Ones that may never heal.
In the morning, not long after the sun peeks through my curtains, there’s a knock on my door. I push myself up and Dad comes in, pausing before sitting down on the bed.
“Do you always wear your jeans to bed?” he asks, eyeing me like maybe I’m not feeling well or something.
I shrug. “Sometimes.”
It’s not like I can sleep anyway.
He keeps glancing at the single dog tag around my neck, his mind elsewhere. Talking with Dad can still be an awkward occurrence, something I’m sure will become easier with time.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
He comes back to the present, giving me an unexpected smile. “I have something for you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while now, but I needed to make sure I could get it first.”
“You got me something?”
His smile falters a fraction. “I needed to do something, and this is the only way I know how.”
“Dad, you didn’t need to do anything,” I say, really meaning it. “You being here and believing me is more than enough.”
“I know,” he says. “But this is something I needed to do, and I don’t want to hear you complaining or telling me I didn’t have to. I did it because I’m your dad. Doesn’t that give me the right to give you things?”
I finally return his smile. “What is it?”
“It’s downstairs.” He stands up and tosses me a shirt off the floor. “Come on.”
I pull my shirt quick and follow him down. I’m a little caught off guard when he leads me outside. I squint against the morning sun and glance around.
Then I can do nothing but stare.
“Dad …”
I hear him pull keys from his pocket, and he presses them into my hand. I look down and see that they’re my keys. Mine.
“I told you I would try fixing things, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but—” I don’t know what else to say. My car is parked in my spot like it never left. Except it’s not the same. It’s so much better than I could have done myself. I could never afford to do any body work, and now my car has suddenly transformed into what I’ve always dreamed it could be. “This is …”
My words become forgotten.
I have my car back.
Dad puts his arm around my shoulders. “You don’t deserve any less,” he says. “Uncle Jasper was kind enough to help me with it, and I don’t want my son driving in a car that looks like a piece of shit.”
I laugh because that’s the same thing the guy said when he took it from me.
“But how did you pay for it?”
“I’ve had things laying around I didn’t need anymore.”
It doesn’t take me long to think of it. And when I do, I suddenly don’t want this anymore. It’s too much. For what I put him through, he shouldn’t have done it.
“Your baseball cards,” I say. “Dad you shouldn’t have—”
“They were collecting dust in my closet.” He flies his hand aside like it doesn’t matter. “I knew I would need money one day, and that day just came a little sooner than expected.”
I look down, where my keys lay so familiar in my hands.
I can only say, “Thanks, Dad.”
He pulls me in tighter, and we stand there together and look at the day like it’s something brand new.
I’m glad I made that promise to Harper all those years ago.
And it’s one I intend to keep, even if I have to prove history wrong all over again.
46.
Harper
I stand in front of the mirror, trying to convince myself the dress fits right and my hair isn’t too boring. I haven’t worn a dress in months, and I kinda missed it. That’s really weird for me to admit, but sometimes dressing up is fun.
Grace drove me to the mall and showed me the only stores worth going into, and she helped me pick out something that worked. The whole time I wished Mom could’ve been there, too.
In the end, though, I’m glad the way things worked out, even when my thoughts betray me. If I went to live with Mom, I wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t be going to school in the fall with Libby—who finally convinced her Mom to let her come back after agreeing she’d go to college somewhere near her.
And I wouldn’t be with Kale.
I’ve known him for a long time, and yet I’ve never been so nervous about seeing him before. It’s like something old and new, all at once.
“Harper, he’s here!” Uncle Jasper yells upstairs.
I take one more look at the white and blue summer dress, thinking maybe I should have picked something different. It’s too late now. I grab my purse off the bed and go downstairs. Uncle Jasper waits by the door, smiling when he sees me.
“Nice choice of shoes,” he says, meeting me at the bottom step.
“That’s all you have to say?” I ask, glancing down at my Chucks.
“Be home before midnight?” Before I can slap him in the chest, he says, “You look beautiful. I wish Holly was here to see you.”
I glance over his shoulder where her chair still sits by the window. “Me, too.”
Uncle Jasper kisses me on the forehead, the same way Dad used to when I was little. “I know she would be proud of you, just as I am.” Then he nods toward the door. “He’s waiting outside.”
I stand on my tiptoes and hug him. “Thank you,” I whisper into his ear.
After a moment, Uncle Jasper clears his throat and pulls away. “You should go,” he says.
I plant a kiss on his cheek, smiling because he’s trying not to cry. I leave, not wanting to torture him any longer. Kale is waiting for me in the driveway and succeeds in making my heart skip a beat and start over too fast.
Never in my life have I seen Kale wear anything except jeans and some sort of casual shirt, something I’ll surely never complain about because he looks good in anything. And when he asked me out on our long-belated first date, I knew somewhere in the back of my mind he would dress a little better than normal.
But I didn’t except him to look so good.
His black slacks look new and fitted, and he’s wearing a white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And to pull everything together, a black tie hangs slightly loose at the neck.
And what surprises me most of all—his hair is styled. Not messy or in his face, but arranged in a way I never imagined he could pull off.
I have to remember how to walk. Kale watches me the whole time—his hands in his pockets. When I’m close enough to see the specks of blue in his eyes, I say, “You look … amazing.”
He smiles and glances down at himself. “I’ve been known how to dress well, if need be.”
“Known by who?” I ask. I catch sight of the car behind him, not at all sure about what I’m seeing. “Is this your car?”
His eyes never leave me. “It is.” The old Mustang looks brand new, its black paint shining and without a scratch. “I needed something decent to pick up the girl I love.”