’s bar. The band was meeting there for their send-off. Kellan refused to let me see him off at the airport anymore. He said watching the plane pull away with him inside was too dramatic.
Kellan sighed as he shut off the engine to his beloved Chevelle. He even gave the steering wheel a loving caress before glancing up at me. Eyes narrowing, he handed me the keys with clear reluctance on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. “I know. Be good to her, use the best gas, go slow. I got it.” I snatched the keys out of his fingers, and Kellan frowned.
He cracked open his door. “We’ll have to see about garaging her when you come join me. I don’t want to leave her alone in the driveway for that long.”
I cringed at his comment and looked back at my dad. I hadn’t told him I was leaving Seattle. Dad’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “Join him? Join him where?” he asked me.
I quickly opened my door. “I’ll fill you in later, Dad.”
“Wait, Kiera . . .”
I shut the door on Dad’s argument. Kellan gave me an apologetic shrug over the top of the car as Dad popped out of the back. “For how long, Kiera?”
I sighed, really not wanting to discuss it with my parents right at that very moment. Luckily, an excellent distraction pulled up. Griffin’s Vanagon parked in the spot right next to the Chevelle. Anna climbed out of the passenger’s side. She held on to the doorframe like she was going to explode if she moved too fast. The rear door slid open, and Matt hopped out. He waved at us, then extended his hand back into the vehicle and helped his girlfriend, Rachel, out of the van.
I still found it hard to believe that Matt and Griffin were related. Matt was more like me: quiet, reserved. Griffin was more like . . . a genuine d-bag. I sometimes wished my sister had hooked up with Matt instead of Griffin. Okay, I often wished that. But Matt was happy with Rachel.